Summary: AU beginning during the months between Seasons 5 and 6. Tara is just your typical college student at UC Sunnydale. Or at least, she’s trying hard to be…until a series of strange dreams of a mysterious, suffering stranger begin to haunt her nights. When this stranger unexpectedly crosses her path, he will draw her down a road she never expected, toward a love and a future she never thought she’d find.

 

Notes: This story will span the course of a very AU Season 6, as Tara gradually uncovers the secrets of Spike’s tormented past amidst events very different from canon Season 6. At the beginning of this story, Tara has not met Willow or the rest of the Scoobies, and though it has been several months since Buffy’s death, the Scoobies have not yet planned to raise the Slayer from the dead. Also, for the purposes of this story and the ‘ship it involves, Tara is heterosexual. J




Akathisia: Son of Grace

by DreamsofSpike

Tara stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door, picking up the telephone with a sense of guilty regret as she remembered the plans she had made with Dawn the previous afternoon - before her life had entered its sudden and stunningly swift descent into insanity. The girl didn't have a lot of people she could turn to at the moment, and was terribly lonely; Tara liked to spend as much time with her as possible.

But today, Dawn was going to have to wait.

She waited while the phone rang, wincing inwardly when Dawn's unusually cheerful voice finally answered, sounding slightly breathless. Tara fought back a fresh wave of guilt at the mental image of the teenager rushing around getting ready for the shopping date they were supposed to have had an hour from then.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dawnie."

The momentary silence following her greeting told Tara that her very tone had given her away, even before Dawn spoke in an accusing tone of voice.

"You're calling to cancel, aren't you?"

"I'm really sorry, Dawnie. There's kind of an... an emergency. We can go next Saturday instead...but...but I really can't today..."

Dawn's voice lost its accusing tone, and took on a small, almost fearful note as she asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing...nothing bad, Honey," Tara assured her, aware even as she spoke that her words were not entirely true. "Nothing...nothing you need to worry about. I'll...I'll tell you all about it later, okay? But right now, there's something I r-really...need to take care of. All right?"

Dawn's sigh was clearly audible, but she followed it with a pained, "Fine. Okay. Guess I'll just spend this lovely afternoon at home. In front of the television. Alone." She paused before adding pointedly, "Again."

"I'm sorry, Sweetie..." Tara's heart went out to the lonely teenager, though she knew she really had no other option at the moment. "I promise I'll make it up to you. We'll do something special next weekend."

She tried to put out of her mind the disconcerting questions as to whether or not her situation would be any different by the following weekend. She had no idea how long it was going to take to bring the vampire to full recovery...whether or not that was even possible. She didn't know how she was going to manage her classes after the weekend, or what she would do with her unexpected guest should Dawn want to come over the following week.

And those questions were just too much for her to even consider at the moment. For now, she was doing well just to make it through each hour, one at a time.

"It's okay, Tara. I understand." Dawn's voice held a false cheer that made Tara cringe to hear it. "I'm getting pretty good at understanding."

"Dawnie..."

"Talk to you later, bye!"

**********************************

Dawn slammed the phone down a bit harder than she meant to, fuming quietly as she stormed out of the kitchen and back to the living room. She flopped down on the sofa again in front of her abandoned, half-eaten bowl of cereal and the Saturday morning cartoons that were still playing.

She had been hurrying to get ready by the time Tara arrived at the house to pick her up, when the telephone rang. She was half-dressed, wearing her favorite pair of jeans and cute, strappy sandals on the bottom, but still in her pajama shirt on top.

Now, there didn't seem to be any reason to complete the process.

Dawn stared at the television, but was not really taking in the show. She had been looking forward to getting out, doing some shopping, spending time with the only person she knew who seemed to really listen to her anymore...and now that was out. She was surprised, and disappointed, and just a little bit hurt - because Tara always seemed to be there for her these days.

Except today, apparently.

She had resigned herself to another day spent alone, feeling sorry for herself, when she heard the unexpected sound of footsteps on the stairs. She glanced up with interest, irritated with her own pathetic eagerness, as Willow came into sight at the bottom of the stairs, lugging a stack of four or five thick, ancient-looking books in her arms.

It was rare to see Willow alone these days, Dawn thought with a sense of resentment she couldn't quite suppress. Unlike Dawn, Willow seemed to constantly be in the company of her closest friends, who formed a faithful support network that seemed to be helping her to cope with the loss of Buffy. Xander and Anya were over at the house all the time, and Willow's boyfriend Oz was over even more.

Besides Tara, Oz was the only other person who seemed to notice the way Dawn was dealing - or rather not dealing - with her sister's death. He was quiet, and rarely said more than a couple of words at any given time, but Dawn noticed the occasional glances of concern he sent her way.

It made her feel awkward and a bit self-conscious, but in a way...comforted.

It was good to know that someone noticed...even if she couldn't quite bring herself to talk to Oz about the way she felt.

She had Tara for that.

Tara did not know the others, was not a part of her regular everyday life, and therefore Tara was the one person with whom Dawn did not have to keep up the act she performed every single day - going to school, seeing her friends, and trying to interact with the rest of the world as if she hadn't just lost her mother and her sister in the space of less than six months.

Of course, that part was getting easier - considering the fact that she was doing less and less actual interaction with other people.

The girls she used to hang out with didn't seem to know how to talk to her anymore. Even her best friend, Janice, acted awkward and uncomfortable around her, although she at least made some attempt to maintain their friendship. Of course, that might have been easier had Dawn returned her efforts. Buffy had never liked Janice much, had often said she thought she was a bad influence on her little sister.

Somehow, after all that had happened, for Dawn, sharing the laughter and secrets she used to share with Janice felt like...a betrayal.

The redhead spared Dawn a brief, distracted glance before turning the corner toward the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Dawnie," she mumbled, her voice still a bit hoarse with sleep.

"Hey," Dawn replied brightly, hoping to perhaps engage the older girl in conversation...anything to interrupt the regularly scheduled boredom that was her every day life. "What are you...?"

But Willow was not waiting around for a response.

Ignoring the sinking feeling of disappointment in her chest, Dawn got up and followed her into the kitchen, once again irritated with herself for the sheer pathetic-ness of her actions, but too bored and tired of being alone to really care.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she sat down on the stool next to Willow's at the kitchen counter, glancing with feigned interest at the dusty books laid out in front of her caretaker. After a moment or two, the mysterious titles of some of them caught her attention in spite of her boredom.

Where Few Dare to Tread: Spells and Rituals of the Dead...

Osiris: Rites of Obeisance

A Scandal Explored: Resur-

Abruptly Willow snatched the last title out of Dawn's hands, putting it on the stool on her other side, well out of the younger girl's line of vision.

"Don't...touch that," she warned, and Dawn frowned, puzzled by the slight nervous tremor in her voice. "These books are...some serious stuff, Dawnie. You shouldn't be reading them."

Dawn quirked a single dubious eyebrow in Willow's direction. "Then I guess it's a good thing I wasn't."

Willow gave her an apologetic little half-smile. "I know, Dawnie. I just wanna be sure you're...safe."

Dawn's expression did not change as she took in those vaguely unsettling words. "But, you, on the other hand...you shouldn't be safe? Are these books really that dangerous? What are you studying, anyway? Are you preparing a spell?"

She could not keep the eager note out of her voice on the last question, despite her misgivings. She wished that Willow would show her some of the magic she knew, teach her to do some cool things - but Willow usually just brushed her aside, insisting that she was too young to handle the sort of power that Willow was learning to wield. When Dawn persisted - which was most of the time - Willow laid down her argument to trump all arguments.

"Buffy wouldn't like it."

And of course...there was no arguing with that.

Dawn missed her sister terribly.

When Buffy was alive, they had fought almost constantly it seemed, until those last terrifying weeks when it had been uncertain whether any of them were going to survive to see the next day. Then, the girls had grown closer than they'd ever been before, some deep-rooted instinct driving them to seek strength in each other they had never known they could find.

And in one fateful moment...it had all vanished, like the warm, building glow of a candle suddenly snuffed out.

Buffy had taken her place.

None of them had ever said it - not Willow with her brave resolve face, determined to keep the group together in spite of the tremendous loss they had faced; not Xander with his unflappable sense of cheer, as he tried his best to make sure they didn't stop laughing altogether in the face of their grief; not even Anya, with her annoying tendency toward extreme honesty.

But Dawn knew they thought it - knew that they knew it was the truth.

She was pretty sure that Giles knew it, too, though he didn't seem as much a part of the group these days. She had come to the conclusion that it was the reason he kept to himself so much, locked away in his apartment across town and only joining the others for the occasional patrol, or when absolutely necessary. She had a feeling that he would have left altogether a long time ago, had it not been for Spike's disappearance.

Spike had helped a lot following Buffy's death, with patrolling, and helping to protect them all from the constant dangers that surrounded them - but to Dawn, he had meant so much more. He was her very best friend, the only one she knew beyond all doubt understood what she was going through. He had loved Buffy every bit as deeply as she did, she knew...and he was the only one she could talk to about all that she had lost.

Now...he was gone.

He had vanished into thin air several months ago. His crypt was the same as it had been, his possessions untouched...but Spike himself was gone. The Scoobies had been alarmed at first, but only because they had no idea how they were going to deal with Sunnydale's excessive monster population without the help of their very own guard vamp.

To Dawn, his disappearance had meant so much more.

It was just another person close to her, another person she loved, that she had lost.

At any rate, Giles seemed to feel that the "children" needed him more than ever once Spike was gone. For a brief time, he had seemed a bit more animated, as he had doubled his efforts to assist with patrols, breaking out books that had lain abandoned on his shelves since Buffy's death to do research and help in the good fight, even coming by the house every now and then to check on Dawn and be sure she was all right. But gradually, the brief spark of determination to pick up the slack Spike had left behind seemed to have faded, until now, he only came around every once in a while.

Dawn knew that he was avoiding her...because he knew. Because looking at her was a constant reminder of her failure, and all it had cost them.

She should have been the one to fall from that tower.

Her life's blood should have closed Glory's portal, and left her sister alive. That was the reason none of them could look at her anymore without that strange, guarded awkwardness in their eyes - the reason none of them really wanted to spend any time with her anymore. It was because they looked at her, and they saw nothing more than the one who had caused Buffy's death - and a pitiful substitute for their lost friend.

Dawn found herself wishing once more that Tara had been able to go shopping that day, as she began to feel uncomfortable in Willow's presence once more...a feeling that seemed to be becoming more and more common these days. Tara never looked at her the way Willow and the others looked at her; Tara had never known Buffy, and therefore had nothing for which to blame her, no reason to hate her.

Tara looked at her - and all she saw was her friend.

That's just because she doesn't know... The familiar haunting words whispered in her mind again, and Dawn's throat went dry as a hot feeling of guilt came over her, and she slid off the stool without another word and made her way back toward the living room. She doesn't know what you are...what you've done...if she knew, she'd look at you just like they do...because no normal person...no one who's *good*...could have done the terrible thing you've done.

As Dawn settled back on the sofa again, pulling the throw blanket up around her shoulders in an attempt to find a sense of comfort that would not come, she found that she was not really seeing the cartoons on the television, as before - but this time, it was because her vision was blurred with tears.

"I did it," she whispered under her breath, closing her eyes against the salty burning, desperately trying to hide from the painful truth, even as her need for penance forced her to speak her guilt aloud in a hushed, hoarse voice inaudible to anyone but herself. "I killed her...I killed my sister."

***********************************

*I killed her...it's my fault she's dead...I killed Buffy...*

"You know you deserve this, right, vampire?" the harsh male voice jeered at him as a heavy boot found his already shattered ribcage once again. "A couple hundred years...a couple hundred thousand victims...you've been around enough to more than earn this, haven't you, Seventeen?"

He knew that it was true, knew that the blood of thousands was on his hands; hadn't she reminded him, every chance she got? Hadn't she constantly drilled it into his mind with her words and her fists - the knowledge that he could never make up for the evil he had done? No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to atone for the lives he had taken, the blood he had shed.

But it was *her* blood that cried out to him, even now - her death that weighed heaviest on his unbeating heart.

*You let her die...you failed her, and you let her die...and this is your penance...*

As the brutality continued, the mockery and accusations accompanied by blows, his weak and devastated body was dragged across the floor and he was forced down onto his face to accept their savage invasion. The vampire submitted to it, harsh sobs rising up in his throat, though they could not escape his silent lips, as his own thoughts condemned him.

*You deserve it...you deserve to be punished. She asked one thing of you...one thing...and you failed her. You let her down...and she had to jump to save her. In several lifetimes, an existence of sins, your worst was in failing her - and this...this is your hell.*