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 surveyed her work as she rose to her feet, noting that the vampire was beginning to look more like a mummy, nearly his entire body covered in white bandages. She had carefully wrapped his head so that all the tender, raw places were protected, while leaving his nose, mouth, and one barely functioning eye exposed, so as not to restrict his senses in any way.

He had so few of them left at his disposal.

“I’m going to go g-get you…s-something to put on,” she explained softly as she took a step backward toward the stairs. “I’ll just be a minute. I’ll be right back.”

She took her time climbing the stairs, wanting to give her patient a bit of space to wake up and process what he could of his surroundings, and made her way into her bedroom. She frowned as she went through her rather limited wardrobe, searching for something appropriate to loan the damaged vampire.

Size wasn’t exactly an issue.

The vampire was so terribly small and thin, she knew that her shirts would easily fit him; it was just a matter of finding something soft enough so as not to irritate his injuries, and with a wide enough neck to fit over his very sensitive face and throat without touching them. Pants were more difficult, as Tara was built quite a bit larger than the emaciated vampire. It took her a few minutes to find a pair of comfortable, soft grey pajama pants with a drawstring waist that could be adjusted to fit a smaller frame.

When she returned to the living room, Spike was waiting just where she had left him, leaning back against the sofa, though his head was raised, alerting her to the fact that he was by this point fully awake. He visibly tensed when he heard her entrance, and Tara deliberately slowed her pace, approaching him cautiously as she spoke to reassure him.

“Hey. It’s just me. I’m back…and I b-brought you some clothes.”

The vampire’s brow crinkled with confusion, and his head tilted just slightly to the side, as if he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“I-it’s not much,” Tara apologetically informed him. “J-just an old sweater and pajama pants. But…but it’s something. A-and once you’re feeling a little better…once you’re okay by yourself for a little while…I’ll go g-get you something of your own.”

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently as he started under the touch, then relaxed a little when he realized it was just her.

“I’m going to p-put this over your head, okay? It’s just a sweater. It won’t hurt…won’t touch your neck, or your face…okay? I’ll b-be very careful.”

The vampire hesitated, but then nodded slowly, uncertainly.

Gently, taking extreme care not to hurt him, Tara worked the soft fabric over his head, carefully maneuvering his arms into the sleeves and pulling it down to cover his well-bandaged torso. The pants were a bit more difficult, but as light as he was, she was able to lift his hips off the sofa with one hand and pull the garment up over his abdomen and legs.

“There,” she murmured, sitting back on her knees to survey her work. “Isn’t that better?”

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

Clothes.

She had given him clothes.

It did not matter that they were old and unattractive…not that he could have seen them to know this for sure. It was simply a guess based on Tara’s demeanor of embarrassment and apology. He didn’t care if he was wearing the most hideous garments on the face of the planet.

He was clothed…no longer naked and exposed to the every sadistic whim of those around him.

He cautiously smoothed a trembling hand down the soft front of the well-worn sweater, swallowing hard as he felt the beginnings of tears prickling in the back of his one intact eye, and stinging the raw flesh of the socket where his other eye should have been. Suddenly feeling utterly overwhelmed and exhausted, he leaned back against the sofa, instinctively turning his head away from Tara in an attempt to hide his emotional reaction to her simple gift.

Tara rose to her feet and began moving about the room, picking up bandages and medications and putting them back into her first aid kit, straightening the living room – and all the while announcing her every move to him, so as to reassure him of her location at all times.

Why is she doing all this? he wondered again. Why should she care?

It didn’t matter, he finally decided. She did care, that much was obvious. She had given him more precious privileges in the past few hours than he had ever thought would be his again. She had freed him from the hated bondage of the collar, had restored to him the first glimmer of sight again…and regardless of what she chose to do with him now, he would be ever grateful to her for her kindness and generosity.

“…so I’m just gonna go in the kitchen for a little while…”

His ears were drawn to Tara’s words, and his heart lurched with a sudden fear as he realized what she was saying.

She meant to leave him.

Perhaps not far, or not for long…but she was talking about going away.

No, no, please don’t go away! Don’t leave me here alone, in the dark! Please…please… 

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

Tara stopped in front of the sofa on her way toward the kitchen, making her intentions clear to the still, quiet vampire, who seemed so much more at peace now that he was clean, and dry, and clothed. She knew she needed to get something to eat, as well as to check on Macrea, who had been sorely neglected since the vampire’s arrival in her home. Besides, she was fairly certain it would be the best thing for the weary creature to have a bit of space and time to himself, if only for a little while.

He needs to rest…and every time I move…every time I touch him…he’s terrified all over again…

Still, she did not want to frighten him with her sudden absence, any more than with her sudden presence before.

“I’ll be back in just a few hours,” she assured him gently as she took his shoulders, and cautiously helped him to lie down on the sofa. “You just rest here for a little bit, okay? Try to get some sleep. There’s a few things I need to do…but I’ll be back later.”

The vampire submitted to her gently pushing hands, lying down on the sofa, though she noticed with some dismay that the tension seemed to have returned to his shoulders, and the ever-present tremor in them had intensified. Silently, she ran a gentle, soothing hand down his arm in an effort to calm him, aware that he was probably terribly confused right now, and wanting to reassure him of her kind intentions.

The vampire gradually grew still, and Tara wondered if he was still awake. His one healing eye was closed, and she had no way of knowing for sure. Finally, not wanting to disturb him if he was indeed asleep, she slowly removed her hand from his arm and stood up straight again, turning cautiously toward the kitchen with soft, quiet steps.

She had only gained a single step when she felt a cold, shaky hand reach out and grasp her arm…weakly, without a fraction of the strength it might have taken to hold her, but desperate all the same. Stunned by the unexpectedly bold gesture, Tara half-turned to face the trembling vampire, whose face was lowered almost to the cushion of the couch in apprehension and shame. Still, he held onto her arm with all his slight strength, and in the tense silence, Tara thought she heard his voice, though it was barely more than a breath.

“Please…”

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

The moment the vampire realized that he had actually gone so far as to grasp Tara’s wrist, he immediately let go, horrified by what he had just done. He gasped and drew back, his head bowed as he froze and waited for the inevitable punishment that followed the act of daring to touch one of his human captors without permission.

How could you be so *stupid*? You know you’re not allowed…she was being nice to you…wasn’t hurting you…and you had to go and ruin it! Stupid, stupid…she’s going to punish you now…Why do you always have to bollocks up any shred of hope you find?

Tara just stood there, cautious, not willing to move and further terrify the frightened creature.

Okay…gotta be so careful here…if I push him too hard…if I scare him now…he might never recover…might never have the courage to talk to me again…

She was stunned and elated that he had ventured to reach out to her, to speak to her – after all, he had only dared to utter two words in the entire time she had known him – but she was troubled by his immediate reaction of fear. Her heart pounded with anxious anticipation, her mind racing. She knew that she had to be extremely cautious in handling this situation, or risk driving the traumatized vampire further into his silent shell.

Slowly, carefully, she turned around to face him, crouching low in front of the sofa so that she was at eye level with him, though she was sure he could not see her yet…at least, not very well. She did not touch him, and kept her voice low and calm as she spoke to him.

“It’s all right. D-don’t be afraid. It’s okay. D-did you…say something?”

The vampire cringed low against the sofa, shaking his head pleadingly but emphatically, his weak, trembling hands pulling at the sofa as if to pull himself off onto the floor. Tara’s heart ached for him as she realized that he was trying to lower himself as much as possible, in a gesture of submission and supplication. The thought of his attempting to bow himself down before her was unbearable to her, and Tara reached out to catch him before he could manage it.

He froze under the soft touch of her hands on his arms, going perfectly still, desperate to make it known that he was obedient, submissive, not trying to fight or resist her in any way.

Please…please…no…I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything, just please…don’t…

Tara was certain that he had spoken – she had heard him, though so softly that she could barely make out the word he had said – but was simply too terrified to admit it. And he had touched her! He had reached out and grabbed her hand; he must want something, or he wouldn’t have risked it. She was torn between the desire to cling to the slight step forward that the single whispered word had been, and the fear of pressing him too hard, and losing what little progress they had gained.

“It’s all right. I promise, Sweetie. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you…I’m not mad at you…I want you to talk to me…okay? If you want something…if you have something to say…I want you to tell me…”

He could scarcely begin to make sense of what she was saying. His mind could not process the idea that she might actually care what he had to say, might even desire to hear it. For months he had been in a state of enforced silence, reduced to the place of an object to be used and tortured, with no thought for what he might feel. His attempts at resistance were meaningless…his words, no more than an annoyance to be driven away with harsh blows, or worse.

And yet…Tara was still speaking gently to him. She did not seem angry, and she was urging him to repeat what he had said.

No, no, not allowed! Not supposed to talk…it’s a trick…please, don’t make me…don’t make me do this…

What if he was still in that place? What if they were watching…listening…waiting for him to slip up and break the rules, so that they would have an excuse to hurt him again…not that they really needed one.

“Please,” Tara murmured, her hand leaving his arm and slipping down to rest on the back of his trembling hand. “Please, Sweetheart…I’m not going to hurt you. Please…just tell me what you said? What you want? I want to help you. Please…please let me.”

The price for speaking was great, he knew…but the price of disobedience was far worse.

His shoulders shook with fear, and he swallowed hard, the convulsive action sending a jolt of tearing pain through his dry, sore throat. He wasn’t sure which thought scared him more – the idea of the suffering he would no doubt receive for daring to be so bold, or the thought of her leaving him here, alone, with only the darkness of his fears and memories for company.

His head bowed submissively, he ventured a response in a hoarse, hesitant whisper. “I…I…please…please d-don’t…don’t go.” He paused, lowering his head further, his voice barely audible as he added, “Don’t leave me…a-alone. Please…”

Tara was silent for a long moment, and the vampire had no idea what to expect from her, though the greater part of him expected punishment for his demands. He had no right to make them, after all – no right to expect any such privilege from her, not after all she had already done for him. She had been so overwhelmingly kind to him, so gentle and compassionate…

And now, he had ruined it all with a single careless word.

When he heard rather than saw Tara move forward slightly, he flinched, preparing himself for the blow that was sure to come – a slap in the face to remind him of the place he had forgotten.

“’m sorry,” he whispered. “S-sorry…please…”

Instead of a blow, however, he felt a gentle, reassuring squeeze of her hand on his arm, and heard her soft voice, speaking a quiet, simple answer to his desperate plea.

“Okay.”


~ TBC