The answer was so simple, in fact, that it took him a moment to process what she had just said. When his mind caught up with the fact that she had actually agreed to his request...was in fact sitting down on the sofa beside him, gently maneuvering him back into a comfortable sitting position...he found himself stunned, barely daring to believe it.

She's going to stay? Not going to leave me...or...or punish me? But...but why would she...?

"If you want me to be here with you, I'm here. Whatever you need."

Tara explained her actions quietly, settling into the sofa beside him, careful to leave a bit of distance between them. She was not sure how much contact he would be comfortable with, and did not want to further confuse or traumatize him with her careless actions...but he seemed to desire the comfort of company, at any rate. He seemed so small and frail, the borrowed sweater loose on his emaciated form, nearly every visible part of his body covered in bandages.

"If you need something," she informed him, keeping her voice calm and quiet, speaking slowly to be certain that he grasped what she was telling him, "I want you to tell me. I won't hurt you. It's okay for you to say whatever you want. I just...w-want to know. So I can help you. Okay?"

He was still a bit doubtful, in spite of all. It seemed like too much to hope for, to be allowed to speak his mind, his desires, without fear of repercussions. Still, he nodded silently, accepting her words at least on a surface level as Tara settled in beside him, her warm hand gently clasping his, her thumb stroking a soothing pattern along the back of his hand.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, and Tara began to feel a bit better as the vampire's hoarse, shallow breaths began to gradually even out, and she knew that he was beginning to calm down.

"See?" she said softly, an encouraging smile that was lost on him playing about the edges of her mouth. "It's all right. Nothing bad happened because you talked to me. In fact, I'm happy that you did. I'm really glad you told me what you needed me to do...b-because I really want to help you get b-better...and I'm not sure I can if you...if you won't talk to me. D-do you understand?"

The vampire's slow nod seemed a bit more certain, less fearful, as he responded. And then, so soft that Tara almost missed it, he added a whispered verbal answer, "Y-yes..."

Tara's heart leapt with joy at the undeniable progress, however, slight, and she had to resist the impulse to hug him, reminding herself that although he was improving, he was far from ready for that much physical contact. Considering all he had been through, he was quite likely to misinterpret her intentions.

"Can I...can I ask you something?" she ventured cautiously. He said nothing, just sat there listening attentively, and Tara continued in a soft, gentle voice. "I...I'm Tara...you know that...but...but I don't know what to...c-call you. What...what's your name?"

The vampire visibly tensed beside her, a convulsive swallow visible in his throat. He hesitated a moment, before whispering a hoarse, shameful response, his head bowed low.

"S-seventeen."

Tara frowned, confused by the strange answer to her question, wondering momentarily if he had possibly misunderstood what she was asking him. "Y-your name...is..." Her words trailed off, and her eyes widened in horror as a vivid image filled her mind of the collar she had removed from his throat, and the number engraved on the metal plate at its front.

Seventeen.

She felt sick, a sense of helpless anger and outrage filling her as the pieces began to fall into place in her mind. They had called him by a number, not his name, had so thoroughly dehumanized him as to take even that semblance of human identity from him. And the collar...the vicious, deliberate device of torture they had forced upon him...had been specifically his, engraved with the number they had given him.

The vampire's head remained bowed, and Tara noticed that he had completely frozen in place as she pressed him gently for an explanation. His lips parted slightly as if in preparation to answer, but then he closed them again, his shoulders trembling slightly with tension and uncertainty.

"It's what they called you...isn't it?" she whispered, her voice hushed with horror. "Seventeen...it's not your name...but it's what they called you."

The vampire nodded miserably, his good arm crossed protectively over his torso in an instinctively defensive gesture, and Tara's tears fell from her eyes as she thought about the horror and shame of being treated as an object rather than a person. She felt a flash of fury toward the vampire's abusers, wondering once more what sort of people could be capable of such cruelty, could possibly have reduced this once bold, heroic creature from her dreams to a cringing shadow of his former self, believing and accepting the identity they had forced upon him as a number rather than a name.

Well, that ends now.

"What...what were you called...before? Before...they hurt you?" she persisted softly, her hand still holding his in a subtle display of support, her voice gentle and as non-threatening as possible. "Surely you had...a name...family...friends? What did your friends call you?"

It occurred to her only after she spoke to wonder if vampires did indeed have friends or family, but it was too late to take back her suggestion...and besides, her words seemed to have aroused a reaction in the vampire, after all.

Family. Friends.

The words took him back in time, his mind daring to edge toward memories long since buried in the back of his mind as far too painful to revisit. Flashes of familiar faces, voices, names, filled his thoughts, and his heart felt swollen, aching, with the weight of the various emotions they evoked.

Buffy...Dawn...Joyce...

Immediately, he pushed the thoughts away, unable to deal with them in the midst of the other, overwhelming things he had to consider at the moment. Where he was...what was going to happen to him...those were things he had to figure out now. All the rest - the things he had tried to remember, and then forced himself to forget in his captivity - could wait until he had time to consider them again.

Or possibly... forever.

The thought of the people he had known before seeing him...like this...knowing what had been done to him...it was simply more than he could bear.

Shutting his mind to the memories, he focused on Tara's question...and his heart did a funny little flip of fear in his chest. His trembling increased and he felt sick as he debated whether or not to answer her question.

His very name was a reminder of all that he had been...all they had taken from him.

That's a killer's name, vampire...that's the name of the powerful monster you *used* to be...

The words had been accompanied by a brutal kick as he lay, helpless, on the floor at the feet of his tormentors.

Tell us, Seventeen...how powerful do you feel *now*?

His very name was a reminder of all the things he'd done in his past, all the terrible crimes he'd committed. He'd claimed the name as a symbol of one of his first acts of atrocity upon his turning, and it had followed him throughout the years before the chip, striking fear into the hearts of all those in the demon world who had heard of his exploits...which was...well, mostly everyone.

And they had punished him for it.

His name was a symbol of his power...and they had stripped it from him.

"Please? Will you tell me?"

Tara's voice was gentle, encouraging, and it did not seem likely that she would hurt him for speaking his name...not when she was asking him to, and when she had not hurt him once thus far, unless it was an unavoidable part of helping him.

But...if she knew the things you've done...how evil you are...she'd cast you out...she won't want to help you anymore...and you can't...'s not allowed...not supposed to say that name...only supposed to answer to Seventeen...if they find out...if they hear...

Tara watched in dismay as he cringed back against the couch, shaking his head pleadingly, and she felt a sense of guilty frustration with herself for pushing the issue. It was just so horrifying to her to think of calling him by the coldly assigned number his captors had used...she had to know his name.

"Hey..." she murmured soothingly, reaching out her free hand to rest on his arm, turning him slightly back toward her. She tried to ignore the way he simply moved with her, allowing her to direct him where she would, as she did her best to calm him. "L-listen to me, Sweetie...okay? Nobody's going to hurt you. The p-people who did this to you...they're not here. They won't find you...c-can't hurt you anymore. Okay? And I'm not going to h-hurt you, either. I j-just want to know what to call you...wh-who you are. N-now...if you don't w-want to tell me...you don't have to. I w-wouldn't force you..."

She hesitated before adding in a soft, almost apologetic tone, "But I...r-really wish you would. Please..."

Her gentle plea was interrupted as the vampire gave a very quiet, garbled attempt at a response, his voice shaking and hoarse with unshed tears as he ducked his head in an instinctive flinch the moment the unintelligible word left his lips.

"What?" she asked quietly, leaning in closer in an attempt to catch what he had said. "It's okay...that's good, Sweetie, just...what did you say?"

The word was clearer the second time, though still spoken in a low, shamed whisper.

"Spike."

Then, after a moment, he clarified the single word, his voice only slightly stronger as he repeated,

"My n-name...is Spike."

Tara sat there in silence for a few moments, taking in the odd name the vampire had given her. But then, she considered, she had never known any vampires before. Perhaps "Spike" was a perfectly ordinary name for a vampire. She did not want to do anything to further alarm him, or to make him feel any less comfortable than he already was, so she settled into the couch again, edging just slightly nearer to him and clasping his hand in a firm but gentle touch.

"Well, then," she said in a mild voice with just a trace of humor. "Hello...Spike." She paused, her voice softening as she added in a tone that gave the single word a great wealth of meaning. "Welcome."

Welcome.

It was not a word he had heard often in his existence, either as a vampire, or during his brief years of human life. Spike or William, he had always been in someone's way - a burden to be tolerated at best, or ridiculed and abused at worst.

At least...he had thought that was worst.

The last few months had proven him wrong.

But Tara...she had changed everything, in a matter of a few short hours. She had set him free from the horrible torment of the collar, fed him warm, nourishing blood in place of the vile stuff his captors had given him, and constantly assured him that he was safe, and nothing bad was going to happen to him anymore.

He desperately wanted to believe her.

So when Tara slid a cautious, gentle arm around his slight shoulders and nestled in close to his side, he tensed, but accepted the contact. He wasn't sure what she wanted, what she planned to do with him, but he would do anything she told him, whatever she wanted, if only she would let him stay here, and keep them from hurting him again.

And besides...she actually asked him if it was all right first...a courtesy no one had shown him in a very long time.

"Is it okay if I...p-put my arm around you? I kn-know you said you w-want me to stay, but...but I won't touch you if you don't want me to. I...I'm just trying to help, okay? I just want you to...f-feel safe."

Even when he gave her a very hesitant, almost imperceptible nod, Tara was uncertain as to whether or not putting her arm around him was a good idea, but all she could do was to follow her instincts, and the fact that he wanted her to stay with him had to mean something, right? It seemed that her presence gave him a feeling of security in the midst of his fears and uncertainties; and with his sight so limited at the moment, and words so weak a method of dealing with such intensity of suffering, Tara found that the universal language of physical reassurance was the best thing she had left at her disposal.

After a few moments, however, her fears began to fade as she felt Spike's slight form relaxing against her side, and his ever-present trembling beginning to subside. She was careful not to move, not to do anything that might alarm him, only to sit there with him in comforting, quiet closeness.

She had so many questions, so many things she wished he could tell her...but she knew better than to push him now. He was only beginning to feel comfortable enough with her to speak at all; the last thing she wanted to do was press him to talk about the torment of his recent past before he was ready.

When he *is* ready...he'll tell you. You just have to wait...

~ TBC