Tara whispered a quick Latin word, gesturing over Spike's shoulder toward the closed training room door -- and magically sealing it shut for the moment. The last thing either of them needed right then was for a nosy Scoobie to walk in on them and see something that they would surely report back to the dangerously possessive Slayer.

Once she was sure that they were reasonably safe for the time being, she focused her attention on comforting her friend. He was staring up at her, pleading and desperation in his eyes -- mingled with sheer, uncontrolled terror. He was shaking violently, clearly on the verge of utter panic.

"Shhh," she whispered, raising a hand to run gently through the hair at the back of Spike's neck, and he lowered his head to her shoulder as she cradled him against her, rocking slightly. "It's all right -- she's gone. She's gone, Spike. You're safe now."

He was quiet for a moment, gasping back sobs in an effort to bring his emotions back under his control.

Finally, he whispered without looking up. "No -- no, I'm not..."

"It's up to you," Tara insisted, a note of severity to her voice as she latched onto his acknowledgement, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him back, forcing him to face her. "I will do all that I can to help you, but Spike, it's up to *you* whether or not you're safe from her!"

Spike's eyes welled with fresh tears, as he shook his head slowly in despair. "No," he whispered. "No it's not...not anymore..."

"Yes it is!" Tara forcefully argued, shaking him slightly as her wide, intent eyes searched his desperately for that spark of -- something -- courage? Pride? Self-preservation? She really did not know what she was looking for -- but she knew that she did not find it in his eyes. "You choose to stay with her, or to keep letting her do this to you again and again! Spike, you have to leave her!" she insisted emphatically, her piercing gaze refusing to allow him to look away from her again.

"Tara," Spike whispered tearfully, a hopeless note of defeat to his voice. "You don't understand. She won't -- she won't let me..."

"I made it so that she didn't have any say in it at all, Spike, until you..." Tara bit off the words, wincing slightly at the harsh sound of her own voice.

Spike flinched slightly, swallowing back a fresh sob, before whispering in a wretched tone of self-disgust, "I know -- it's my fault, I know...I'm so bloody stupid, love, I should never have let her in again..."

"I'm sorry," Tara whispered, running her hand gently down his cheek, immediate regret for her words in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Spike, I shouldn't have said that. It's not your fault she's doing this to you -- but -- you're the only one who can stop it, Spike. You have to leave her -- leave *town*, so she can't find you."

"Can't," Spike whispered, lowering his gaze in shame, swallowing hard. "She took my keys."

"To the DeSoto?" Tara frowned, incredulous.

Spike nodded. "And the bike."

Tara's eyes widened in indignation. "How could she...I mean...those are *your*..." Her voice trailed off, as she shook her head in angry disbelief.

Spike nodded again miserably, not saying a word.

"Well - you could hotwire the car - couldn't you?" Tara suggested after a moment.

"No," Spike shook his head, still not able to bring himself to meet her eyes again. "She - she moved the car. I don't know where she put it. Or the bike."

Tara's eyes narrowed in anger, and her lips formed a tight, determined line, as she disentangled herself from the discouraged vampire and rose carefully to her feet. Spike looked up at her in surprise, and his eyes were pleading and fearful. Tara realized with a pang of dismay and compassion that he was still not quite sure that he had not forfeited her help, her friendship, by opening his door to Buffy a few nights earlier.

"Come on," she said gently, holding out her hands to help pull him to his feet. "Let's go."

"Where?" Spike asked her, his shoulders sagging slightly with relief as he stood up beside her.

"My place. Buffy has no idea where it is. And I have a car - a car she's never seen before," Tara pointed out with a conspiratorial grin.

Spike smiled uncertainly back at her, though his eyes were troubled and fearful. "Tara - what are you..."

"Wait here," she instructed softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as she headed for the exit into the alley. "I'll pull the car around."

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

"Okay," Tara said in a tone of satisfied expectation, as she closed the door to her bedroom behind herself and Spike, and locked it firmly, then turned around to face her nervous guest. "Let's get those clothes off."

"*What*?" Spike gasped, his eyes wide with startled fear, as he took an involuntary step backward. "Love, what are you...?"

Tara felt tears well up in her eyes, as she reminded herself that the Spike she had known before his relationship with Buffy would have leered at her and made some sort of comment about why she wanted him naked, or some such thing. This uncertain, fearful version of the vampire she had known seemed truly frightened by her simple request.

She did not even want to think about why.

"It's okay, Spike," she gently reassured him, taking a cautious step toward him. "I just want to see how bad she hurt you - help you take care of it...okay?"

Spike shook his head rapidly, taking a couple more rapid steps backward. "I - I'm fine," he insisted, the words too quick, and a little shaky, as he once again refused to meet her eyes. "She didn't hurt me that bad, really, love. Just a couple of her standard punches to the nose, that's all. Hurt like bloody hell but healed up right quick enough..."

"Spike."

He froze, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing heavily, as the single word, spoken in that tone, told him that she was not buying his words for a second. Slowly, cautiously, her hands spread in front of her so as to be as unthreatening as possible, Tara advanced toward Spike, who had unconsciously backed away from her until his back was pressed against her wall, and he was shaking violently.

It seemed that he was not even aware of how badly shaken he really was.

"I-I'll be fine, love," he amended softly, apologetically, still without looking at her. "It's not that bad - I'd really rather not..."

His words broke off, and he flinched, as she stopped a couple of feet in front of him, and reached out a gentle hand to touch his arm, steadying him.

"It's okay," she whispered, taking his other arm and noting with sorrow and sympathy how badly the rigid flesh beneath her fingers was trembling. She ran her hands up and down his arms in a soothing, rhythmic motion, as she repeated, "Spike, it's okay - it's okay...hey..."

He glanced up at her at those words, panic in his wide, tearful eyes.

"Spike," she whispered tenderly, shaking her head in mild bewilderment as she held his gaze relentlessly. "you *know* I'm not gonna hurt you...you know that..."

He stared at her, nodding slowly in acceptance of those words, his mouth trembling as he struggled to hold back the well of emotions that he had kept bottled up for so long. Now, just a few moments of knowing that he was safe, if only for now, had brought those old emotions of fear and panic and helplessness - so carefully repressed during every moment he had spent at the meeting that day, with the Slayer in front of her friends - surging up inside of him, until he was not sure in this moment if he was going to be able to hold them back anymore.

"I'd never hurt you, Spike - don't you know that?" Tara whispered, edging in closer as she gently stroked up and down his arms.

Spike nodded more emphatically, his head lowered as tears streamed from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Tara," the words escaped him in a sob, as he raised his hands to clutch at her arms, leaning toward her. "I'm sorry - I know - I just - just can't..."

Tara felt it when the wall within him broke, and she wrapped her arms around him in one swift motion, enveloping him in her affection and support - holding him together as he fell to pieces in her arms. When he collapsed to the floor, she went down with him, holding him as she whispered, "It's okay...it's okay, Sweetheart...just go ahead and cry, Spike...it's okay...you're safe here...no one can hurt you here..."

And for the first time in months - Spike believed that he was.

For now.

As the force of his cathartic tears finally began to ebb, however, he began to feel a new concern building up within him.

"Tara," he rasped, raising himself up to look her in the eyes with concerned apprehension. "If she - if she finds me here..."

"She won't," Tara assured him. "The place is warded. No one can detect anything supernatural here." When he gave her a curious look, she shrugged and smiled. "A lot of demons are drawn to magical energy - it's just safer if they can't sense my magic. And in this case - can't sense you either." She raised a hand to gently brush back his loose, disheveled blonde curls.

Spike flinched - just slightly, and completely out of reflex - but Tara did not miss it.

"My God, Spike," she whispered, her voice hushed with horror, her eyes softened with compassion. "What did she do to you?"

Spike looked down again, uncomfortable, and awkwardly pulled away from her embrace, turning slightly and bracing his hand against the wall in an attempt to pull himself to his feet.

At the first slight pressure on his ribcage, he fell back down, biting back a cry of pain.

Tara's eyes narrowed with a grim resolve, and an anger that was not directed at the injured vampire before her.

"Yeah," she said flatly, pulling herself to her feet easily, and reaching down to support Spike with a gentle hand under one arm, and a firm but careful arm around his chest under his arms. "You're just fine. I can see that now."

Spike winced slightly, but managed to make it to his feet with her assistance. He did not respond to her words at all, as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

"I can't just send you away like this, Spike," Tara insisted firmly. "Not hurt this bad. And you have to get out of here."

Spike quietly sniffed back the last of his tears, rubbing a hand across his eyes, while keeping his back turned to her carefully. "I'll be fine, love," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "I've survived worse..."

"Worse," Tara echoed dubiously, raising one eyebrow. "Worse than a psychotic vampire *Slayer* -- you know, the supernatural being *designed* to hurt and destroy *vampires* -- using you as her own personal punching bag for months?"

When he did not respond, she moved around to face him, shifting to stand directly in front of him when he tried to turn away from her again. His back was to the wall again, and she was standing too close to allow him to turn his back on her.

"Spike," she insisted softly, seeking his gaze until he finally, reluctantly, met her eyes, "please let me help you. I'll never be able to rest knowing you're out there somewhere hurt like this - please..."

Spike swallowed convulsively, his jaw working as he struggled to control the shaking that was beginning again deep in his stomach. "Tara, I - I don't want - I mean - I don't mean to be so - such a bloody ponce," he finally admitted, his voice trembling slightly and his eyes downcast again. "It's just - right now - I think if you touched me..." He looked up at her suddenly in alarm, fearing that she might have misunderstood, as he clarified, "...if *anyone* touched me..." He shook his head despairingly. "...I don't think I could...I mean..."

Tara nodded slowly, her eyes softening with understanding. She was quiet for a moment, frowning pensively.

"What if..." she began thoughtfully after a moment, "...what if I used a spell? You know - something like the first time? Something to relax you a little bit, so you wouldn't feel so...so scared? Would that be all right?"

Spike hesitated, considering. "I - I don't want to fall asleep," he whispered, and the haunted expression in his eyes nearly took her breath, as a painful, hollow feeling started in Tara's stomach.

"It wouldn't have to make you fall asleep," Tara assured him softly. "It would just - make you feel safe. Secure. So you wouldn't be afraid of what I was doing."

Spike was silent, taking in those words, considering the idea. He seemed calmer now - but still uncertain.

"You know I won't hurt you," Tara whispered. "You know that - don't you? Do you trust me, Spike?"

There was no hesitation this time, as Spike nodded. "I do, Tara," he replied seriously. "I really do..."

"Then let me help you." She paused, a half-smile rising to her lips as she reminded him, "You asked me to help you - so let me."

Spike returned her smile with an effort, sighing - and she knew that he had relented.

"All right, then, Glinda," he said softly. "Do what you will, love. I - I trust you."

"Okay," Tara nodded with relief and satisfaction as she instructed him softly, "Lie down on the bed."