"I'll kill her," Tara said softly, her smoldering grey eyes darkened to the shade of charcoal as she took in the extent of the damage that had been done to her friend. "Spike, I swear, I'm gonna kill her for this..."

The vampire looked up at her, apprehension in his wide blue eyes. "Tara, love," he whispered, shaking his head slowly, "don't...don't bloody mess with her, pet. She -- she'll kill you..."

Tara huffed softly, her eyes narrowed in anger that sent a slight chill down Spike's spine, even though he knew it was not directed at him. "She'll try," she countered softly.

Spike's eyes widened in dismay at those words. "Tara," he tried again. "Tara, you don't understand how powerful she is..."

"Maybe she doesn't understand how powerful *I* am!"

"I'm leaving town, love!" Spike insisted, his voice trembling slightly with his fear for his friend. "Just as soon as you've got me all patched up...so why take the chance? Why risk your safety when everything will be fine soon enough?"

Tara hesitated then, unable to come up with a reasonable answer.

"Please, Tara," he urged her softly, reaching out a hand to take hers again. "Please -- don't -- don't take her on -- not when you don't have to..." His voice softened slightly, taking on a humble tone of dismay that tore at the blonde witch's heart, as he added, "...not for me..."

Tara's expression softened, and she gently squeezed his hand as she sighed and relented, "Okay, Spike - don't worry, I won't, not unless I have to - but you do realize that you're about the *only* person I would take on a psychotic vampire Slayer for, right? What's this 'not for me' crap?"

Spike looked away, clearly a bit uncomfortable with her kind words, and her calling him on his own self-deprecation - which, in her opinion, was becoming all too frequent.

It was good that he was getting away from Buffy *now*, before it could become any worse.

Tara let it go, as she set about tending to his countless injuries, with a very mild healing spell. Cautiously, she allowed her hands to hover, just barely not touching his battered chest and stomach, as she murmured the quiet Latin words that would help to heal his broken body.

Spike closed his eyes and visibly relaxed, lulled into a peaceful sensation of warmth by the white magic that flowed out from her hands and into his wounds, gently healing them. Bruises faded away...burns so severe that they were nearly black grew red, then pink, and then healed completely before Tara's eyes...and vicious cuts the Slayer had made in his flesh sealed up and vanished as she worked over him.

Finally, Tara was almost finished. All that was left of Spike's injuries was that single carved "B" on his thigh - the deepest cut of all the ones Buffy had made.

Clearly, the Slayer had intended the marking to last.

"I can't believe she did this," Tara said softly, her tone darkening slightly, though she kept it calm, as she reached out a cautious, gentle hand to trace along the edge of the initial.

Spike suddenly jerked away from her hand with a little yelp of pain, as he scrambled up to a sitting position against the headboard, wild, panicked eyes meeting hers. "Don't!" he gasped. "Tara, don't touch it!"

Tara frowned, alarmed by his reaction. "What is it, Spike?" she asked him anxiously, moving in closer almost instinctively, though she made no further move to touch the injury. "Does it hurt that bad, Sweetie? I'm so sorry..."

"J-just don't touch it, Tara," Spike repeated, suddenly unwilling to meet her eyes. "Just let it be..."

Confused, Tara's frown deepened as she argued quietly, "But - it'll just take me a minute to make it go away completely, Spike. I promise it won't hurt you - just let me..."

"*No*!" Spike snapped, his voice trembling as he slid toward the other side of the bed as if to get up. "I said don't touch it!"

Tara's eyes slowly narrowed, as she began to think that she understood his reaction - and a slow-burning anger began to build in her chest. "Why not?" she demanded calmly, rising to her feet as Spike stood up on the other side of the bed, and reached hurriedly for his pants. "Why don't you want me to make it go away, Spike?"

"Just let it be, Tara," Spike muttered, turning away from her as he pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt swiftly with trembling fingers.

"You *want* to keep her mark on you, Spike, is that it?" Tara pressed, unwilling to let the issue go so easily. "You're willing to leave town - but you don't want to sever *all* ties with her, do you?" Her tone was angry now, angry and frustrated that once again, Spike seemed unwilling to follow through with what was in his own best interest.

The mark didn't matter so much; it would surely heal on its own in time.

The mindset that made him want to keep it, however - that would eventually kill him.

"It's not about what I want," Spike snapped back at her wearily. "Please, Tara, just - just let's don't talk about it, yeah?"

"But I *want* to talk about it!" Tara insisted, moving around the bed to block his path as he headed toward the door. Her eyes softened with concern as she tried her best to catch his averted gaze, reaching out a hand to touch his arm, even as he flinched backward away from her. "Spike," she said in a gentler tone of voice, "Why won't you let me make that go away? Why are you holding onto it?"

Spike was quiet for a long moment, not looking at her, bouncing nervously on his heels in his eagerness to escape this uncomfortable conversation. His jaw worked with emotion he was trying to repress, before he finally gave in with a shaky sigh and mumbled in a barely audible voice, "Because I haven't got a bloody choice, love..."

Tara frowned. "What do you mean you haven't got a choice?"

Spike finally met her eyes, and there was a resignation, and a deep-seated fear in his eyes, that nearly took Tara's breath to see it.

"It *won't* go away, Tara - no matter what magic you use to try and make it go away. It's magic itself, love."

Tara stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head slightly. "But - how...?"

"Even a Slayer can manage a simple bit of magic...simple, but bloody well foolproof from what I can tell," Spike explained in a soft, subdued voice of quiet misery. "And - and she wanted me marked as hers. It's permanent - it'll heal up right good and proper...but it'll scar...and...and you can't try and change it with magic, love..."

Horrified at the extent to which the Slayer had gone to emphasize her possessive attitude toward the abused vampire, Tara just stared at him for a long moment in disbelief. Finally, she whispered, "Spike - how long's it been since she...?"

"Just last night," he replied quietly, his eyes downcast as he leaned back against the wall behind him with a heavy sigh. "It's already starting to heal, love, don't worry about it..."

"But - when I touched it, it seemed to hurt you so much..."

"If *anyone* touched it - anyone but her," Spike explained, shame in his voice and his tear-filled eyes, "it'd hurt, love. That's the nature of the thing. Anyone touches me - anywhere near it - it's bloody painful. She - she wants to be sure I'm - I'm hers alone..."

Tara was silent for a long moment, just trying to process the extreme violation that had been inflicted on her friend. Finally, she looked up to meet his eyes again and said in a soft, even voice,

"Like I was saying - about going after Buffy if I *have* to..."

"You *don't* have to!" Spike interrupted in a mixture of anger and fear, his piercing gaze locking onto hers in a mixture of a demand and a plea. "Tara, you promised...you can't...I'm leaving, yeah? I'm leaving..."

"And she can't - use this mark to hurt you, if you try to leave? Or - to make you come back?" Tara frowned, unconvinced.

"No," Spike assured her, his gaze open and honest, willing her to see the truth. "It's just - just to keep me - faithful to her. That's all. It doesn't have any other magical - properties, love."

Tara searched his gaze a moment longer, before sighing in resigned acceptance of his words. "Okay," she conceded quietly. "I won't go after Buffy." She paused a moment before adding, "Can't say I'll be going near any of the Scoobies, or the Magic Box for a while, either. Because I think if I see her I'll have to slap her."

Spike laughed in surprise at her unexpected announcement, and then met her eyes, sorrow and uncertainty visible past the small, tentative smile on his lips.

"Thank you - so much, love," he said in a voice that was barely over a whisper. "You didn't have to - to do any of this, for me. You - you're a bloody good friend, Glinda."

Tara felt her eyes well with tears, as she reached up a gentle hand to brush his cheek. "So are you," she replied. "And I'll always be your friend, Spike. If you ever need me - you have my number. Call me - okay? I'll always be here for you."

Clearing his throat as he tried to fight back his own tears, Spike blinked and looked away as he replied in a slightly gruff, throaty voice, "I'll come back and see you..."

"No, you won't," Tara interrupted firmly, holding his gaze seriously. "It's not safe for you to be here, Spike - even just for a little while. Not as long as she's here. In fact - you really need to hurry, Sweetheart..."

Spike nodded his acceptance of her advice, before asking softly, "So - what did you have in mind, love? Seeing as the Slayer's confiscated my means of transportation?"

"Buffy doesn't even know I have a car," Tara explained softly. "And I was about to buy a new one anyway...so...I want you to take it."

Spike's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't be bloody serious..."

"I am," Tara stated firmly. "Take it, Spike. I want you to get out of here safely - and you can't do that on foot, or in a stolen vehicle."

"I can't do that, love..." he protested, shaking his head.

"Yes, you can - and you will." Tara's voice was both gentle and unyielding at the same time. "You have to, Spike - there's no other way." She paused, but then cut him off when he seemed about to protest again. "She'll kill you if you don't get out, *now*."

Spike was silent, studying her expression, until he seemed certain that she was not going to change her mind, no matter what argument he tried to use. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, and submitted to her wishes on the matter.

"Right, then. Off I go."

Tara's smile of elation and relief served to melt away his guilt and uncertainty over taking her transportation, and he returned her smile with growing confidence.

"Call me when you get settled somewhere," Tara suggested softly. "We'll keep in touch."

"Okay," Spike agreed readily, and she knew that he meant it, and would. A bit awkwardly, shyly, Spike leaned in and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her cheek, pulling back to give her a grateful smile. "Thanks, love," he whispered, his voice husky with tears.

Tara couldn't see through her own, as she took her keys from her pocket and pressed them into his hand. "Anytime," she whispered back - then abruptly looked away, clearing her throat. "You'd better go if you're going," she remarked softly, drawing back away from him - suddenly very much aware that the longer they drew this out, the more difficult it would be.

Suddenly - she couldn't stand the thought of his not being there.

Finally, she forced herself to look up again, wanting to catch one last glimpse of her friend before he left.

But when she looked up - he was already gone.

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

Spike was on the outskirts of Sunnydale when he remembered something vitally important, cursing quietly under his breath at the realization. He glanced down at the gauges on the dashboard, and then at the clock, wondering if he had time to return.

Buffy was working tonight, and would not get off for another half an hour at least.

It was very little risk, really - and no great chance to take...not when his beloved duster was concerned.

With a sigh of resignation, Spike turned the car around and headed back to his crypt, to get the one forgotten item that he could not leave without - the one reminder of the life he was leaving behind which he was not willing to leave in the past.