As they made their way carefully up the basement stairs into the kitchen, Dawn and Tara were each painfully aware of every faint, barely audible sound caused by their cautious footsteps, their occasional whispered voices only when necessary, and Spike's labored, anxious breathing.

Tara found some dark, fearful part of her on the edge of snapping at him to stop it, to be quiet, because he didn't need to breathe anyway, and even the softest sound felt as if it would bring the Slayer down upon them at any moment -- but of course, she didn't. She swallowed back a sick feeling of guilt at the very thought, realizing that the sharp, rapid breaths Spike was taking were simply evidence of the terror he was experiencing -- and she gently tightened her supporting arm about his trembling waist, shifting her body in closer to his.

"It's okay," she whispered, the words barely a breath against his ear. "It's gonna be all right, Sweetheart...just calm down, okay? We're gonna get you out of here..."

Spike lowered his head against her shoulder gratefully, in an attempt to stifle the involuntary sounds of his terror, nodding almost automatically, as if only because he knew that it was what was expected of him, not out of any real trust in her words -- and Tara could not blame him. She was not quite sure yet herself that it was really going to be all right; and she would not be, not until they were safely out of Buffy's house and well on their way out of town.

Perhaps, she acknowledged with a grim sense of apprehension, not even then.

She was just glad that they were only a few short yards from the back door off the kitchen, and not further into the house. If they had had any further to go, she was not sure that her precarious emotional state could have borne it.

Dawn glanced anxiously toward the doorway leading into the living room, as Tara hurried them quietly toward the door, slowly easing it open so as to avoid the usual squeaking sounds associated with most screen doors. Once they were all outside on the back porch, she closed it softly behind them, and Dawn helped her get Spike down the stairs, down the walkway and onto the sidewalk.

Only there did Tara finally stop for a moment, her eyes widening as a sudden question occurred to her. She gently turned Spike to face her, one hand under his chin tilting his downcast eyes up to meet hers. His fearful flinch at the personal touch troubled her, but she didn't have time to deal with it right then.

"Spike," she whispered, one hand pressed gently to his cheek, firmly insisting that he face her. "Look at me, Sweetie..."

The depths of shame and anguish in those painfully expressive blue eyes took her breath away when they locked onto hers, but Tara forced herself to ask the all important question that she had just remembered.

"Spike -- what did she do with the car?"

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

By the time the three of them reached the small side parking lot where Spike had left Tara's car, the night that Buffy had taken him, the battered, weakened vampire was beyond exhaustion. Tara felt sorry that they had to move so quickly, that they could not take time to allow him to rest and recover; but she knew that Buffy could wake up at any time, and discover the mess that had been made of her basement door, and the fact that her little sex slave was missing.

Her eyes narrowed with restrained rage at that thought, her jaw setting with angry determination as she helped Spike to lean against the side of the car.

Buffy would never get the chance to touch him again, not if she had anything to say about it.

The car door was unlocked, the key still in the ignition as Spike had left it -- and as Dawn helped Spike into the backseat, getting in beside him, Tara began to piece the missing parts of the story together.

"You came back here that night, didn't you?" she asked softly, turning around in the seat to give the frightened vampire a searching look.

He immediately looked away, his eyes wide and nearly panicked, as he shook his head frantically and tried to whisper a response that came out garbled and unintelligible -- but Tara knew by the look on his face what it was he was trying to say.

"Spike," she said firmly, reaching out to take his hand in hers, holding on gently when he would have pulled it away. "Look at me." When he did, she said slowly, intently, "You have *nothing* to be sorry for, Sweetheart. Do you hear me? *Nothing*. It's okay if you came back -- I am so far from angry with you right now...it just doesn't matter if you came back or not, okay? I'm just trying to figure out what happened? Okay?"

Spike only held her gaze through about half of her words, and when she finished he nodded miserably, his entire body shaking violently with the shock and fear of what was happening.

"You came back..."

He nodded again.

"She found you here..."

Another nod.

"And I'm guessing she never knew you had my car, did she? She didn't even know what my car looks like, and she didn't see you driving it -- right?"

Spike hesitated just a moment, as if unsure, before nodding cautiously.

"Okay. Well that's one thing we've got going for us," Tara sighed matter-of-factly. "It'll make it harder for her to find us."

"But not for long," Dawn pointed out quietly, her eyes wide and solemn as she pulled her friend closer to her in the backseat, pulling his head gently down on her shoulder and running her fingers comfortingly through his hair as she spoke to the older girl in the driver's seat. "Because Willow knows what your car looks like. And the second she finds out you're missing..." Dawn's eyes widened with new realization, as she added nervously, "...she'll use magic to find us, Tara."

Tara drew in a deep breath, a troubled frown creasing her brow. "I know," she sighed softly. "I -- I know a few things...I think I can hide us for a while. But -- but not forever."

"Tara," Dawn asked quietly after a moment, her wide eyes suddenly very young and uncertain, "where are we going?"

"I don't know," Tara admitted. "Just -- somewhere far away from here. If we'd -- if we'd had more time to plan it -- but we couldn't stop -- what she was doing to him *tonight*, without letting her know that we're on to her -- and we couldn't *not* stop it...I don't know, Dawnie, I just -- I guess we just have to take things as they come..."

Her words cut off as her attention was drawn to Spike, who was shaking his head emphatically, his eyes wide with alarm. He urgently sought her gaze until he caught it, and then glanced pointedly down toward the mark on his leg, his trembling hand hovering over it as he looked back up at her, a silent question in his eyes as to whether she understood.

Tara's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, God, Spike...she can track you with that, can't she?"

Spike nodded, swallowing hard as he lowered his eyes.

"What? Track you through what?" Dawn frowned, worried as she looked between the two of them.

"It doesn't matter," Tara decided after a moment, shaking her head. "It doesn't change anything. I won't leave you there again, Spike -- I won't -- and even if we did, we can't get that door back on ourselves..."

"Yeah," Dawn muttered a bit sheepishly, glancing apologetically up at Spike. "I sort of -- bent the hinges..."

"...she's gonna know, one way or another. And she can either know, and we can still be within her reach...or she can know, and we can be hundreds of miles away. We're going, and the first chance we get, we'll find a magic shop and try to find a way to break that bond..."

*Maybe Giles would help...* The thought crossed Tara's mind, but she was uncertain just then as to whether or not that was a good idea. Giles might be willing to help them, if he understood just how far gone his Slayer really was -- but it was just as likely that he would believe Buffy over them, and take her side, placing them in even worse danger than they had been before.

"What bond?" Dawn asked, sounding a bit annoyed with yet another grown up topic of conversation which was apparently being kept from her.

"I'll explain while we're driving," Tara assured her quickly, a bit impatiently, "but first things first -- we have to have a plan -- which as far as I'm concerned, consists, of 'let's get as far away from Sunnydale as we can before Buffy wakes up'. And we have to get some blood for Spike, if those burns are gonna heal up okay..."

"On it," Dawn muttered without hesitation, leaning forward and reaching into her pocket, one arm still around Spike's waist, holding him close to her as she dug around for the item she was seeking.

Tara's eyes widened when she saw the tiny silver pocketknife that Dawn had retrieved, and was now using her teeth to open the small, sharp blade.

"Dawnie, no...we'll find another way..." she objected, frowning with concern at the thought of the young girl's sacrificing her own blood -- although admittedly, the thought of offering her own had already occurred to Tara.

"You said it yourself," Dawn cut her off, meeting her eyes matter-of-factly. "We have no time for pit stops -- not that we could find a butcher's shop open this time of the night anyway. Besides, butchers outside of Sunnydale probably aren't going to be as understanding about two girls coming in and ordering pigs' blood, and we sure can't wait around here until morning. Besides -- I know how to do it so it doesn't really do much damage."

A flash of concern and alarm in Tara's eyes at those words drove Dawn's gaze downward to her own arm, as her lips set with grim determination and she poised the blade above her vein.

Realizing what it was that she intended to do, Spike suddenly scrambled out from under her arm, snatching the tiny blade from her hand and backing away from her against the opposite door of the car, meeting Dawn's eyes and shaking his head emphatically.

"Spike, don't be dumb," Dawn sighed impatiently, her eyes serious as she held out her hand for the knife. "I'm not gonna hurt myself, I know what I'm doing. Give me that knife, I'm not gonna just let you sit here and suffer with those burns in your mouth...you can't even talk!"

Spike stubbornly refused, tucking the knife into the pocket of his own jeans and shaking his head again.

Frustration and fear for her friend's well being filled Dawn's voice as she snapped, "Damn it, Spike, if you don't give me that knife, so help me, I'll..."

Her voice trailed off as he flinched at the anger in her voice, drawing back against the door, his head turned to the side, away from her with an instinctive fear that was second nature to him now -- but he still refused to comply with her words.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shaking her head with regret at her own temper. "Spike, I'm sorry -- it's just -- you can't even talk because of what she did to you, and I just -- I can't stand to see you like this..." Tears streaked Dawn's face as she pleaded softly, "It won't even hurt me! I can give you just as much as you need and no more, please, Spike..."

"Dawnie," Tara gently interrupted the tense scene between the two friends, reaching out a gentle hand to touch Dawn's trembling arm, drawing her wide, tearful gaze up to her own, "Dawnie, Sweetie -- he doesn't look like he's been starving, really. Chances are she's not been keeping blood from him -- and if he's eaten recently...have you, Spike?"

She interrupted her own explanation with the question, and Spike nodded slowly, not looking directly at either girl.

"Okay -- so he's eaten recently. So if I understand correctly -- now that the holy water's not in contact with his mouth anymore, it should start to heal up on its own, without extra blood -- right?" She looked to Spike again for affirmation, her voice and eyes softening with sympathy as she added, "It *was* holy water -- right?"

He nodded again, his own eyes welling with fresh tears of shame and heartache.

Dawn instinctively reached out a hand to rest reassuringly on his arm, her attention still focused on Tara as she went on.

"So he'll be okay. I mean, he might not heal completely without more blood -- but he can at least make it until we can get out of town, okay? Until morning? We'll drive all night, find a place to stop, and decide what to do about blood then."

Dawn nodded reluctantly, her head bowed, and Tara could tell that as far as she was concerned, the argument was not really over.

As far as Tara was concerned, it wasn't, either.

Turning her mildly severe gaze on Spike, she added gently, "And just for the record, Dawn's right. The further we get from the Hellmouth, the harder it's likely going to be to find blood for you. Sooner or later we are going to have to at least talk about the idea of your accepting blood from us, Spike."

Spike did not protest, but he did not agree either. He did not move at all, his eyes lowered and turned away as he swallowed hard, his mouth beginning to tremble dangerously. He bowed his head, visibly choking back a sob, and Dawn moved cautiously to pull him back into her arms.

"Spike -- it's okay -- please -- come here," she gently urged him, her voice barely over a whisper. "I'm sorry, Spike -- please come to me..."

Awkwardly he allowed her to embrace him again, allowed his tears to come, as Dawn wrapped her arms around him and settled them both carefully against the backseat, looking back up to Tara with a silent question in her eyes -- a question that told Tara with a devastating certainty, that she was the unofficially appointed leader of this little band of fugitives in the making.

She swallowed back her rising apprehension, that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought.

She wasn't quite sure that she was really up to it.

But she *was* sure that like it or not, she was going to have to be.

"Okay," Tara whispered. "Let's go."