Tara awakened before the others, several hours later.

Glancing at her watch on the bedside table, she noted with some alarm that it was already two o'clock in the afternoon -- and remembered uneasily that they really had no guarantee that Buffy was not looking for them already. Yes, according to Dawn, it was highly unlikely that Buffy would have noticed that Spike was missing, in her usual late morning rush.

But it was not impossible.

"Spike," she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse with sleep as she nudged the exhausted vampire, regretting that she had to wake him before he awakened on his own. "Spike -- we have to go...get up, Sweetie..."

He stirred, letting out a low moan in his sleep as he turned to face her, sleepy blue eyes blinking up at her fearfully for a moment...before he remembered where he was, and with whom, and the fear faded away, at least into the background of his thoughts.

"What time is it?" he asked, his own voice slightly raspy, as much from the countless tears he had shed the night before as from sleep. "Time to go?"

"Yeah," Tara replied, getting up and crossing the room to wake Dawn. "It's like, two...but we can't wait any longer. Buffy could be looking for us already..."

"She's not."

The soft certainty in Spike's voice stopped Tara where she was, and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. The look in his eyes was calm, but still haunted by a fear that Tara knew would be a long time in leaving him, no matter how far they managed to stay ahead of Buffy.

*Buffy could die tomorrow,* she thought bitterly, *and Spike would still be dealing with the aftermath of the horrible things she's done to him. Hmmm...Buffy could die...*

Alarmed at the dark turn her own thoughts were taking, Tara shook her head slightly as she refocused on Spike's words and asked softly, "How can you know?"

Spike's gaze was suddenly averted, but his hand fell unconsciously to rest over the covered mark on his leg as he answered in a voice barely over a whisper, "If she knew I was gone -- I'd know."

Tara felt her blood run cold at the simple resignation she heard in his voice -- and the new knowledge of a threat she had not even considered to this point. She had known there was a good chance that Buffy would be able to find them using the mark she had placed on Spike -- but was it possible that she could use that same mark to *hurt* him as well, even from so far away?

She almost didn't dare ask.

Except -- she *had* to ask.

"Spike...can she...can she hurt you? Even -- from Sunnydale?"

Spike did not answer for a long moment, just swallowed hard and kept his eyes averted self-consciously -- and it was all the answer Tara needed.

"Okay," Tara stated firmly, continuing on her way to Dawn's side to wake her as she spoke to Spike. "First order of business -- besides getting as much distance between us and her as possible -- is finding a way to get rid of that thing."

Spike's silence, and the dubious expression on his face, told her that he really did not think that was possible -- and maybe it was not. But Tara knew that Spike would never truly be free of Buffy's control, as long as he wore her mark -- and she was determined not to give up until she found a way.

Tara gently shook the teenager's shoulder, quietly speaking her name -- and soon realized that that was not going to do the trick. She shook her harder, nearly yelling her name the second time.

When there was still no evidence that her actions had had any effect at all, Spike moved to the side of the bed, and abruptly grasped the covers and yanked them completely off the bed, shouting, "Wake up call, Bit! You have five seconds to decide if you're gonna go take your shower in the bathroom, or if I'm gonna give it to you right here!"

Finally, a sleepy, grumpy, barely responsive Dawn mumbled something about annoying vampires, and towels, as she stumbled to her feet and trudged zombie-like toward the tiny motel room bathroom.

Tara looked up at Spike in amused surprise, and he shrugged with a sort of shy half-smile, the sort of look that reminded Tara just how little positive interaction he had had with anyone lately.

"Spent the whole summer getting her off to school," he explained quietly. "Had to get creative sometimes."

A gentle smile came over Tara's face as she moved cautiously toward him, pleased to hear the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom, letting them know that Dawn was getting ready. As she neared him, however, her smile faded at the nervous demeanor that still came with her physical closeness to him.

"How are you doing?" she asked softly, reaching out a hand to brush through his disheveled hair, expecting his flinch, and not reacting to it. "This morning? Better?"

He nodded, though he wouldn't quite look at her, and Tara felt only mild disappointment, accepting the fact that it was quite possible that they would go through this over and over for a while -- this building of fragile trust that faded away in the midst of his nightmares, only to be rebuilt the next day by constant, patient reassurance.

She had been where he was, to a certain degree, and she understood many of the emotions he was struggling with -- fear, confusion, shame, guilt, and others, others that had no names, and could not be described even by those who had felt them, or understood by those who had not.

But thankfully -- Tara *had* felt them. And she was willing to go through this with Spike every morning, for the rest of her life if she had to, until it finally took.

"Right," she said in a softly sarcastic tone, still running her fingertips lightly through his hair in that repetitive gesture of affection. "You're fine. I can see that."

He glanced up at her sharply, before rolling his eyes at himself and sighing wearily.

"Sorry, love...I c-can't...can't help it..."

"I know," she said simply, cutting off his nervous attempt at explanation, as she took his hand and led him to sit down beside her on the bed Dawn had slept in the night before. "And it's okay. No one could help it, after all you've been through, Spike. Not necessarily every day -- but a little at a time -- it'll get easier, and easier..."

As she spoke, she continued her gentle, non-threatening caresses through his hair, until she felt his head lean slightly into the touch, her other hand still gently, firmly clasping his.

"...until one day..." she went on in a soothingly rhythmic tone of voice, "...you'll finally understand...that not everyone who touches you...wants to hurt you..."

He looked up at her, that look of awe in his glistening blue eyes, as he shook his head slightly in wonder and whispered, "H-how do you...? I mean -- you just..."

"What?" she pressed him gently, without ceasing her gentle ministrations, leaning back against the headboard and pulling him gently back with her. "I just what, Spike?"

He leaned his head against her shoulder, apparently finding it easier to say what he wanted to say if he wasn't looking at her, and once her face was outside his line of vision, Tara allowed her concerned frown to crease her brow. There were so many little evidences of his brokenness, so many details that spoke of how thoroughly devastated he was, and would likely be for a long time.

That stutter -- so uncharacteristic of the Spike she knew -- was one of them.

She recognized that stutter -- because it had once been her own, sometimes still was.

"H-how do you -- do you know just what to say?" he finished his question, his voice hushed and almost reverent. "How do you seem to know j-just what I'm feeling, and just w-when I need to hear..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head slightly -- but Tara had heard enough to know what he was asking.

And enough to know that she was not quite ready to give him the answer.

So she didn't.

They just sat there in silence, and Spike seemed to accept it, with the physical comfort she offered. He knew what it was to have secrets that never would see the light of day, and he knew better than to press her to share hers; though secretly, Tara was sure that the time would come when she would open her own hurts up to Spike -- but that time was not now.

Not now, when he was only just beginning to come to terms with his own.

When they heard the water turn off in the bathroom, Spike sat up a bit awkwardly, clearly not wanting Dawn to walk out and see his vulnerability and need for comfort on such open display. Tara noticed with an odd little warmth in her heart, however, that he kept his hand in hers as Dawn walked out of the bathroom in the same clothes she had worn the day before.

"This is so incredibly gross," she grumbled, opening her mouth to continue.

Before she could, Tara said simply, "Look in the Wal-mart bag on the table."

Dawn squealed with excitement when she saw the clothes Tara had picked out, before looking at the older girl with wide, uncertain eyes and asking, "Is it totally inappropriate to get all excited over new clothes when we're hunted fugitives?"

Tara couldn't help but grin as she shook her head and reassured her, "It's never inappropriate to get excited about new clothes."

Once Dawn had emerged from the bathroom the second time, fully clothed in her new clothes, she took a seat in the chair beside the bed where Spike and Tara were seated, and the three of them began to discuss their options.

Which, admittedly, were not all that great.

"So basically," Dawn summed up glumly, after a few moments of discussion, "we have to get away from Buffy, keep her from finding us, find a way to get rid of that mark so she *can't* find us, and also deal with the whole Spike-can't-travel-in-the-daytime issue...and Buffy could already be on her way here."

"Could be," Tara pointed out hopefully, "but might not be..."

"She isn't," Spike insisted quietly. "I'm telling you, she doesn't know I'm gone yet."

"And it's nearly three," Dawn observed, her eyes lighting up hopefully. "Which means that she went off to work today without noticing anything wrong. Which means, she'll be there until like, six or seven."

"Right around sunset," Tara sighed. "Which means we really can't waste time, we need to get on the road..."

"Maybe she's working over tonight," Dawn suggested hopefully, looking between her friends. "She does that a lot. I mean, it's actually more likely than not that she *is* working late -- we just can't know for sure."

"Sure we can." Tara's eyes narrowed slightly, as an idea occurred to her. "Why don't you call her and ask her?" she suggested, a slightly wicked smile on her lips.

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

"Buffy -- phone!"

The Slayer frowned as she made her way across the humid kitchen of the Doublemeat Palace to the telephone, grimacing as she picked up the greasy receiver as gingerly as she could, and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

She knew she sounded curt and impatient.

She really didn't care.

"Hey, Buffy..."

Her irritation increased at the sound of her little sister's voice.

"Hey, Dawnie," she replied quickly, forcing herself to sound halfway pleasant. "What's up, I'm really busy."

It was an outright lie. They hadn't had a customer in twenty minutes.

"Okay, sorry...I just wanted to ask you something..."

Dawn sounded a bit nervous, probably due to her sharp tone of voice, but Buffy did not feel too bad about it. After all, Dawn was the one bothering her at work; if the girl got a bit of a case of hurt feelings, maybe it would teach the spoiled brat a lesson in manners.

"What is it?" she demanded impatiently.

"Can I spend the night at Janice's tonight? I mean...I was just thinking, if you're working late again, it's gonna be just me at the house, and..."

"I don't like Janice. I don't want you over there," Buffy cut her off. "No, I want you to stay home."

"Oh, so you're gonna be out all night working, but you don't care if I'm all by myself?" Dawn shot back, anger in her voice. "That's not even safe! Why can't I go? You *are* working a double, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, but that's beside the point, and it's not like Janice could protect you anyway," Buffy snapped, her thin patience on the verge of disappearing completely. "You are staying home. That's final. And if you don't, trust me, I *will* find out about it, and you will *never* go anywhere again until you're thirty. Good night, Dawn."

And without waiting for a response, she hung up the phone, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

But as soon as she hung up the phone, she began to wonder if perhaps she had made a mistake. Dawn, alone in the house and bored for several hours, was not necessarily a good thing -- especially with her personal vampire slave chained up in the basement. Oh, she had picked a good strong padlock, but she wouldn't put it past Dawn to at least *try* to get past it and see what her sister was hiding down there.

As for Spike, she knew that he knew better than to make a sound, or to deliberately attempt to draw Dawn's attention in any way -- but a lot of good that would do her, if Dawn just happened on him by herself.

Her mind made up, she went back to the phone, preparing herself to do her apologetic big sister voice, and tell Dawn how she had changed her mind, and she could go, and she was sorry for being so harsh with her.

When no one answered the phone, she frowned as she hung the receiver up, shaking her head in annoyance and frustration.

"Stupid kid," she muttered. "I'm gonna have to teach her a lesson one of these days...thinks she can do whatever she wants, no matter what I say...she's probably on her way over there already..."

But by the time she reached the counter again to serve the customer who had just walked in, she was already feeling better. Dawn's rebellious streak, in this instance, only served her own purposes, anyway. It would keep Dawn from discovering Spike while she was at work, that much was for sure.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind of the suffering vampire, still chained and gagged with the holy water dampened rag she had shoved into his mouth, and she wondered a bit uneasily just how much damage would have been done by it by the time she got home.

*Doesn't matter,* she decided coldly. *He'll heal, anyway. It might take him a while -- but that'll just teach him that I mean business, and I don't think he'll *ever* talk back to me again!*

She smirked at that thought, shrugging it off as a suggestive smile rose to her lips.

*Besides -- it's not like I can't do without his mouth for a few weeks, anyway. There are plenty of other ways he can be used to -- amuse me.*

And with that rather pleasant thought, Buffy put Spike out of her mind for the next twelve hours -- unwittingly giving the little band of fugitives plenty of time in which to make good their escape.