"*I'll be your cloud up in the sky...I'll be your shoulder when you cry...I'll hear your voice when you call...I'm your angel...*"

Tara softly sang the words, her voice hushed in the stillness of the bedroom, dropping to a hum when she reached a part of the song to which she did not know the words. As shaken as he had been a little while earlier, Spike was now exhausted, and on the verge of sleep. She had instinctively started humming softly a few minutes earlier as she held him, stopping self-consciously when she had realized she was doing it.

But he had asked her to keep singing.

And she could not refuse him.

"Knock, knock."

The words were not accompanied by the corresponding actions, as a curious green face peeked around the door to the room where Tara and Spike were resting, waiting for Angel to come up and tell them it was all right to come back downstairs.

They were lying on the bed in a purely platonic embrace that seemed to be becoming quite ordinary for the two of them. Their heads were leaned against each other, and Tara's arms were wrapped firmly around Spike's slim form, while one of his arms was draped comfortably across her stomach.

His eyes were closed...but he was not asleep.

"Come on in," Tara smiled at Lorne, who was already on his way in, followed by Dawn. "We're just resting."

Her expression became concerned when she saw the distant, distracted expression on Dawn's face. Her eyes were glittering with moisture, and she did not look at either Tara or Spike as she walked into the room and took a seat in a chair beside the bed, staring at the wall, lost in her own thoughts.

"Dawnie?"

The girl looked up at Tara, a dreamy expression in her eyes as she whispered, "Yes?"

"Dawnie, are you okay?" Tara frowned, uncertain.

Dawn did not seem upset, exactly. She was smiling, and her eyes were shining with a light of hope that had been painfully absent from her face for the past few weeks. But there were tears in her eyes, and she seemed to be pondering deep, heavy things, perhaps things that were *too* heavy for her, given all that she was already going through.

"I'm fine," Dawn assured her with a warm smile, though it was a smile through tears. "I just...I just, um...I think I need to be alone for a little while," she decided with a slow nod, rising from the chair and heading toward the door. "I'm going to go back into the other room, and...and lie down, I think..."

At the slow, hazy sound of her voice, Spike finally looked up, concern in his eyes. "Niblet? What's wrong? Why...?"

Dawn did not appear to hear him as she walked out the door and closed it quietly behind her.

"Dawnie..." Tara called after her, feeling a faint sense of alarm, though she wasn't sure why.

"She's okay, pumpkin," Lorne interrupted with a light touch on the blonde witch's arm, stopping her when she thought to rise from the bed and go after the girl. "I promise. We were just...talking, and...well, I guess I gave her a lot to think about."

Tara opened her mouth to reply, a confused frown on her face, but before she could speak, a low growl rose from her side, as Spike sat up, eyes flashing golden as he glared at the green-skinned demon now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"If you touched her..."

"Whoa, whoa..." Lorne protested, eyes widening as he held out both hands in front of him in a halting gesture. "Slow down, Mr. White Knight! I didn't do anything to her, I promise! She really is fine! Just let me explain before you bring out the bumpies, ‘kay?"

Spike's menacing growl receded to a low rumble under his unnecessary breath, as he grudgingly leaned back against Tara again, watching Lorne suspiciously.

"Okay...see...I'm what you might call an empath. I can...read people. Their auras, their...emotions..." Lorne explained.

Spike rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to express skepticism, his natural skepticism that tended to go along with anything related to magic -- but before he could speak, Tara's face broke into a delighted smile.

"You are?" she exulted. "Me too!"

"You are?" Spike echoed, though his question was directed at Tara. He seemed bewildered by the whole concept. "You can...read people's minds and such?"

"Not their minds," Tara shrugged. "That would be...far too invasive. But...I *can* pick up on certain aspects of their emotions, for example...like, if someone's being honest or not...or if they're in a...a state of turmoil...the kind of stuff you can read in someone's aura, you know..."

"No," Spike drawled. "I really don't."

"Is that how it is for you?" Tara asked Lorne, an eager smile on her face. She was obviously delighted to find what she clearly perceived to be a kindred spirit, someone who shared her gift.

Spike was not particularly interested in sharing at the moment.

"I'm sure it's not the same, exactly," he interjected. "Everyone's different...some more than others..."

"Yeah," Lorne nodded. "That's pretty much how I am, too, Honeybun. I can pick up on very basic, simple stuff just by being around a person. But it can get a little more...specific. I can read a bit more than just basic feelings and all. Under the right circumstances, I can sometimes even tell someone their future."

"Seems bloody invasive to me," Spike muttered.

Tara glanced at him with a puzzled frown, uncertain as to what was bringing about his defensive, nearly hostile mood. When he pointedly did not look at her, she shrugged inwardly and returned her attention to Lorne...completely unaware that she was only contributing to Spike's negative feelings by doing so.

"Oh, no," Lorne hurried to assure both of them, "I don't read people's minds or anything like that unless they ask me to. And even then, there are special...procedures...that have to be done, or I can't see anything." He shrugged.

"What special procedures? Like a spell?" Tara asked, clearly highly intrigued.

"Bloody dangerous, magic," Spike muttered. "Casting spells all willy nilly..."

"No...the person who wants me to read their future...tell them what they should do, that sort of thing...well...they have to sing," Lorne explained.

Tara and Spike both stared at him, caught quite off guard by that information.

After a moment, understanding came to Tara, and she looked up at Lorne again with a speculative smile.

"Did Dawn sing for you?" she asked, but her knowing tone made it clear that she already knew the answer.

Lorne returned her smile as he answered simply, "Yes."

"And you told her her future? Is that what she's all starry-eyed about?" Spike frowned, glancing toward the door where he had last seen his beloved Niblet, his worry evident on his face.

"Yes."

"Why was she crying? Is it bad?"

"There's a little bit of bad in everybody's future," Lorne answered evasively, though he held Spike's gaze without hesitation. "That's just the nature of the beast, Sweetie-Pie. But that's not why she was crying. Like I said...she's just got a lot to think about."

All three of them were quiet for a long moment as Tara and Spike processed his words, each thinking their own private thoughts about what little Dawn's future might hold, while Lorne just sat there and let them think it through.

"Could you read my future?" Spike asked quietly, his voice and words startling Tara out of her stillness, as she turned wide, anxious eyes on him. "If you wanted to?"

"If *you* wanted me to," Lorne amended, his expression suddenly serious as he studied the face of the blond vampire. "The thing is...I don't choose what I see. It seems to be different every time. I don't always see the future...sometimes I just see...I don't know...something about someone's nature, that isn't just automatically obvious...or maybe some secret they're hiding, even from themselves."

He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if at a loss, before looking at Spike and concluding, "I guess what I'm trying to tell you is...there's no guarantees, Muffin. I can tell you what I see...but I can't guarantee that it'll be your future. And even if I do see your future...I can't guarantee something you do won't change it at some point down the road. You see?"

Spike nodded slowly, thoughtfully, looking away as he considered. As he thought, he sat up slowly, pulling away from Tara a bit as he lowered his hand to grasp hers between them.

"You might be able to tell me...what my chances are of actually coming through this?" he finally asked, his voice low and subdued, and Tara could feel the shame that always filled his voice when he spoke of Buffy and what she had done to him emanating off him with the words. "If...if I'm gonna survive this?"

Lorne frowned, troubled by Spike's words. "Maybe," he conceded quietly. "Maybe not. I could tell you something, I'm sure...but I can't guarantee if it'll be something you'll want to hear."

Spike considered that for a moment, before opening his mouth, apparently to reply.

What came out instead was a sweet, simple and heartbreaking song, unexpected coming from Spike‘s lips, in a deep, rich voice that startled Tara, and stirred something deep within her to life at the sheer, anguished beauty of it.

"*I can't make you love me, if you don't...You can't make your heart feel something it won't...here in the dark, in these lonely hours...I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power...but you won't, no you won't...‘cause I can't make you love me...if you don't...*"

His voice trailed off at the end of the chorus, and he swallowed hard, the sound audible even to the others in the heavy silence that had fallen over the room. He glanced uncertainly at Tara, feeling vulnerable and exposed in the wake of his brief performance, and was dismayed to see that her face was streaked with tears.

Lorne was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he said quietly, "Okay, Muffin. Time for your consultation with your own personal psychic. It can be, um...a private consultation, if you'd like..."

Spike cleared his throat, struggling to bring his emotions back under control, before finally replying in a low, hoarse voice, "Tara's m-my closest friend, mate. Anything you want to tell me...y-you can say in front of Tara..."

"Let me rephrase that," Lorne stated flatly. "You are going to want this to be a private conversation, Spike. Trust me."

Spike frowned, and began to protest, but suddenly stopped when something in the empath's expression made him understand what he was talking about.

"All right." His voice was calm, even, as he shrugged and remarked, "S'pose I'll take your word for it, then." He glanced up at Tara reluctantly, his doubt showing momentarily in his eyes at the thought of sending her away. For the past two days, he had been with her almost constantly, and he felt infinitely safer when she was there. "Can you...just for a few minutes, love?"

"Of course," Tara smiled, her hand rising to his cheek in a reassuring caress, before she rose from the bed and started toward the door. "I'll just go...see if Dawn wants to talk."

Once the door was closed behind her, Spike looked up at Lorne once more, his expression apprehensive. "So what'd you see rattling around in my head, then, mate? What's going to happen?"

"Well, for starters, you're gonna lose the best thing that's ever happened to you if you don't stop doing things like referring to her as your ‘best friend' and singing sappy love songs about another woman," Lorne bluntly informed him.

Spike's eyes widened in a trapped expression, as he shook his head in the beginnings of denial.

"Empath, remember?" Lorne cut him off, tapping his own forehead. "Kinda the point? Also meaning...it's no good denying it. I saw it, Muffin."

"Saw what?" Spike demanded, his voice taking on a sullen edge as he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes averted.

Lorne shook his head. "It's quite a muddle you've got up there, Cupcake. Buffy, Tara, Tara, Buffy...it's all confused...but the answer should be pretty obvious, don't you think?"

" ‘S not obvious at all," Spike muttered.

"No? Let's see...psychopathic, abusive bitch from hell...or sweet, loving, generous, Mother-Theresa-without-the-vow-of-celibacy type? Hmmm. Yeah, I see your point. Tough call."

"You don't understand," Spike ground out through angrily clenched teeth, still without looking at him. "Tara's a..."

"Tara's not sure *what* she is right now, Spike. And do you know who's responsible for that?"

Spike's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lost me there, mate...what...?"

"Never mind," Lorne shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You don't need to know that, anyway. Not yet. But Spike...things aren't always what they seem. The bottom line...and you know this already...is that Tara loves you..." Before Spike could find the words to object, Lorne held up a hand to stop him and went on, "There are all kinds of love, Spike...and trust me, she does. But you need to quit waiting on love that doesn't exist at all...from someone who's not capable of loving...and just accept it."

"Look, this isn't why I asked you to..."

"Yeah, yeah, your future...got it," Lorne sighed. "Just trying to help." He was quiet for a moment before admitting, "As far as your future...I can't really tell you much, except...well, it's up to you, Spike."

"Oh, *that's* helpful."

"It is...if you let it be," Lorne insisted, giving the vampire a pointed look. "It's still up in the air...how it's all gonna turn out. It kind of depends..."

"On what?" Spike snapped, becoming impatient with Lorne's cryptic answers.

When the empath replied, his own tone was every bit as sharp as Spike's.

"On whether or not you choose to just lie back and let her win."

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

A few minutes later, Lorne knocked on the door of the room where he and Dawn had had their previous conversation, where the girl had said she was returning, and was answered with a muffled "Just a minute," from the other side.

A moment later, Tara stepped out the door, closing it behind her. There was a soft, tearful smile on her face as she met his eyes with warmth and affection.

"We're finished in there," Lorne informed her, his flat tone not revealing anything as to how the conversation had gone. "But...I need to talk to *you*, Honey."

"About what?" Tara frowned, letting out a surprised laugh.

Lorne did not smile, as he held her gaze, his red eyes solemn and intent on hers.

"About what I heard in the little song you were singing, right before I knocked on your door."