"You need to go."

The abrupt words from the blond vampire - coming only moments after he had allowed himself to fall apart in her arms - took Tara completely by surprise. She blinked up at him in confusion and concern as he scrambled out of her embrace and to his feet, glancing anxiously toward the closed door even as he backed away from where she still sat on the floor.

"Spike - what's the matter?" she asked him cautiously, as she rose to her feet without taking her eyes from his fearful face. "I mean - if you want me to go, I will, but - why?"

"If she comes back," Spike explained, not quite meeting her eyes before glancing at the door again, "and you're here - it'd be very bad, love. Very bad for both of us. You - you need to go, in case she decides to come back."

Tara's eyes widened in an indignant, incredulous look, as she dismissed the words with a wave of her hand. "She's not gonna touch me, Spike. I mean, she might *think* she is, but there's no way in the world..."

"Tara," Spike cut her off softly - and the urgency in his quiet voice drew her to silence. "Please." He tried a weak smile, as he added, "I'm - I'm fine now, love. Feeling a lot better - and she's gone. I'll be fine."

She stared at him for a long moment, myriad emotions circling through her heart as she watched him swallow back his own fear in a valiant - if unsuccessful - attempt to make her believe that he would be all right on his own.

There was fear, that if the Slayer *did* decide to come back tonight, if she was not there, Spike might give in to her persuasion and allow her inside, breaking the protective spell that Tara had placed over his crypt.

There was also anger, at the thought of what the Slayer had done, would do if she got the chance -- and also at the fact that Spike might choose to *give* her that chance.

But surpassing it all was an aching sorrow and compassion, an affectionate concern that she had felt for the blond vampire since the first moment when she had begun to suspect that perhaps his present had some painful commonalities with her abusive past.

"Spike -- please listen to me," she tried gently, a part of herself already resigned to the fact that he was probably going to persist in asking her to leave.

And if he did -- she would go. Because he had the *right* to tell her to go; he had the right to privacy in his own home.

And the last thing he needed was another abuser disregarding his rights.

"I'm sorry," she went on softly, with apologetic honesty, "but I really don't think you need to be alone right now..."

"Love, you don't understand!" Spike insisted, his voice trembling slightly as he moved in closer to her, but still did not meet her eyes. "You don't know how - how angry she can get when I - when she thinks..."

"Okay," Tara broke in soothingly when he seemed on the verge of losing control again. "Okay, Spike, I get it. But - okay - so what if she's waiting out there, about to try again to get you to let her in - and I take off right now? What if she sees me coming out of your crypt - couldn't that be just as bad?"

Spike's eyes widened with realization at her words, as he stared dubiously at the closed crypt door.

"Bugger."

Tara suppressed a smile, aware that her logic had just won her the battle.

Still, she hesitated just a moment before cautiously suggesting, "I guess I could - stay here tonight. Go home in the morning, when she's either home in bed, or at work. She can't get in here - if we go downstairs, she'll never even know I was here."

Spike looked surprised by her offer, and uncertain as to whether or not to accept it - but also just a little bit relieved, even as he voiced a token protest. "I couldn't ask you to do that, love. I know you'd much rather spend the night in your own bed..."

"You didn't ask me. I offered," Tara pointed out firmly, moving toward him and taking his trembling hands in hers, pulling them down between them as she sought his averted gaze, and added softly, "And I know - you don't really want to be alone tonight - do you?"

Spike did not look at her - but he shook his head slightly, swallowing back a sob, before he whispered his defeated response, "No."

Tara nodded knowingly, a slow smile creeping across her face. "I brought movies," she informed him in a teasingly enticing voice - and her insistent efforts were finally rewarded with a soft, shaky laugh, as Spike finally met her eyes with amused affection, and a sort of awe, at the simple but thoughtful gesture.

"Did you," he replied, his tone noncommittal, but his eyes revealing his gratitude.

"I did. Of course - I underestimated that healing spell a little," Tara admitted with a modest shrug. "I thought you'd still be laid up in the bed with nothing to do, so I thought you might like some entertainment. Didn't think we'd *both* be holding our own little lock-in and watching them together - but I could do with a movie night."

She frowned thoughtfully then, as she asked, "You *do* have a VCR, don't you?"

"Yeah," Spike nodded, still subdued and a little unsure, but seeming much calmer now than he had been a few minutes earlier. He glanced uneasily toward the door again before nodding toward the ladder. "Let's go on down; I'd really rather we weren't around if she kicks that door in again."

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

When they reached the lower level, Spike immediately disappeared into his little make-shift bathroom, leaving Tara alone in his bedroom. She had a feeling that he might be a few minutes, needing the space to gather his composure - and his pride - before facing her again.

While she waited, she busied herself with stripping the bed, leaving the dirty bedding, stained with blood and other substances that she didn't want to think too hard about, in a pile near the ladder. Then, she opened a laundry bag that she had left beside the bed when she had been down here before, changing Spike's bandages; and took from it a full set of clean, brand new sheets and a coverlet, with which she quickly and carefully made Spike's bed.

He stopped short when he stepped out of the bathroom, blinking in surprise at the bed.

"You like?" Tara asked with a bright smile, which was still a little shy. "I thought - black was probably a little - um - stereotypical - but - there wasn't much else to choose from, between the - various floral patterns, and the - assorted shades of pink."

Spike thought for a moment that he had left the bathroom too soon, as an inexplicable wave of emotion came over him, catching in his throat and making answering her impossible for the moment.

*Get it together, mate,* he ordered himself with derision. *It's a set of bloody sheets - it's not that big a thing...nothing to get all bloody choked up over...*

But the fact of the matter was - even such a small thing, was a big thing to Spike.

He couldn't remember receiving as many small acts of kindness from anyone in the past three years, as he had received from Tara in the past two days.

With an effort he blinked back fresh tears, and brought a warm smile to his face as he moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. " 'Not pink' will do just fine, love," he replied lightly, and then added in a more serious, sincere tone, "Thank you. I don't know why - I mean - you didn't have to do this."

Tara dismissed his praise with a shy tuck of her head and a wave of her hand. "It's nothing, Spike. It's just bedsheets."

"Right," Spike echoed softly, as he leaned back against the pillows she had stacked against the headboard. "Just bedsheets."

"So what movie do you wanna watch?" Tara asked, a bit too brightly as she changed the subject.

Before long, they were both settled comfortably on the bed, Spike seated at the top with his back against the headboard, and Tara lying on her stomach with her bare feet toward the head of the bed. The first installment of *Lord of the Rings* was playing, and they were both silent - but neither was really paying attention to the movie, each lost in their own troubled thoughts.

Tara was fighting a battle within herself, struggling to keep her rising anger with the Slayer at bay. All her life, she had dealt with the ghosts of her past, and the abuse she had endured, and had struggled with the inner voices of her father, her brothers, insisting that what she had experienced had been her own fault - because she was weird, bad, *evil*.

And now - partially through Spike's impossibly expressive nature, and possibly through the signs she had picked up within his aura - she saw this same thing happening in Spike...his own inner voices, telling him that the beatings, the intimidation and shameful manipulation that had been forced upon him, were only his due. After all, he was only a vampire - an evil, soulless thing with no real rights of his own.

The only difference was, Spike's inner voice was that of the Slayer - the supposed bastion of justice and good.

And while Tara fought to convince herself that her own voices were lying - the thought of Spike's believing his so completely birthed a righteous rage within her, and she determined to make him see that he deserved so much more than what Buffy had been giving him.

As if he had somehow heard her thoughts, Spike spoke up softly, his words unexpected in the near-stillness of the room, the quiet soundtrack to the film they were watching, a mere backdrop to them.

"She wasn't always like this, you know. Didn't always - treat me this way."

Tara was silent for a moment, and Spike began to wonder if she had even heard him. He wasn't even sure why he had said it; he just somehow felt the need to try to make her understand that Buffy was not just some heartless monster - not just a cruel abuser with no regard for anyone but herself. The loss of her Mum - coming back from the dead - life and death had *done something* to his Slayer...and he had to try to make Tara see that.

When she finally did respond, the sarcasm in her words caught him off guard.

"Yeah, right. 'Cause up until recently - she's been nothing but gentleness and light."

Spike was struck speechless for a moment, staring at the back of her head incredulously; and Tara slowly rolled over on her side to face him, her soft gray eyes sharp and piercing with their knowledge.

"She wasn't!" Spike insisted finally, defensively. "She didn't get like this until - well, until after we started..."

"Sleeping together?" Tara finished for him matter-of-factly. "So - you guys have been sleeping together for, what? As long as I've known you?"

"What? No!" Spike seemed increasingly disconcerted by her words, sitting up straighter on the bed and meeting her eyes. "When you met us, I hated her!" When she just stared at him knowingly - waiting - he sighed and amended, "Well, at least I bloody well thought I hated her! And she *didn't* act like this...not back then..."

"Oh, no," Tara replied in mock agreement. "She never...hit you...or knocked you down...she was nothing but kind and generous all the time - right?"

Spike was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing in restrained anger. "I was her bloody mortal enemy," he bit off the words with very little patience in his voice.

"Yeah - who couldn't fight back."

"Look," Spike exploded in defensive irritation, his crystal blue eyes flashing with angry tears as he insisted, "she's changed! All the bloody crap that's happened to her these past couple years - it's done things to her! Changed her! You think she *wanted* to be this way? You think it was her choice? She didn't mean for it to happen! It wasn't supposed to - to happen like this..."

The way his voice broke over the last few words, and trailed off as his tears began to get control again, struck Tara's heart with sorrowful compassion, and she rose up on the bed, drawing closer to Spike and gently reaching out a hand to rest tentatively on his arm.

She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him - but was not sure if he would allow it.

The simple, tender touch seemed to be more than he could take. His brittle, defensive reserve crumbled, and his shoulders sagged toward her, his head bowed, as he whispered an echo of his previous words, "I didn't think it was going to be like this."

Tara took his reaction as the invitation it was, and moved in closer to embrace him, drawing his head down to her shoulder gently. "I know," she whispered, her tone encouraging him to go on.

"I thought - when she kissed me - I thought my bloody dreams were coming true," Spike said softly. "I thought - even if she didn't *love* me -not yet - that she would. But - but then - she was so angry - so *ashamed* to have even touched me..."

His voice trailed off again, and he shook his head, as Tara felt the cool moisture of his tears soak through the thin material of her blouse.

"She *should* be ashamed!" she retorted, her voice trembling with anger as she gently tightened her arms around him. "She should be ashamed of what she's done to you! Not for kissing you - but for making you feel this way - for hurting you this much! Spike, you *don't* deserve this! Can you see that?" She gently reached a hand down to raise his face from her shoulder, as she drew back slightly to meet his eyes. "You know that, right? You *don't* deserve this!"

Tears streamed from the vampire's eyes, as his telling gaze, and the way he lowered his eyes in shame after only an instant, revealed the answer to her questions.

"I try, Tara," he confessed softly, earnestly, his voice halting as his tears began to choke it. "I really try - to make her happy. To please her. I do. I just - don't understand why she - why it's never...I can never make her happy..."

"Spike," Tara persisted after a moment's consideration, running a soothing hand through his hair. "Look at me."

When he reluctantly complied, she asked him in a low, searching voice, her piercing gaze boring into his, "What would make *you* happy?"

Spike stared at her, momentarily bewildered, by a question that he had had little cause to consider in the past few months. He lowered his gaze, but in pensive thought this time, rather than shame, as he tried to think of the answer.

It did not take long to think of it - but the words did not seem to want to come out.

"I - I want her to - I mean - I want to - just to have *someone*..."

Tara tipped his chin up toward her again, meeting his eyes with a depth of warmth and kindness in her eyes that broke the last of his emotional control, as she whispered, "...to love you?"

Spike's eyes widened in longing agreement, as he nodded slowly, lowering his eyes again.

Tara was quiet for a moment, putting her arms back around him and holding him close to her. "You deserve that, Spike," she whispered. "You really do - you have to see that. You deserve to be loved by someone...loved like *you* love, completely - passionately..." She paused, before concluding sadly, "...I'm just not sure if she can."