A Many Splendored Thing

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Archive: If you already have my stuff, if not, just ask.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. If I owned these characters, they'd be happy, and I would be rich.

Summary: What if the bathroom scene in Seeing Red had never happened, and what if Tara hadn't been the one who was shot? Oh, the possibilities. (A sequel of sorts to "Growing Pains.")

Pairing: I don't normally announce this, but I think it's important this time. While Spike and Tara are the only voices for this fic, and there's a strong bond between them, it's ultimately Spuffy.

A/N: manoah asked for Spara, and this is what the muse came up with. Hope you like it, my dear friend.

Part I

Spike took one last drag on his cigarette before throwing it down on the sidewalk and grinding the butt under his boot heel. He patted his pockets, checking to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be before approaching the house.

He'd done his homework; the Watcher was out, and the only one home with the Bit would be the Wicca. Spike had no idea how much longer the man would be in Sunnydale; last he'd heard, there seemed to be some serious discussions going on about what was to be done with Dawn.

A year ago, they'd all pulled together and made it work; this summer, they were busy falling apart.

Of course, with Buffy lying in a hospital bed in a coma, and the doctors offering little hope that she'd ever wake up, there was no way to pretend that all was right in the world. Without the 'Bot, there was no way they could convince the demons of Sunnydale that the Slayer was still active.

Giles was still trying to figure out what they were going to do about the Hellmouth, and Social Services was playing catch-up with Dawn's file and trying to locate her father. Spike had considered whisking her away—considered and discarded the idea. He didn't think that the remaining Scoobies would let him get away with it, and he wasn't sure that Dawn would be amenable to the idea.

He knocked on the back door, waiting for Tara to open it. "Spike," she said, surprise in her tone. "What are you doing here?"

Tara didn't sound as though she was asking because he didn't belong there, but because his visits were infrequent at best. Spike didn't know how the others were going to react to him. Last time he'd seen Buffy, she hadn't been pleased with him in the least, and the others were aware of his one-night-stand with Anya.

Spike wanted to help in whatever way he could, but he didn't know whether the others would accept his help; Tara was the only one who might.

"Came to see you," he offered. "You got a minute?"

Tara offered him a sweet, sad smile. "I have several." She stepped out of his way in a silent invitation to enter.

"Dawn here?" Spike asked, involuntarily glancing up to the second story where her room was located.

"She's out with a friend," Tara said. "I thought it might be good for her to get out of the house for a while."

"Sure," Spike said. "How is she?"

Tara's expression was at once reproving and sympathetic. "Why don't you come by some night and ask her yourself?"

Spike shook his head. "Doubt she'd want to see me. Not after..." He trailed off, not wanting to bring up his night with Anya. "I went by the hospital earlier today," he admitted. "There's been no change."

"I know." Tara swallowed, then pasted a deliberately hopeful smile on her face. "That doesn't mean anything. Giles was telling us the other day that Faith was in a coma for months, and she woke up eventually."

Spike nodded, grateful for her reassurance. "Yeah, sure." He was desperately afraid that Buffy wouldn't want to fight this time, though. That one of these days she would just quietly slip away, back to the peace she'd so desperately wanted. "Heard that you were having some cash-flow trouble."

Tara shook her head. "We're fine," she insisted. "Mr. Giles is working on a solution. He said that he could probably get the Council to pay for Buffy's hospital bills."

"It's not just the medical, though, is it, ducks?" Spike asked gently. "I know Buffy was having trouble keeping the roof over their heads and food on the table." He took her hand in his, pressing his small offering into her palm. "This should help." Spike closed her hand around the money gently.

Tara glanced down at her closed fist, then back up at him. "Spike, I can't take this."

"Sure you can," he replied, backing away towards the door. "And there's more where that came from. You tell the Watcher that if it's money he's worried about, I'll find a way to fix it. Buffy wouldn't take it from me, but it's the least I can do."

"Spike—"

"I promised her," he said earnestly. "It might not seem like I keep my promises, not after... Anyway, I told the Slayer that I'd protect Dawn 'til the end of the world. Far as I know, that hasn't come yet, even though it might feel that way to the rest of us."

Spike didn't give her another opportunity to respond, ducking out the back door, pausing only to pick up the ax he'd hidden in the bushes. He had failed Buffy; Spike could see that now. He'd become so obsessed with getting her to love him, he had forgotten his real purpose.

It was all about keeping her safe, keeping his promise—that was his sole intention right now. Spike wasn't going to fail again.

~~~~~

Tara looked at the money thoughtfully, tucking it into a kitchen drawer. Spike had been like a ghost the last month, ever since Buffy and Willow had been shot. Willow had died immediately, but Buffy...

A month in a coma, and still no change.

Giles kept saying that Buffy could still recover, but Tara could sense the encroaching hopelessness. They all wanted to believe that the Slayer would be okay, but no one actually did. Perhaps they had bankrupted hope this last year; Buffy had been resurrected once before, and there was no chance that it would happen again.

Sometimes Tara had to wonder if it would have been better if the bullet had killed Buffy right away. She never would have said it out loud, but this half-life was hurting them all, and it was making it impossible to move forward.

No one knew what to do with Dawn. Social Services was content to let Mr. Giles take responsibility for her during the summer, although that was mostly nominal since Tara was the one who was living there full-time. Once school started, however, all bets were off.

To be honest, they were all hoping that Buffy woke up by then. If she didn't, Dawn would most likely have to go live with her father—who was proving very difficult to track down. Dawn had informed Tara that she had an aunt who lived in the Midwest, and Tara was hoping that the social worker would place Dawn with them rather than with complete strangers, even if it meant that she had to move.

The Hellmouth had been left without a protector, and without the Buffy-Bot, there was no pretending otherwise. Although, Giles had mentioned the last time she'd seen him that there didn't seem to be more demon activity than usual—certainly there hadn't been the increase in deaths that he had expected.

After seeing Spike tonight, Tara had her own suspicions as to why that might be.

The phone rang, and she picked up the receiver immediately. "Hello?"

"Tara?" Dawn's tearful voice greeted her, and Tara bit back a sigh.

"What's wrong, Dawn?"

"Could you come get me?"

It was the fear in her voice that made her heart skip a beat. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the Fishbowl."

Tara felt the blood drain out of her face, partly out of fear, partly out of anger. "I want you to go into the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall, do you hear me?" Tara said, her tone sharp. "I'm coming to get you."

She hung up as soon as Dawn promised, wondering how the hell she was going to extricate the girl. The Fishbowl was in one of the worst areas of town, where people often disappeared, probably due to vampire activity. None of them went down there; not even Buffy had patrolled that area regularly.

Tara had a few tricks up her sleeves, but she wasn't all-powerful, and she wasn't the kind of badass with spells that Willow had been.

Willow.

That thought alone was enough to send her reeling until she deliberately put a lid on her grief, knowing that her first priority had to be Dawn. There was no time for falling apart.

She tried calling Giles first, but the phone was busy, and she didn't have time to go the shop before walking down to the Fishbowl. Xander was next on her list, but he wasn't answering. Tara feared that he was probably out drinking with friends from work; he had been doing that a lot lately.

There was no one else, so she grabbed her keys and a protection amulet, hoping that she would be able to get Dawn to safety.

The orange point of light floating under the tree in the front yard was a relief, and Tara called out to the vampire she was sure was there. "Spike?"

"Hey, pet." He stepped out from behind the thick trunk, giving her a rueful smile. "Old habits die hard."

"I need your help," she said without preamble. "Dawn's at the Fishbowl."

Spike's face darkened. "What the sodding hell is she doing there?"

"I have no idea," Tara said sharply, "but I need you to come with me."

He scowled, and gave the ax propped up against the tree a longing look. "Probably better leave that here, I guess. Let's go, then. Fat lot of help I'll be, though. Most of the scum around that area are human."

Tara winced, not having thought about the chip. "You can look scary," she pointed out encouragingly. "Scarier than me. I think I can take care of the humans, anyway, if you'll get the demons."

They walked in companionable silence, Tara edging closer to the vampire as they hit the less salubrious part of town. "Keep close, pet," Spike muttered under his breath. "And act like you're not scared. It might help."

Tara tilted her chin up, watching as Spike gave two toughs a hard look when they appeared a little too interested in them. Although she didn't think of him as scary anymore, Tara could see where the reputation came from. Spike wore his attitude the way he wore his duster; you didn't want to mess with him because he walked like a man who would always win the fight. He made you believe that he would rip your head off and not look back.

She paused when Spike ducked down an alley before they reached the front door of the Fishbowl, and he motioned her to follow him. "There's a back way," he said shortly.

Tara wove her way through the piles of trash to the back door of the club. Spike tried the door, and when he found it locked, put his shoulder to the door and pushed it open with his considerable strength. Spike held the door for her as she slipped inside, letting it close soundlessly behind him.

"No alarm?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Wouldn't be set until after last call. They lock it to prevent people from skipping the bouncer out front. You know where Dawn's at?"

"I told her to lock herself in the bathroom," Tara replied. "Where—"

Spike pointed down the darkened hallway. "Second door on the right there. I'll wait outside for you."

Tara felt a lot safer with Spike at her back than she would have if she'd had to come to the club alone. She pushed the door of the club open, finding a dimly lit bathroom with two stalls, obscene graffiti scrawled all over the walls. "Dawn?"

"Tara!" Dawn came out of one of the stalls, a look of relief on her face. "You came."

"Of course, I did." Tara gave silent thanks for the cell phone that she had insisted they get her. It was supposed to be for emergency purposes only, but with Buffy out of commission, and Dawn prone to getting herself into trouble, it had seemed like a smart thing to do. "Let's get out of here. You can explain when we get home."

To Tara's surprise, Spike didn't say anything when they exited the bathroom, although Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "Spike? What are you—"

"Not now," Tara said, hustling the girl along. She didn't want to waste any time, fearing what might happen if someone decided that they made too tempting a target to pass up. If that someone was human, Tara couldn't afford to be distracted, with Spike unable to help.

Thankfully, anyone who might have considered jumping the group was put off by Spike and his large ax, and they managed to make it back to Revello Drive without incident.

"I should get going," Spike said. "Patrol."

Tara had suspected that he was patrolling in Buffy's stead. "Come by tomorrow night, Spike," she invited.

Their eyes met, and she could see that he understood what she was trying to communicate—that she would fill him in on what Dawn had been doing, among other things.

Without Buffy, they needed Spike; no one else might want to admit it, but on occasions like this, the vampire was the only possible choice.

And Dawn hadn't pulled stunts like this last summer, when Spike was the one watching her all the time. It might be time to request his services as a babysitter again.

He gave her a brief nod and then disappeared into the night.

Tara looked at the girl. "You want to tell me what you were doing?" she demanded. "I thought you were going to be with Janice."

"I was with Janice!" Dawn protested. "I thought we were going to the Bronze, but then she ran into one of her friends who graduated last year, and he said we should go to the Fishbowl because the Bronze was a kiddie club."

Tara sighed, unlocking the door and letting Dawn precede her inside. "So you decided to go?"

"I didn't want to look like a scaredy-cat," Dawn muttered. "But once we got there, this guy kept trying to buy me a drink, and he was really freaky looking, and Janice was dancing with her friend. I tried to get her to leave, but she was ignoring me, and..."

Tara said a silent prayer for patience, reminding herself that Dawn had been through quite a bit in the last year and a half, and that the teenager wasn't doing anything worse than she herself had after her mother had died. "I'm sorry, Dawn," Tara said in an even tone. "But I'm going to have to insist that you not see Janice from now on. If you guys want to hang out here, or while you're at school, that's fine, but you're not going out with her."

Dawn's half-sullen, half-relieved, "Fine," was a lot less explosive than Tara had expected.

"Why don't you get ready for bed?" Tara suggested in a tone that let Dawn know it was more of an order.

Dawn started heading up the stairs, her short skirt barely coming to her mid-thigh, and her midriff-baring top a lot skimpier than Tara remembered. She had a feeling that Dawn had made some wardrobe adjustments after she'd left for the evening.

Halfway up, she stopped and turned, and Tara could see the troubled expression on the girl's face. "What was Spike doing there tonight?"

"He came by to drop something off," Tara explained. "He was here when you called."

"I didn't think he was going to come around anymore," Dawn said uncertainly.

Tara glanced over her shoulder towards the front door involuntarily. "I don't think he ever left," she said. "It's just that we didn't see him."

~~~~~

Spike moved through the halls of the hospital, careful not to be seen. It was long past visiting hours, and he didn't want the questions that would come if someone saw him. Buffy was in a semi-private room at the end of a hallway, and he stepped inside, noting that the other bed was still empty. He wondered what he'd do if they found someone to fill it, since he wouldn't be able to risk disturbing another patient.

The Slayer looked small against the white sheets; Spike was thankful that she wasn't on a ventilator at least. From what Spike had been able to gather, it wasn't so much the physical damage that prevented Buffy from waking, since that was mostly healed; it was the fact that she'd died on the operating table twice before they'd been able to stabilize her. There was no telling how much brain damage she'd sustained during that period of time.

It was possible that she might never wake up, and he hated that thought.

Spike wondered if anyone else knew about his visits to Buffy's bedside. He didn't think so, since he'd tried to be stealthy about it, and no one had said anything to him. There was no way he was going to risk being forbidden from returning.

"H'lo, Buffy," he murmured, taking her chilled hand in his. Spike wished he had body heat to offer her, but there was nothing he could do to warm her skin. "Got quite a few demons tonight. There are plenty of them out there, but I've been pulling double duty, making sure they know not to move in.

"Saw Dawn tonight, too. Tara asked me to go with her, since Dawn had managed to get herself into a spot of trouble. Nothing serious, mind, and we pulled her out right quick, but I guess it was good I was there. Tara said she wanted me to come by tomorrow, and I suppose I'll show. I know I promised to protect the Bit, and I'm trying, luv, I really am."

He took a deep, unnecessary breath. "Wish I had done better by you, Buffy. Maybe you wouldn't be here now."

That was always how he ended his one-sided conversations; some nights he talked longer, telling her the details of what was going on with the Scoobies, at least the little he knew. Other nights, it was even briefer than that, just stopping in to see her, to tell her that he was still patrolling, and that he was sorry.

Spike headed back to his crypt after that, the taste of failure thick in his mouth. Even though Buffy had been shot in broad daylight, in her own backyard, he still felt as though he might have prevented it.

How was another matter entirely.

Slumping in his ratty old recliner, Spike gave thought once again to finding a new place; the downstairs was uninhabitable, his bed destroyed. There was nothing left of the cozy little hideaway he'd created, and Spike thought longingly of the big bed.

More longingly still of the hours he'd spent with Buffy. As full of pain as those hours had been, knowing that he didn't really have her, not in any way that counted, Spike had still loved the fantasy. There had been moments that he could pretend that she was truly his.

Spike closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

~~~~~

"It's been strange, you know," Buffy said, as though confessing her deepest secret. "I've actually kind of missed you."

Spike snorted indelicately. "Pull the other one, Slayer."

"I'm being serious," she protested. "You're a pain in the ass, but you grow on a person. Like fungus."

He gave her a sour look, although inside he felt a thrill. She had missed him, at least a little bit. That had to mean something. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Spike asked. Even though they were lying on the grass beneath a summer sky, he didn't think it odd; he was dreaming, after all. In dreams, anything was possible, including surviving a sunny day or having Buffy confess that she'd missed him.

"No, it's supposed to make sure you keep coming around," Buffy replied. "How am I supposed to know what's going on without you telling me? No one else talks to me anymore."

"Luv, you're lying in a bloody hospital bed."

"You still talk to me."

"Yeah, but everyone expects me to pull crazy stunts." Spike was surprised when she put a hand on his chest, dream or no dream. He could feel the warmth from her skin radiating through the thin jersey of his t-shirt. "What is it?"

"Don't stop coming." Buffy gave him a half-smile. "I don't think I could find my way back without your voice."

"I—"

"Spike!"

Buffy was fading before his eyes, and he couldn't tell who was calling his name with such urgency.

"Spike!"

His eyes blinked open, and he found Dawn standing before him. "Bit?"

"Geez, what's wrong with you?" she asked, her tone acidic. "It took me forever to wake you up."

"I was dreaming," Spike replied.

Dawn gave him a skeptical look. "That must have been some dream."

Spike shook his head, trying to clear it. "It was something, alright. What are you doing here?"

She glanced away, suddenly wary of him. "I was in the neighborhood."

Letting out a humorless laugh, Spike gave her a disbelieving look, levering himself out of the chair and heading to his mini-fridge for the blood he had stashed there. "Tell the truth now, Dawn."

"Why did you show up last night?" she demanded, her voice holding a mixture of emotions Spike couldn't quite untangle. "I haven't seen you since—"

She stopped, but Spike could finish the sentence easily. He hadn't seen her since the night she'd confronted him after he'd slept with Anya.

Well, other than the previous night's rescue mission with Tara.

Spike decided to give her the only answer he could offer: the truth. "Heard that you all were struggling to find enough dosh, and I thought I could help out."

"So you didn't come by to see me?" Dawn asked, and Spike finally heard the desperation and despair in her voice.

Spike sighed. "I would have if you hadn't been out trying to get yourself killed."

To Dawn's credit, she colored a bit. "I thought we were going to the Bronze!"

"Then that's where you should have gone," Spike shot back. "You know better than to put yourself in that sort of danger. You ever think about what it would do to the rest of us if—"

He cut himself off, not wanting to go there with her, not wanting to explain that losing Dawn could very well be the final straw.

They had lost so much already.

"I'm sorry." The whispered words were sincere enough to defuse some of his anger.

"Just don't do it again, yeah?" Spike said. "So what are you doing here?"

Dawn shrugged. "I wanted to see you. What's wrong with that?"

Spike blinked, touched, in spite of himself. How long had it been since someone had wanted to see him, merely for the pleasure of his company? It felt like forever. "Yeah, well, there's not much to do around here."

She shuffled her feet, obviously wanting to stay but not knowing how to say it or what to do to convince him that she ought to be there.

In a last ditch effort to get rid of her—although Spike didn't really want her to go, he just thought that would probably be what Buffy would want—he asked, "Don't you have a friend to hang out with?"

"Not after last night," Dawn replied bitterly, and Spike was lost.

"I'll get out a deck of cards."

~~~~~

Tara could see the new lines on Giles' face, the encroaching gray; the last few years had noticeably aged him, with the last few months producing the greatest change. He was so tired—but then, so were they all.

"Spike brought you money?" he was asking, his tone sharp with surprise.

She nodded. "It's enough for the mortgage this month and groceries. It'll give you a little more time to get things ironed out."

Giles let out a puff of air, as though someone had just gut-punched him. "Did he tell you where it came from?"

With a raised eyebrow to remind Giles that beggars couldn't be choosers, she asked, "Does it matter?"

The Watcher leaned back in the kitchen chair and shook his head reluctantly. "No, I suppose it doesn't." He gave her a sharp look. "How are you holding up?"

"It helps to stay busy," Tara admitted, his words calling forth the grief once again. They were swimming against the current, the two of them, fighting grief and the overwhelming knowledge that this was one battle they weren't likely to win.

He nodded, immediately understanding. "I have to say that I've probably been remiss in not asking Spike for his assistance," Giles admitted.

Taking pity on the man, Tara asked, "Would you like me to talk to him?"

"Since you seem to have developed a rapport with him, that would be appreciated," Giles replied, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry to put one more thing on your shoulders, Tara. That wasn't—this was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but..."

"Do you have anymore news from the social workers or Dawn's father?" Tara asked.

Giles hesitated, and then he pulled off his glasses in a familiar gesture. "Dawn's father sent me a check and a letter saying that he was going to authorize me as guardian for both Dawn and Buffy for the immediate future. He said that his business obligations wouldn't let him return to the States just yet."

Tara's eyes went wide. "Did he do it?"

Giles nodded. "The social worker assigned to the case phoned yesterday. They aren't terribly pleased with the solution, considering my position as an unmarried, older man with his official residence in England, but they were at least willing to consider it."

Tara couldn't help feeling vaguely relieved. If Giles was going to be Dawn's guardian, that meant she wouldn't be sent to strangers, which would do nothing for her stability or state of mind. Furthermore, it would mean that Tara would continue to have another adult to lean on; she was starting to understand why Buffy had been so depressed and self-destructive.

Tara wasn't even the Slayer, and the weight of her responsibilities still weighed heavily.

"That means you're not returning to England?"

"I'm afraid that I'll have to occasionally, at least for short trips," Giles said. "But I will be coming back. I'll plead Buffy's case to the Council myself; they will pay Buffy's medical expenses, which should improve matters considerably."

Tara nodded. It was the medical expenses that were of most concern right now. Every day that Buffy was in the hospital, the bill grew more crushing, but with that taken care of, they would have enough money to take care of the other daily things.

And if Giles were Dawn's guardian, Tara wouldn't have to feel guilty about asking him for money.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Giles eyes widened. "My dear girl, you didn't think I was going to abandon you, did you? While I realize that my last departure for England did not give you much confidence in me, I'm not going to leave again. At least, not until I know that things are settled one way or another."

It had been a concern, but Tara merely nodded. "Thank you," she repeated. "I'm sure Dawn will be glad to know that you're sticking around."

"Where is Dawn?" Giles asked.

Tara looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then she shrugged, saying, "She wanted to go see Spike. After last night—"

"What about last night?" Giles asked sharply.

Tara winced, realizing that while she'd informed Giles about Spike giving her money, she'd said nothing about Dawn's antics. "She was in an area of town she wasn't supposed to be in, and Spike helped me get her home," Tara said firmly. "I've already grounded her from going out with friends for the next week, but I thought she would be safe enough with Spike."

The ex-Watcher shook his head, uncomfortable with the idea, and yet unable to argue. "What is your opinion of Spike?" he asked, the last months having given him a new respect for Tara's opinion and sensitivity to those around her. Even Spike.

"I think he's trying very hard," Tara said. "Just like we all are."

Giles nodded, apparently satisfied with her response. "Very well. You know the both of them better than I do." He rose, giving her an encouraging smile, the Giles-version of a hug. "I'll let you know my travel plans as soon as I have them finalized."

"Okay." Tara watched him leave, putting her head in her hands for a brief moment as soon as he was gone. It was in the moments like this when the grief threatened to overcome her fragile defenses. She and Willow had been trying to make it work, had been so close to doing so; Willow had been the first woman she had ever loved, and now she was gone.

In a way, it was probably easier for her to deal with Willow's death rather than the other way around, however. Tara knew that Willow likely wouldn't have taken "no" for an answer; the other girl had a difficult time accepting death as part of the natural order of things. Tara couldn't help but regret her part in Buffy's resurrection spell, knowing that if she'd stood her ground, Willow wouldn't have been able to perform the raising.

Tara had known better, but she'd allowed herself to be convinced that Buffy needed rescuing because everyone had been hurting so—including herself.

Perhaps if she'd said no, if she hadn't participated, this would never have happened. Or maybe something worse would have happened. Tara didn't believe in accidents, even on a cosmic level, and she had to believe that there was a purpose to all of this.

It was believe or go insane.

She busied herself with various household chores; Tara had a job in the library at school for the summer, but it was her day off. She focused on the summer class that would be starting soon, thinking that with Spike coming around again, she could probably ask him to keep an eye on Dawn. She might have asked Xander, but he had made himself scarce.

He, like the rest of them, was wrestling with a grief so profound there didn't seem to be an end in sight, and the summer months were a time when the construction business really took off. It was probably no wonder that Xander had buried himself in work, and Tara couldn't say that she blamed him. It was at least a little healthier than drinking himself into a stupor.

On the other hand, it left Dawn feeling as though one more person had abandoned her, and it left Tara with one less source of support. Perhaps when the loss wasn't so new, or so raw, Xander would make himself available again.

As it neared six o'clock, Tara decided to go looking for Dawn. As late as the sun went down in the summer, it could easily be nine or ten before the girl made it home if she waited until Spike could accompany her.

Assuming that Dawn was still with Spike.

Tara knocked on the door of his crypt before entering, not wanting to go in without giving him some warning. It seemed impolite to do otherwise, particularly after Spike had just given her money to help out.

She found him alone, sitting in his recliner. "Hey, Spike. Have you seen Dawn?"

He glanced up. "Yeah, she left about a half an hour ago saying that she was going to go visit Buffy. I offered to go with her, but she said it was something she had to do by herself."

Tara gave a sigh of relief. "Good. She said she was going to visit you, but after last night, I wasn't sure..." She gave him a rueful look. "I thought about forbidding her from leaving the house, but both Dawn and I know that I don't really have any way of enforcing that sort of thing."

"If you told her not to go out, I imagine she'd listen," Spike said. "She respects you."

Tara couldn't help but shake her head. "Then what was last night?"

"Last night was the Bit trying not to lose the few friends she's got," Spike replied. "She's lost too much already to know when she can get away with saying no to that lot."

It made sense to Tara, and was something she hadn't even thought about; the fact that Spike had grasped that subtlety was a little surprising, although she supposed it shouldn't be. He had always been observant. "Do you think she'll try something like that again?"

Spike shrugged. "Depends on the circumstances, I imagine." He gave her a sharp look. "Didn't ask you last night, but how are you doing?" Coming from Giles, the question had been expected, and the wave of grief easily stifled. Coming from Spike, it caught her by surprise.

Tara could feel the tears welling in her eyes before she could control her reaction, and she turned away, trying to compose herself. To her surprise, she felt Spike put a tentative hand on her shoulder, patting awkwardly.

The uncomfortable sympathy undid her, and Tara could no longer fight back the sobs. Needing the comfort, and with Spike the only one available, she rested her forehead on the soft, well-worn fabric of his t-shirt.

She could feel him stiffen under the contact before his arms came around her shoulders, holding her carefully. When she the tears finally ceased, Tara pulled back, swiping at her wet face impatiently. "I'm sorry," she hiccupped. "I didn't mean to cry on your shoulder."

"Wasn't so bad," he replied, almost shyly. "Long as it helped."

Oddly enough, it had. Tara's load felt a little lighter now, and she began to understand why Buffy went to the vampire after she came back from the grave. Spike had a comforting presence at times. "It did. Thank you, Spike."

She could have sworn he nearly blushed, staring down at the tops of his boots and scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "Yeah, well, anytime."

Tara remembered the other reason she'd come to see him, besides looking for Dawn. "Giles wanted me to ask you if you'd mind patrolling for Buffy," she said. "He would have asked you himself, but—"

"He hates my guts?" Spike guessed with a self-deprecating smile. "You're the only one that doesn't."

Tara shook her head. "He doesn't hate you, Spike. He just—doesn't like you very much," she finished, shooting him an apologetic look.

Their eyes met, and they both smiled tentatively at the same time. "I've been patrolling, but I'll do anything I can to help," Spike said. "Just name it."

Tara nodded. "Thank you, Spike. You know, if you want to come by the house, you're always welcome."

"'preciate that, pet," Spike said. "Maybe I'll be by later tonight. Let you know how patrol went."

"You do that," Tara said, and her burden lightened just a little bit more.