When She Was Wrong
J. Travis

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX TV, UPN, and anyone else I can't think of owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all it's trademarks. I'll put the dolls away and turn off the lights when done.

Note: Thanks go to Linne for her patience and editing abilities-she's one awesome beta reader. Since this is an AU fic, when I'm meandering through some of Spike's memories, I make no mention that he turned his mother because it didn't happen in this little world.
 
 

"What is it?"  Willow asked Buffy when the door slammed shut.

    The Slayer surveyed the witch, "Do you know where Spike is?"

    "You didn't find him," Willow said, "Sorry, Buff, I know you wanted to talk to the jerk."

    "I found him.  It's where I found him that might interest you, Willow," Buffy informed her friend, "he's with Tara.  In her apartment.  You'll never believe who else is back in town-Ethan Rayne.  He was standing outside Tara's.  Don't laugh.  He was with Harmony."

    Anger simmered under the cool facade Willow presented, "Really?  Well, here's something that you might find interesting.  Someone broke into the house tonight.  Someone who's planning a spell.  Wanna bet it's Ethan?"

    "Let's call Giles," Buffy said, her voice of reason finally breaking through, "he'll want to know, Will."

    "NO!  We take care of this ourselves," Willow's eyes flashed, and the rage rolling off the red head called to the Slayer's worst instincts.

    From the stairs, Dawn hid and listened to the conversation which was about to take a turn for the psychotic.  She'd already known Willow remembered life pre-Dawn, but her worst fears were vocalized a moment after Willow's admission to Buffy.

    "Same here, is the monk's spell breaking apart?  Where is Dawn anyway?"  Buffy's voice sounded irritated to the eavesdropping teen.

    "Sleeping, and I don't have an answer-yet.  Don't worry, I will."

    Buffy laughed, "I'm not really worried anymore, Willow."

    "Buffy, what if I needed Dawn?"  Willow rushed ahead, "For a spell, and I promise not to hurt her."

    "Do what you want," the cold voice of the Slayer responded.

    Terror gripped Dawn.  Buffy didn't sound like Buffy anymore.  The teenager's heart raced, and her fingers numbed.  Willow had spent most of the evening casting spells, chanting, and searching her computer after she sent Dawn off to bed.  Not that the teenager eavesdropped on purpose at first.  It was just hard to miss, and the girl had an urge to make a break for Tara's place as quickly as possible.  Buffy always complained that her birthdays sucked, and it looked like this year wasn't going to be an exception.

    Slow to wake, Tara stretched to loosen her limbs a bit before turning to face Spike.  He was awake and smirking at her, "Morning, pigeon, rest well?"

    "Yes, thanks....  Did you even sleep?"

    "Not a bit," was the reply, "s'okay, not like I need the rest.  Tell me 'bout the dream, Tara, must've been pretty bad for you to be needing the likes of me in your bed."

    This wasn't how she wanted to start the morning, but she'd rather get it over with than face persistent, belligerent Spike this early in the day.  As she spoke, Spike withdrew into himself.  His eyes and features clouded over, and he took on that cocky attitude she'd seen through Buffy's eyes.  "You told her she made you feel like a man, but you'll never be anything but a monster...," she murmured, and Spike's eyes flashed angrily.

    "Right then, Tara," Spike snapped, "guess I'll be packing up and toddling off to the old lair of the beast again.  It's been right good and all, pet--"

    "STOP!  You weren't listening to me," Tara insisted, "You said you were just a monster, and I felt Buffy agree.  Just because Buffy believed that doesn't mean I do, Spike.  We're two different people.  Are you a monster?  Well, yeah.... But you're not just a monster.  You've always been more than that," she continued and leaned closer to him to stroke his face, "Spike, give me and yourself a little more credit, please.  Some of the things you did were horrible, but I've watched you change...  Last summer, you didn't have to stay no matter what you'd promised a dead woman."

    While she spoke, her hand never left Spike's cheek.  She needed him to know that, in her eyes, he was always more than his past actions.  Spike took her hand gently, "Thank you, pet, for stopping me.  I don't always listen when I should."

    "No kidding?" Tara grinned slyly, "You mean like the time I told you to stay out of the pudding?"

    "Here now, you've no cause bringing that up," he laughed, "S'not my fault Bit doesn't know teaspoons from tablespoons!  Besides, shoulda' been tossed out all proper-like."

    "I told you it was gross!  But, no, The Big Bad has to prove me wrong, eat the pudding, and then you spit it all over Xander," Tara shared Spike's laugh over the memory until panic crossed her face, "Oh no!  Buffy's birthday party! It's tonight.  I still have to get her something!"

    Spike smiled and moved in to place a soft kiss on Tara's cheek, "I guess we're going shopping today, love, we'll find something for her.  No need to fret over that scrap of a detail.  You gonna tell the killjoy 'bout your dream?"

    Assuming he meant Mr. Giles, Tara nodded her head.  Maybe Anya could help prepare them all for meeting Vékell, and Tara also hoped she'd remember why Holy Cauldron meant something to her.  She let the nagging memories slip away and raced for the shower.  Her last thought while running for the bathroom was, 'Spike just kissed me,' and it didn't matter that it was only on her cheek.  That Spike kissed her was foreign and welcome in the same breath.  She looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink and asked her reflection, "When did I start liking Spike?  Too bad he didn't-"

    "Hurry up!  We need to get moving so I can stop by Willy's first.  Bloke owes me a bit o' the dosh," Spike called from the hallway, and Tara cut her own voice off before he could hear her.  Surely Spike wasn't interested in her?

    "DAWN!"  Buffy was pissed, and Dawn better be ready to explain some things fast.  When the girl didn't answer, Buffy smashed the bedroom door open, "Dawn, you told me your homework was done -- Dawn?!"  The bed was empty, and the window was open.

    Willow slunk in behind Buffy and looked around.  "Where is she?"

    "If I knew that, would I be standing in here braying like a jackass?"  Inside Buffy's mind, the girl she'd been screamed at what she was becoming to leave Dawnie alone, and that voice was shoved a little further from the surface.

    Mornings were hardest for him, and now that his lover had left him, correction, he'd dumped her, mornings were the most horrible time of day.  Still, Xander'd had enough with Anya.  He was tired of getting the blame for all their problems, and he couldn't understand why she wouldn't just forgive him.  The last time he'd spoken to Buffy and Willow about his ex-fiance, they'd both shrugged away the attempted conversation.  Willow's only comment had been that Xander might be better off without Anya clinging to him constantly.  After Buffy left to patrol, Will had hugged him and told him all would be fine soon.  She had a plan to help Buffy, but she refused to fill him in on the details.  That was upsetting.  Willow had never left him out of her plans entirely, and, in fact, he was the first person with whom she'd discussed the resurrection spell.  Not Tara.  Maybe that was the beginning of their falling apart.  Xander didn't know, but he was sorry to see Willow lose Tara even though he understood why Tara left.

    When he thought about the past couple of weeks, Xander realized how little he'd seen either of his friends.  Most of his off-time was spent begging Ahn's forgiveness, but Anya repeatedly kicked him out of The Magic Box.  When he saw Buffy patrolling two nights ago, she complained that Spike was nowhere to be found.  Xander joked, "Maybe he's dust in the wind," and Buffy's reply was unsettling, "Only when I kill him."  Her voice was so serious that Xander almost believed she was ready to kill the bleached wonder, but that was just so...insane.  Hell, even Xander was aware of all the help Spike gave them, and he'd been pretty decent last summer with Dawn.  For that matter, Spike was decent to him too if Xander was going to be candid with the world today.  When Xander questioned Buffy, she abruptly changed the subject and told him to mind his own business.  Then the real weirdness happened.  Buffy's face contorted and seemed filled with fear.  As soon as she tried to speak again, her whole body jerked around to run the other way.  He'd tried to run after her, but Buffy stopped almost as soon as she'd started.  She said she thought she heard a scream.  Nothing new for Sunnydale, but Buffy's face was distant again.  Closed and shuttered.  Rather than call Giles, Xander convinced himself it was a trick of the light.  Buffy was and always would be the protector and friend he loved.

He'd see everyone at the party tonight, and the carpenter assured himself both Buffy and Willow would be themselves.  When the phone rang, he rushed for it assuming there was a problem with the site.

    "Hello?"

    "Is Dawn there?" demanded Willow.

    "Good morning to you too, Sunshine," Xander said flippantly, "isn't she in school?"

    Willow sounded irritated, "We don't know yet.  She's been gone since before we got up!"

    "Don't ya think calling the school would be a good idea?  It's crazy, Will, but I hear all the kids go there these days,"  Willow's snippy attitude was annoying.

    "Yeah, fine.  If she's not there, get over here to help us find her, Xander," Willow demanded rudely.

    Before Xander could reply, she hung up the phone.  He'd wanted to get to the building site and inspect the roof.  The guys had finished it yesterday, but with those showers late last night, Xander wanted to be certain there weren't any problems.  It was bad enough that work would be postponed until the ground dried out.  Instead, he'd have to help find Dawn.

    Dawn had seen the man sneak into Tara's apartment.  His car, the same one that was parked at her home the night before, was left running.  When he darted back out of the house carrying a small painting, Dawn's curiosity was piqued.  With Tara's car gone, Dawn assumed that man hadn't been there to hurt her friend, but that wasn't exactly an answer to the great mystery.  What could he possibly want?  Fearing the wrath of Buffy and Willow, Dawn turned and walked to school without calling the police.  She'd warn Tara later.  Unfortunately, she was going to be late for her first class, but if Dawn went, she might be able to avoid detention.  Tara and Spike would be at the party, and she'd have to talk with them there.  As much as she loved Giles, she wasn't about to trust him with her discoveries or personal terrors.
 

    Vékell chose a form that would blend in with the Sunnydale population.  It had been years since a human form was necessary, and it was easy to forget the little pleasures humanity had to offer.  Vékell resolved to wander as a human more frequently as she flexed her fingers and sniffed curiously at the air.  Cinnamon, glossy curls capped her head and framed her elfin face.  This time, she chose violet eyes.  She'd admired the young Elizabeth Taylor, and her eye color was a favorite of Vékell's.

    The idea that Anyanka was now human amused her greatly, but she'd have to set the girl straight.  New Orleans was such a short time ago in Vékell's mind.  Her understanding of time was not the same as humans.  Time and dimensions folded for Vékell.  The Powers were still angry, and Vékell would only be forgiven when she agreed to play by the rules set forth centuries past when The Powers realized humans were self-aware.  Because of Vékell's indifference to rules, she'd ignored the directive to watch and never intervene.  Some humans had called her an angel, others a god, others a demon, but she was something else entirely.  The keeper of time, dimensions, the one who gives grace, the one who comforts, the one of wrath, the one who punishes when necessary...  All of it and more had Vékell been sometimes because she'd chosen the roles though Keeper of the Gates would always be her true duty.  She was still one of the Powers, but her love of human beings and willingness to step in for them made her an outcast.  The others considered only Champions worthy of their help or time.  Now she was needed because, no matter what, Vékell did have access to all portals even without The Key, and the other Powers could not allow a mere human to learn those secrets.

    Tara, gifted and connected, was chosen protector to The Key.  The Slayer was no longer fit for the task.  In fact, her part was over, and she should've been allowed her rest.  Ethan Rayne was a surprise, but Vékell always loved surprises.  As long as he didn't try and usurp the power for himself, he would be allowed his fun and games.  Willow Rosenberg...  She would be Vékell's sworn enemy if the insipid little wretch continued her plans.  It would mean Willow's death, but that would be the witch's choice.  The Key, Dawn, Vékell reminded herself, looked about nervously and ran from Tara's home.  None of these players noticed Vékell for the moment, and the chastised Power would protect Dawn until those chosen for the task were made aware of their duties.  The barrier between the witch and child was already in place.  Again Vékell stretched and marveled over the sensation.  To be human was better than being divine.

    The sharp ringing of the phone pierced Willow's thoughts.  Xander and Buffy had driven over to the school to look for Dawn while Willow performed a locater spell.  Something kept blocking her from finding the girl, and Willow was getting pissed.  If Willow believed in cloaking devices, one certainly surrounded Dawn.  Frustrated, she decided to answer the phone rather than try the spell again.

    "Summers' residence," she stated crisply.

    "We found her, Will, she's at school," Buffy told her friend.

    "You did?  That's great!  Is she okay, Buffy?  Why'd she take off so early?"

    "She says she wanted to get some extra studying done at the library for her history test, and then she lost track of time.  Her teacher let her off with a warning."

    "Good, tell Xander I'll talk with him later.  I'm glad Dawnie's okay," and Willow was relieved.  She needed Dawn for her plan to work.  Willow looked at her desk and computer.  Books and papers covered with crudely drawn symbols and mathematical equations littered her workspace.  Willow's theories were sometimes brilliant and frightening simultaneously.  She swallowed a bit of cold coffee and grimaced.  It was time to get back to work.

    For awhile, Willow hoped she wouldn't have to resort to using Dawn's powers.  As Buffy grew colder, she realized something was terribly wrong.  The friend she remembered from high school was replaced by someone focused almost entirely on killing.  Willow had followed Buffy several nights, and she watched the Slayer kill in an almost machine-like state.  The brutality of it was sickening.  Buffy also took fewer precautions.  Two nights ago, the battered carcass of an unrecognizable mass of lacerations and bruises was left in a gazebo in front of the courthouse.  Whatever it was, it had a purple tongue-torn out and left at the thing's feet.  Willow knew Buffy was still Buffy, but the cruel violence with which she approached slaying wasn't normal.  It forced Willow into almost non-stop research, and finally, the answers were coming into focus.  She needed Dawn's blood, but it wouldn't matter because when it was all fixed, Dawn would be okay.  Actually, Dawn never would've been hurt at all if the plan worked.

    Superstring theory, combined with Willow's magic, seemed a potential answer to a prayer.  The witch was barely familiar with the physics idea that combined quantum theory and relativity, but she'd known enough to realize magic might help her use what she didn't necessarily comprehend.  There were other dimensions.  Anya had confirmed that fact long before Dawn came into the picture or Buffy died.  What Willow wasn't sure about was time.  Could the past be manipulated?  That's when she began applying certain principles of math and physics to magic.  If particles, lives, worlds, and even histories were drawn out on infinite strings, rather than just small particles as some physicists theorized, then maybe some of the strings were carrying the past.  Perhaps time could be shortened, lengthened, or even dissolved through magic.  Her ultimate goal was to save Buffy.  If Buffy hadn't died, the resurrection spell would never have happened.  Unfortunately, the only way to get to those "strings" was through The Key.

    Willow assumed Dawn's previous form was capable of replenishing itself.  It was a justification the witch used to feel better about her intentions.  Since blood replenished itself during healing, Willow believed she could take some of the girl's blood to open the gateway to the past, and Dawn would heal naturally.  Her only problem?  She'd need enough blood to open the gateway back to the present.  She could find the past Dawn and take it, but that wouldn't alter the timeline to Willow's liking.  Much was riding on her assumptions, but she repeatedly told herself everything would be fine.  She would go back and follow Xander and Spike to Doc, and she would kill that miserable creature before returning to the present.  If it worked, both Buffy and Dawn would be alive and happy.  She and Tara would be together, and maybe Xander and Anya would still break up.  A happy thought.  Of course, only Willow would remember everything that had happened, and she could live with that.  In Willow's most twisted state of mind, she recognized she could potentially kill Dawn.  Killing a young mortal, even one created from magic, wasn't going to win back her friends and lover, but she chose to ignore the truth in favor of her own desires.

    When Xander returned with Buffy, Willow was genuinely happy to see her friends for the first time in weeks.  She watched Buffy trudge upstairs to head back to bed, and Xander mumbled something about checking out the construction site.  Willow smiled and reminded Xander not to be late for dinner before whispering she'd pick up the cake.  After the party, she planned on finalizing her spell.  Originally, she'd hoped the same sort of power she skimmed from Dawn, the teen's energy and essence, could be used to open the necessary doors, but like Spike had said so long ago, "...it's always got to be blood."

    Spike had heard Tara's comment in the bathroom unbeknownst to the woman, and it had him walking on air.  The girl liked him.  Okay, the lesbian girl liked him, but didn't that make her bisexual?  Sure thing, he'd go with that one and hope for the best.  As the couple searched mall shops for Buffy's present, Spike's attention kept wandering back to the trunk where he kept personal memorabilia.  It was the one piece of history he owned never tainted by Dru.  His life with her was kept separate from his mortal days and loves.  While Drusilla might have carried certain attachments to her own human family, those feelings of warmth did not extend to Spike's loved ones, and Spike had always been certain that Dru would've turned her mother and siblings had Angelus not brutally murdered the family for pleasure.

    In the beaten trunk, Spike kept three small oil paintings of his family, a few odds bit of jewelry belonging to his mother, some assorted books, an unused journal, and one Shatoosh shawl.  The shawl was in pristine condition and would've been quite the find for any museum specializing in textiles.  It was deceptively simple but worth thousands of dollars.  Undyed and lacking decorative embroidery, some women would've found it too plain without realizing its' significance or monetary value.  Spike was well aware of the fact that customs agents had seized several of the shawls not too long ago due to poaching, and that made his antique all the more valuable.  Never once had he considered giving it to any woman.  Dru would have lost it; Buffy wouldn't have understood the emotional attachment behind the gift.  Now, he pictured Tara wrapped loosely in a shawl so delicate it could pass through a small ring.  In fact, Shatoosh shawls were nicknamed 'ring shawl' though Spike had no idea when the name came about.  He could still remember his father leaning over his mother's reading chair to surprise her with the present, and his mother had prized the garment above any other gift she'd ever received.  Once she'd gotten older, she said to her to son, "I'm saving this for you, William, you must give this to someone who is capable of loving you with all her being.  Who knows, dearest, perhaps you shall save it for a time when you have a daughter..."  Well, that dream of his mother's certainly hadn't come true, but he knew she'd approve of Tara owning the work of art.

    "Spike?  Um..Spike?" Tara asked him, and he was pulled away from thoughts and dreams, "What do you think of this?"

    "Buffy's not one for floppy hats, kitten," Spike said smiling, "I think I've just the idea for her."  Reaching for Tara's hand, the vampire led her to the jewelry counter and picked out a silver bracelet.  It was a clunky and modern looking bauble that would go well with all the Slayer's enormous boots.

    Tara's eyes lit up while exclaiming, "That's perfect!  It's just so Buffyish."

    "That, it is," he replied, "What say we look at something for you to wear?  A knock them all dead on their asses frock?"

    Spike mentally kicked himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth.  Tara's eyes dropped along with her hair to curtain her face, "Do I look that bad?"

    "Bad?  No!  Tara, look at me," Spike pushed her hair from her face and took her chin, "You are one of the most beautiful women I've had the pleasure of knowing.  Not so hard to hear, eh?"

    "Thanks, Spike," she blushed as she responded, "Does anyone alive still say frock?"

    Spike snorted at that last comment then replied, "Gratitude's not necessary.  What about the dress, love?  I saw a gorgeous number in that specialty shop we passed.  All burgundy wine, prettier than blood," Spike described, "it'd be bloody perfect on you!  Just come see it!  Course, you have to know you'll fill it out just right."  She blushed again and Spike grinned.  He loved making women flush over his compliments, "Come on, love, you know you want to look.  Be bad and spend my money, ducks, I don't do it often."

    "Are we both giving Buffy the bracelet or do you want to?" Tara segued.

    "Nope, I got the bint a present weeks ago.  A spot of perfume.  Smells a mite better than Doublemeat Palace.  I'll show it to you when we get home. Tara?"  Spike was nervous, but he'd wanted to ask since he heard Tara's conversation with herself earlier, "You wouldn't want to... oh never mind.  I'm being a world class git again."

    "Wait, what is it?"

    Spike hemmed around the subject a bit and tried to distract the witch, but she'd have none of it.  She again asked him to finish whatever he'd wanted to say.  He gathered his courage and finally looked Tara directly in the eyes, "I know we can't tonight.  Party an' all, but...  Oh bloody hell, Tara, I'm just going to ask straight out," Spike took a deep breath, "Would you like to go out...on a date?  With me, I mean."  He cringed and waited for a rejection while cursing himself for probably sounding like that bleeding idiot, Harris. It was an awful thought.

    Tara smiled up at Spike and then frowned, "W-what about Buffy?"

    The demon sighed.  He should've known that question would come, "This isn't about Buffy.  I'm trying to move on, and I happen to like you.  Do you get that?  I. Like. You.  Lately, I get the idea you might just feel a bit for me too.  Maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part..."

    Now it was Spike's turn to avoid her gaze as he waited for an answer, "I loved Willow for a long time.  I'm sorry, Spike, I should've said this yesterday...  Willow showed up at my art class and waited until I was alone," Spike stiffened and waited for the blow to fall, "She...she told me I belong to her.  W-we fought because I had to be truthful.  I don't love her anymore.  I pity Willow."

    Spike tried to contain his glee as she continued, "I don't know what my feelings for you are yet, but they're there.  So yeah, let's go out and see what happens.  Why not start with the party tonight?  The others will know sooner or later, and I don't like  hiding things," Tara beamed at the thrilled vampire.

    "You sure you're ready for that?" Spike asked.

    Tara appeared thoughtful, "I don't know...  I mean, I guess it's just better to start with things in the open.  Buffy and Willow will hate it, but I'm not going to answer to either of them.  It's my life to live."

    Again Spike thought she'd look stunning in the dress, and the shawl would be the perfect accent.  For the first time in months, he felt good about being with another person.  As he luxuriated in Tara's smile, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms, and she didn't jerk away or push at him.  Instead, she returned the embrace and looked up at him with that shy smile of hers he'd grown to love, and Spike decided to hell with all.  This was a girl whose mouth needed to be kissed and often.  He was elated when Tara didn't object, and that made exploring the softness of her mouth all the sweeter.   It was unlike the bitter pain that always accompanied kissing Buffy.  Tara even tasted like the raspberries he could smell whenever she entered a room.  Her lips were the smooth velvet of rose petals warmed in the sun, and he pulled her in closer to feel the soft fullness of her breasts.  His head was swimming...  Before he could forget their purpose at the mall, he pulled away and smiled while saying, "We should probably finish up...take this slow too, pet, don't want to rush and scare you."

    A security guard watched the couple with envy, and Spike put his arm around Tara possessively, 'Mine, mate,' he thought as he steered her toward the shop to purchase the dress.  Before entering the store, he stopped long enough to switch to game face and give the security guard a scare.  Apparently Tara saw his show of bravado, but she laughed good naturedly over the affair and her arm tightened around his waist.  The idea that this woman understood  he was a monster who was capable of choosing between cruelty and kindness struck Spike as a good omen.  Unlike Buffy, she could accept all of him.  It was good to be evil.

Behind them, Vékell followed the pair.  She'd watched Dawn make it to school safely, then located Tara and Spike.  To see Tara falling for a demon was a surprise, but if the girl did fall in love with one of them, better him than another.  After all, he too was a chosen protector to The Key.  Both protectors had lives with enough despair, and Vékell would make them see what had to be done.  Once over, The Key and her guardians would be free to go where they chose.  The other Powers had understood Vékell's first choice of protection for Dawn.  The vampire, on the other hand, had been a point of contention since before his own existence.  In one of the other dimensions, the Slayer survived while all the others were killed.  She'd become a deranged and wild creature who barely resembled Buffy Summers.  Sadly, that Buffy was also a slave to Glorificus.  That place was the worst since Glorificus had won, and Vékell refused to see something equally horrific happen in this reality.  This dimension was one of three in which the prophecies remained true to form, and now The Powers needed Vékell to see to it that didn't change.  Thankfully, the other two dimensions survived despite Buffy's death.  In those lives, The Key and her chosen protectors worked their way through their worlds and waited.  Of course, there were also dimensions where none of this mattered because they belonged to worlds without demons or worlds belonging entirely to demons.  In fact, most dimensions didn't contain the same people who'd simply made different choices-they were different worlds with different prophecies, religions, and fates.  Vékell sighed.  Tonight, those who could save The Key would be made aware.  The air surrounding the former Power shimmered and folded into itself.  She disappeared from where she stood to places unseen.

    Harmony was tired.  Harmony was angry.  Harmony was bored.  And Harmony wanted to get the hell out of Sunnydale to forget all about her ex-boyfriend, but Ethan had told her she a necessary element of his spell.  She sighed and popped her bubble-gum, whined a little, and then allowed Ethan to place her in the center of his circle.  At least he didn't need her blood.  That would've been a deal breaker.

    Earlier she'd tried to take the watercolor Ethan stole from the bitch who was with Spike, and he'd promised her an unlife filled with misery if she so much as glanced at that painting again.  Harmony had only wanted it as a reminder of why she swore to hate Spike forever.  Not only was he with a plain looking witch, Blondie Bear was with a human witch.  His sick obsession with the Slayer seemed over, but now this?  It was too much for Harmony's ego.  LA waited, and Ethan had promised her an interview with a lawyer friend of his at some company called Wolfram and Hart.  It was supposed to be a high-class law firm for demons primarily, and Harmony just wanted some stability.  She might have considered a job at the Doublemeat Palace if the place hadn't required those unattractive uniforms.  As long as she got paid, she didn't care who she worked for, well, she'd care too much, but she'd have to be careful to avoid Angel and Cordelia.  Cordy, like everyone else, betrayed her.  That's how Harmony chose to remember her recent past.

    "All right now, love, you'll need to remain quite still," Ethan spoke, "You'll be surrounded by flames.  As long as you don't move, they can't hurt you in the least."

    "Why do you need me anyway?" Not that Harmony really cared what happened to that idiot Buffy, but she was curious to know how all the stuff they'd stolen would be used.

    "It's a simple spell, really, elegant and effective," Ethan instructed with the air of a teacher, "You represent the dead, Buffy Summers in this case, and the items around you represent the living fools who cast the resurrection spell."

    "So... Buffy really was dead?"

    "Quite so."

    "That's so great," Harmony said enthusiastically, "I wish I'd been there to see it!  Wait, how'd you get something that belonged to Xander's girlfriend?  We didn't steal anything from her place."

    "Her former boss was quite helpful-that necklace you admired earlier?  It was hers.  D'Hoffryn and I are old friends, and that's really more than enough information, dear girl," Ethan told the vampire, "Truly, silence is required now."

    Harmony didn't move even when the smell of fresh blood wafted across the room.  She knew Ethan was sprinkling his blood on the edges of outer circle, and the smell was so intoxicating that Harmony wished she'd eaten before Ethan started his spell.  When he stopped moving and stood just outside the circle, she heard him yell two words she couldn't understand along with what she thought might be a prayer, "Advocare!  Incendium!  I beseech thee, Osiris, my blood for your truths."  A brilliant deep purple flame surrounded the vampire but stayed on the outer edges of the circle.  More blood was sprinkled into the flames, and the request repeated in a cycle that seemed to take hours.  Had Ethan not explained to Harmony what was about to happen, she would've tried to run and been killed for certain.

    The basement room the pair chose as a hiding spot turned black, and the air felt heavy and thick against the skin.  Ethan could see nothing but Harmony and the flames when he heard a voice growl through the rolling, viscous air.  The pure blackness of the room gave the vampire and flames the illusion that they floated.  For a moment, Ethan felt he would fall into nothing as he heard, "Ask your questions, mortal, I have little time."

    "You allowed one to cross, Osiris, the Slayer.  She died a mystical death, but was she allowed to return whole?"

    "It is not mine to choose how the dead shall be returned.  Only if the dead shall be returned is mine.  Your Slayer was whole.  She no longer is."

    Ethan pondered the answers for a moment, "Can she be saved?"

    "You must to speak to the keeper of time.  The one who heals to give hope but causes mass confusion."

    "Who is the keeper of time?"

    "Vékell," replied Osiris, "be sure of your intentions before you seek out that one.  One last question, mortal, choose wisely and we are done.  Your vampire becomes impatient."

    "If the Slayer cannot be saved, must she be killed?" Ethan kicked himself for that one.  He should've asked how to find this Vékell creature.

    "No.  Her power can belong to one who would mold it to a purpose.  Strong magics are required, and there is another whose abilities surpass yours.  Vékell will not allow either of you to harness the Slayer.  Do not trouble me further, human."  The air cleared instantly and the flames vanished.

    Harmony sat up and rubbed at her stiff neck before turning to ask, "Are we done now?  I wanna be in LA before tomorrow morning."

    Ethan, lost in thoughts of Osiris, ignored Harmony and left the room.  Angry and tired, the vampire stood and stomped her feet petulantly.  Why did men always forget about her for that blonde slut?  "FINE!  See if I help you ever again, Mr. Big Shot Sorcerer," she shouted at the doorway.  After her tantrum, Harmony reluctantly followed after Ethan and hoped she could still get that job.

    When she entered the narrow hallway, Ethan stood in rapt concentration.  He finally glanced at the vampire and spoke, "Your services are no longer required.  I thank you, Miss Kendall.  You've a new job with Wolfram and Hart awaiting your arrival," the sorcerer smiled and went on, "I always keep my promises, love."

    Harmony shrieked elatedly before throwing her arms around Ethan.  "You mean it?  OH!!  This is so great, Ethan, I can't wait.  What's your friend's name?  Should I wear a suit?  I'll call Daddy tonight.  He can always up my credit limit."

    Ethan stared at the babbling twit, "Your father supports you?"

    "Well, yeah.  He said I  had to get a job or he'd cut me off from my allowance. A job or college.  What vampire goes to college?"

Confused Ethan asked, "Why do you need his money with a job?"

"Duh! Who else is going o pay my rent?"

    Shaking his head at the absurd picture of Harmony, Wanna be Master Vampire, not only allowing her family to live, but actually accepting credit cards and money, Ethan chuckled.  She'd been helpful collecting personal items of those damned fools and during the spell.  Oddly enough, Ethan Rayne found he'd miss the vapid little blundering mess.  Yet, it was probably just as well he didn't show up at Ripper's with her on his arm, and she'd be happier not seeing that Spike character or his witch.  Still, she was charming in her own way.  What Ethan couldn't understand was how on earth she and William the Bloody had come to know one another.  According to Harmony, Spike was fixated on Buffy, and she knew nothing of this Tara Maclay.   'A pretty thing,' Ethan reflected, 'too bad her power is well grounded in the natural order...  Well, perhaps when this is over I can bend the delectable Miss Rosenberg to my way of thinking.'  The magics used at the Summers' house were quite different from any he'd sensed in the past.

    The mall scenes played out in Tara's mind more than once.  Spike had taken Tara home and made her promise to wait for him.  After that, he'd run and jumped into the nearest sewer pipe to be off on some mysterious errand.  She had no idea what he could be up to, but he'd left her with several passionate kisses and a request to get herself ready for Buffy's party.  If Spike could've been more mystifying, Tara would've liked to see it.  Her only hope was that he wasn't heading back to the mall to punch that ogling security guard in the face.  He'd certainly threatened it enough times while Tara tried on the dress he'd chosen.  The dress was still a huge surprise.

    Looking at the garment, Tara realized it resembled the traditional Indian choli top with the capped sleeves, and it was meant to show as much midriff as possible.  It also had a long, straight, faux wrap styled skirt.  It was made from a beautiful and richly colored silk that reminded her of the pinot noir Mr. Giles kept in his kitchen.  The lightly embroidered flowers on the top were done in a fine gold silk, and it must've cost Spike a small fortune.  Of course, Spike had made a point of tearing away the price tag before guiding Tara towards a dressing room.  The woman working at the shop, most likely the owner, had laughed delightedly at the vampire's demeanor and proclaimed she wished all men were more romantic.  Tara was curious to know how Spike could buy such an outfit when he was always demanding money for his services.  She'd even heard him make the claim that someone had to keep him in smokes and pints.  At the time, she'd shuddered to think that pints meant not only liquor but blood as well.  Thinking back to that old Scooby meeting, Tara decided the moment was endearing.  Spike's last words before racing towards the nearest manhole cover had been, "Get yourself a proper soak, love, I'll be back in more than enough time to escort the lady fair.  I've got evil to do first," his eyes had flashed wickedly-almost daring her to say something.  It was hard to believe they'd spent all day at Willy's and the mall.

    Settling in the fragrant water, Tara was grateful for the spacious tub in the apartment.  The owners had kept the original bathroom fixtures in the old Victorian, but one of them moved the tub and sink down to the first floor when the large bathroom was installed.  Tara loved the old claw feet.  When Edmund hopped from the floor to the sink, she startled a bit and smiled, "What are you up to, Ed?"

    "Meeeeoooooooowwwww," was the only response, but Tara continued their rather one sided conversation.

    "I know," she replied, "you're thinking it too.  You're gay!  You're not supposed to have feelings for anything male.  Well, you're here, right?"

    "Meow, meowoow," said Edmund.

    "You're pretty loud too, kitty," Tara told the little beast.

    Pleased with his mistress or in a mood to look cute, Edmund purred loudly.  If cats smiled, this one was chuckling.

    "I don't know when it started," the young woman confided in the cat, "I loved Willow so much, Ed...  But I think I started to notice him last summer.  Spike wasn't just a vampire anymore.  Do you understand?"

    The cat stretched and promptly slipped from the edge of the sink and into the basin, "Meeeeooowwwwww," came the pitiful reply.

    "Yeah, I guess I did like one other boy besides you," she continued, "His name was Tyler, and he was a friend of Donnie's.  Whenever Donnie would punch me or call me a stupid cow, Tyler would always stand up for me.  Finally, he quit talking to Donnie and only came to see me.  He was the only good thing about that damn town."  The words sounded bitter and angry.  Edmund didn't respond, and Tara whispered softly, "When Tyler died, I felt like I'd lost my only friend, and I remember thinking I loved him.  ...He was my first kiss.  Then there was Emma, and she was my world until high school ended.  We just grew apart.  Willow?  I thought she was my everything..."

    Edmund jumped back to the sink's edge and purred again before settling into the important business of grooming.

    Tara leaned back and sighed, careful to keep her hair out of the water, before speaking again, "You know, Edmund?  I think everything really is going to be okay," almost on cue the front door slammed.

    Assuming Spike was home, Tara called, "I'm in here!"

    The bathroom door swung open and Willow replied, "Hi, baby, did ya miss me?"

    "Get out now, Willow," was the angry reply.

    "So... Buffy tells me the blonde bastard is living here?  Don't worry, everything is going to be fine, and none of this will even be a memory," Willow spoke venomously.

    "I said leave, Willow, we may have to see each other tonight, but you're not welcome here," Tara stated and was relieved to hear her voice sound clear and strong.

    Willow stood and leaned against the doorframe for a moment before lowering her head, and Tara could've sworn she'd done it to hide her eyes.

    "We talk tonight, Tara, you owe me that."

    "Willow, I don't owe you anything-not anymore.  You slapped me yesterday!  But it was over before that," Tara told her former lover.  Her heart beat rapidly, and she felt light headed, "Spike and I will be there for Dawn's sake."

    "You can't bring him!"  whining, Willow looked up and Tara shuddered.  Like the night of the resurrection spell, Willow's eyes were completely black and filled with an awful power.

    Somehow Tara remained steady, "I'll bring who I want as my date."

    "DATE!?  Buffy is so going to hear about this!"  In a fury, Willow grabbed the bathroom door and slammed it, but she did at least leave.  Spike would be furious when she told why the bathroom door sported a twelve-inch split in the wood, but Tara promised herself she'd never lie again after that awful fiasco with her family.  It was a promise she intended to keep.  The front door slammed behind Willow, and Tara felt like she'd won a piece of herself back from the other woman-she refused to spill any more tears over Willow Rosenberg.

    Regretfully leaving the warmth of the water, Tara stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in an oversized bath towel.  Contemplating her hair, she decided to go for a French twist with a few loose strands to frame her face.  It was simple and elegant, much like the dress, and she hoped Spike would like it.  Her make-up, light as always, was easy and quick to apply.  Surveying her undergarments, she chose a burgundy lace bra and panties that matched the dress perfectly.  Hair and face done, Tara walked toward her room to get dressed.  The jewel neckline of the top suited Tara's features perfectly, and the straight skirt emphasized her shapely hips.  For once, she felt graceful, pretty, and not overbearingly huge.  She only wished she had a scarf or wrap to go with it.

    When the front door opened again and Spike called out, "Pet, you ready?"  Tara gladly stepped into the living room to show Spike the end results, and his jaw promptly hit the floor, "You...you..you're bloody magnificent!"  His eyes were wide with admiration.

    Pleased, Tara blushed and replied, "Thank you, Spike, you helped."

    "Stay right there," Spike ran towards his room, shopping bags in hand, and left Tara to wonder again, "Don't come in here, pet, it'll be worth it."

    When the bedroom door opened, Spike walked out wearing black chinos, a tight fitting brilliant, cornflower-blue, silk shirt, and his Doc Martins.  It was Tara's turn to stare open-mouthed.  In his hands were two boxes. One clearly labeled with  Buffy's name that was obviously the bottle of perfume he'd shown Tara earlier.  The other box was a mystery.  "Even I clean up right nice, eh?"

    Tara caught her breath and responded, "You're beautiful, Spike."

    He grinned in response, "Here, I want you to have this," Spike offered the long box to her.

    "You've done enough for me," Tara told him, but he interrupted.

    "Please, take it.  You're the only one I want to have this," he didn't look her in the eye, and Tara wondered just how many times he'd offered something to Buffy only to be pushed away.

    Taking the box, Tara carefully unwrapped the gift and wondered what on earth it could be.  Inside, a soft brown shawl lay against gold tissue paper.  When Tara picked up the piece of fabric, she realized Spike must've had this in mind when buying her the dress because it would go beautifully.  The fabric, light and warm feeling, made Tara think of her textiles course.  "Spike...  I..I can't take this," she stuttered, "It's too much."

    Spike rushed forward and pulled the girl and wrap close to him, "Shhh, sweets, you can and will take it.  I knew it would mean something to you.  It's been with me for a long time, Tara, it's yours now."

    "Whose was it?"  She asked curiously while praying it wasn't stolen from an old victim.

    "It belonged to me mum," Spike didn't mind telling her about his family, "I guess I'm a mite more sentimental than most vamps, love, I'll show you the portraits I saved someday..." his voice trailed away.  "You know, saving scraps of the past doesn't make me human or less evil, Tara."

    "Spike--"

    "Listen, pet, it's time to play our cards.  Now, I'm not rushing you or trying to change your mind, and I ain't saying I've changed my mind.  Cause I haven't.  Do you understand me, Tara, me?  This chip keeps me from being evil--"

    It was Tara's turn to interrupt, "No, it doesn't," Spike's eyes narrowed, "You've made choices, Spike, and a difference in the lives of people you care about.  You have the capacity for doing good or evil...," the witch thought for a moment, "When Adam was around, you tore the Scoobies apart with a few well-timed phrases.  That was evil.  You made up for it later because you started to care about Buffy, remember?  It didn't stop with situations that were just Buffy-related.  You can still be evil, but you've chosen to try being pretty decent."

    "For the money, love," Spike had to say.

    Tara smiled, "Yeah, but how long has it been since you demanded money from anyone?"

    Rolling his eyes Spike answered through gritted teeth, "A long damn time.  But I still hurt Buffy-did more damage to her by being with her than she ever did me."

    Shaking her head she answered, "No, you hurt each other.  Quantifying emotional damage isn't possible.  I guess we have some things to work out too, Spike, now we have to decide if it's worth it.  I trust you, and I believe it is."

    Spike smiled and looked the beautiful young woman over, "You trust me," he repeated as though saying the words aloud himself would make them absolute.

    Tara leaned up to kiss the demon, and he responded eagerly.  If they didn't stop, she'd end up out of the dress and tumbled onto the floor with a more than willing Spike.  His hands pressed into her back, and he pulled her tighter while seeming to taste every aspect of Tara's mouth.  Spike didn't just kiss her.  He savored her like a world renowned food critic might savor the best of dishes.  Pulling away, she cleared her head and told Spike about Willow's sudden appearance.

    For once, Spike held his temper and didn't go rushing out the door for a bit of ass kicking.  After Tara finished, he pulled her into him again and whispered that they would be fine.  He had plans for Red tonight-chip be damned.  With those thoughts in mind, Spike escorted Tara to her car and threw back the top.  If Clem was riding with them, they'd need a bit more head room than the MG offered.