Tara Bad

Rupert's yammerin' and arguin' with Slayer about this ritual. Anya's scared out of her mind. Red's followin' along pretty well and Harris is just gaping. The usual.

"I have places to be!" Tara shouts. A sudden outburst that attracts some attention for a bit, but just long enough for everyone to turn to look at her. See that she's there. Poor girl. And imagine how Red feels? They had a spat and Tara got her brain sucked out by the hell-bitch. What? You think I don't know what happened? Has nothing to do with my recent 'connection' to Tara, I can just tell. Lovers' quarrell - it's how most tragedies start. Doesn't anyone read anymore?

Harris has an idea or a comment: "Why blood? Why Dawn's blood? I mean, why couldn't it be like a, a lymph ritual?"

He doesn't know anything, does he? "'Cause it's always got to be blood."

"We're not actually discussing dinner right now."

Git thinks he's so bloody funny. "Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead." My voice drops, this is serious stuff here, "Course it's her blood." I put the cigarette I'd nearly forgotten about to my lips again. I need the nicotine, even if it doesn't have that much affect on me.

Slayer speaks up now, "Pretty simple math here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

Rupert hedges a bit, "If my calculations are right. But Buffy�."

Slayer sighs and huffs and throws her arms out. "I don't wanna hear it." She turns away from the little group.

"I understand that�." This argument could go on for a bit.

Slayer whirls back around to face him. "No! No, you don't understand. We are not talking about this."

Ripper's out now. Rupert leaps to his feet and yells, "Yes, we bloody well are!"

This should be good. Now that we're 'bloody well' talkin' about this. Or arguin' about it, or whatever we're doing. Mostly, I�m just sittin' here watchin' the slayer and her watcher have it out about killin' the Nibblet if Glory gets a good start on her ritual.

"I love you all, but I'm sorry," I hear the Slayer say. What is she talking about?

Anya's screamin' something. Sod her. "Uh," I raise m'hand in the air, "when you say you love us all�."

"Shut up!" Rupert and Harris snarl together at me. Bloody team up on me why don't you. Was just askin' a question.

****

So, Anya rambled on for a while coming up with 'outside the box' ideas and now I'm on 'follow the Slayer' home duty. What is going on? I mean, Nibblet's hell-knows where about ready to be bled dry; Tara's got nearly nothing of herself left inside her head; and Slayer's about nutty as a fruitcake, wanting to take on this Glory-bitch with a glowy sphere and a hammer.

Guess she could've had one hell of a pep-talk with Watcher about something and she got some ideas from Red. Heard 'em talkin' about spells and stuff.

Tara. What to do about her. No, not Red. Me. I should apologize for using 'er like I did. Nah, come on, figure I'm gonna die, should at least own up to the shit I've done. I did use 'er. So what if she was half-demon and mostly responsible for most of what we did. I didn't have to let her. I could have made her leave and told all her little Scooby pals about the demon bits and got her all cured and such. Didn't. Why? Shit. Slayer's why. Wanted her. That's all. Just the Slayer. Just wanted her to notice, pay attention, show that she cared or something. Anything but treat me like dirt and shove my nose into the ground. Guess yellin' at me and tellin' me to come with is better than her beatin' me up for information or help. Closest I'm gonna get I s'pose.

She opens the door and walks into the house, yammerin' on. I stop on the porch, just outside the lovely threshold barrier. "Uh, Buffy�" I wave a bit at her when she turns around and she just looks at me, confused. "If you wanna just hand 'em over the threshold, I'll�"

"Come in, Spike," she says softly, her face mostly blank. There's something there. Not love - 'course not that. Not even like. Just, something that I can't figure.

Huh. She let me in. So, that's different. "Hmm. Presto. No barrier." Just a look. This is uncomfortable. Gonna get some stuff then. "Um, won't bother with the small stuff. Couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself."

****

St. Crispin's Day speech it wasn't, but got the job done. We're off to� bloody hell. What is that? Tower up into the sky and that doesn't even begin to look like fun.

So, I get hit with a brick, do some ass kickin', or was that the other way around? Either way - now I'm being sent up to the tip-top of this bleeding tower to see what's going on with Nibblet� and damn if it isn't the good 'Doc'. Sorry bastard should know better than to mess with what I've promised to protect.

"Spike!" Dawn shrieks.

Bugger. Doc's got me pinned and this is looking bad - real bad. A thousand thoughts and images are flying through m'skull just now... Dru siring me, killing two slayers, coming to Sunnydale, everything that's happened since then - Tara, the Bot, Glory, all of it - and what she said to me earlier tonight. It's all flying by pretty fast, then I hit the ground - hard. I mean really hard. Hard enough to bounce and slam my head into the pavement and rocks. And the only thing in my head is that Nibblet's still up there, with Doc, and there's no one to save her but Buffy...

****

I passed out there. When I came to, Buffy was lying, her body mangled, on a pile of debris. I didn't learn until later that she had jumped to save the Nibblet. If only I'd been faster or something. Tara told me what happened. I don't know why she thought she needed to be the one to tell me. She wasn't part demon anymore. Something happened when Red reassembled Tara's mind. I'm not sad about that. Not angry or upset. I'm actually happy for Tara and sorry that things had gone the way they did over the last few months. She came to me after the funeral - the one I couldn't get myself to go to - it was just too painful for me - she came to me and just talked. She doesn't remember us being together and I've never mentioned it when she's here. I tell her how I miss Buffy and about my dreams - about saving her - finding a way so that Doc can't shove me off that tower and doesn't get to hurt Dawn. Tara listens. She's always been very good at that - listening.

And now, I have to tell her about the night I walked with Buffy back to her house to get weapons for the big fight...

Thinkin' back on what she said to me - Buffy, that is - when we went to the house to get stuff�

"We're not all gonna make it. You know that," she told me.

"Yeah." I watched her turn to go up the stairs. But I had to tell her something. "I know you'll never love me." She stopped and looked back at me, not angry that I said anything, not anything really. Just listening. "I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's�." She just gazed at me, said nothing. "Get your stuff, I'll be here." And she turned and made her way up the stairs.

It was horrid. "That was about the last thing I said to her before�"

Tara puts her soft, slender, gentle hand on the side of my face and smiles softly up at me. "Spike," she says my name so sweetly, so peacefully, how does she do that? "You know she knows how you feel. You've told her. It doesn't matter that she doesn't love you. She knows what you did. You tried. It's the best you could have done."

I shake my head, her hand still touching my face. "No. You don't understand. I could have done a million other things. Better, faster, more cunning - anything. I could have done more," my voice cracks and I want to kick myself for being weak. I try hard not to let the tears flow, but it doesn't work. I sink to the floor, kneeling before Tara, my eyes closed tight.

She pulls me to her, pressing my face against her stomach. Sweet, sweet Tara. So soft and still smelling of flowers or spices. She doesn't love me either, but she cares about everyone - no matter who they are. Anyone in pain is worthy of her tenderness - at least to her anyway. "Spike, it's okay. She knows you did what you could. Have you visited her?" she asks and I snarl as I look up at her. What the bleeding hell is she talking about? Buffy's dead. I can't visit her. She smiles down at me now. "Spike, her grave. Have you been there? You can go and talk to her. I don't know if she can hear you, but it might help."

I rock back on my heels and look up at her. "I don't want to go. I can't." I lower my head.

"Why not?" She's frowning at me, I can tell by the tone of her voice.

"It seems wrong somehow. I failed and shouldn't be allowed to mourn. I have to suffer."

She snorts. "Martyr-complex much? Get over this stupid shit, Spike. Go talk to Buffy."

I stare up at her, stunned out of my mind. "Excuse me?" She glares down at me. "I thought the demon was gone."

Now I can see her frowning at me. "What demon? What are you talking about? I'm not a demon. And that's not the point. Stop changing the subject. You should go talk to Buffy."

"Uh huh. And you started talking like this when?"

"About the time you started to get so stubborn. Spike, I'll help you, but you have to help a little yourself." She steps forward and strokes a hand over my hair. "I'm going to see Buffy. You coming?"

"Yeah." I nod and push to my feet. This is not at all how I planned this to go. Had a plan, really. Was going to get pissed as hell and stay that way for a good solid week. Then was gonna take up demon hunting with the Scoobies and keep and eye on the Little Bit. Crazy little blondie witch mucked that up like you wouldn't believe.

She puts her arm through mine and we walk to Buffy's grave. It's a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be and I can't even make it to the foot of the site iteslf before my face is so wet I can hardly see straight. Tara's here though. Helping. Kneeling with me, rubbing my back and saying nothing. Just being here. I'm not saying anything either - I can't. My voice won't work. So I just cry. And sod off. She's the bleeding Slayer for cryin' out loud. She's what I bloody wanted and could never sodding have. Now she's gone - forever.

End

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