Tara Bad

Sodding, buggering, bitch Slayer. And why the bloody hell did Harmony come back? Yeah, she's tryin' to help, but she's gettin' in the way. However, she had vacated the crypt when I got back from sitting with the Slayer. Was gonna blow her head off - the Slayer not Harm- but something's going on and she looked really upset, all weepin' and cryin'.

"What are you planning to do with that?" the ever-more-familiar female voice asks from a dark corner of my home.

"Put it away. Unless you wanna play with it, love." I hold the sawed-off shotgun out to her.

She shakes her head, blonde hair wisping around her face, as she walks toward me.

"What then, love?" I study her as she glides across the floor. Her dress is long and billowing - she needs to find some new styles - filmy fabric, low neckline.

Sidling up very close, she wraps an arm around my neck, her hand presses against the back of my head, and pulls me in for a kiss. Her other hand travels down my arm and taps against my knuckles until I put the gun down - not safe, but what she's doing is so much better. Sod the gun.

I had told her that she didn't need to come by anymore. I had thought she was gonna take advantage of that offer, but she returned the next night and every night since then. A couple nights, I'd had to find creative ways to get Harmony to take a long walk, but she's about the stupidest bint this side of the Atlantic, so she usually does what I say, if I manage to say it just right and make the right promises with it. But blondie-witch came to m'crypt each night. Some nights, back to basics, others she was jumpin' me before I could get the door open. I'm still not sure why she's doing it. She claims it's the demon part of her, but if that's the only thing drawing her to me, why doesn't she find a way to vanquish her demon side?

And why is this botherin' me so much? Slayer. Right. Red too. Either one of 'em found out what Blondie and I been up to, don't think there'd be much of me left to worry about.

"Bloody hell!" I snap at the harsh tug to my short hair and snatch her wrists in my hands, a bit too tight because the sodding chip fires and my brain is burning. I howl in pain and clutch my head - which, of course, leaves her hands free to do whatever she'd like. And how did the sodding chip activate anyway? She put that glamour up again?

"Spike?" she asks timidly, backing away toward the corner where she'd started. "I-I'll just g-go if you think that w-would be best."

I look up at her - don't know when I fell to my knees, musta been when the chip went off - and fight down a snarl. I close my eyes and say, through clenched teeth, "No."

"No, what? No, don't go, or no, don't stay?" She takes a couple steps toward me.

I sigh and push to my feet. "Know what? I don't know what's best, love. I'm thinking that this - whatever this is - with us is probably not the best idea, but you come to me anyway. You say it's the demon, but I've never heard of any kind of demon that has to get its rocks off by shagging chipped vampires. I do know that if your little Scooby friends ever find out about this, I'll be the pile of dust formerly known as Spike." I've scared her back to the dark corner. She should build up that confidence; wilted flowers are nice, but interaction and fighting back is more fun to play with.

Her head low, her hands by her sides, she seems to be trying to disappear into the darkness. "I'm sorry," she mumbles without stutterring. "I'll just go. Leave you alone. You won't see me again beyond Scooby stuff." She starts for the door and I don't know what to do.

"Tara-" she turns to me when I say her name, "-do what you like." I fall into my green chair and grab a nearby bottle. I take a swig and nearly gag, spluttering and spitting the vile stuff all over the floor as I stand up. I stare menacingly at the bottle - I’m sure it's very frightened now - then throw it against the wall. Of course, now I wish I hadn't, as the foul smell of week-old blood is permeating the room and the shit is congealing on the wall. It's really disgusting.

I turn around and she's standing right beside me, a hand on my shoulder. "A-are you okay?" she asks. God, why is she like that? Concern for all, living or dead.

"Bloody great." I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, still trying to get that vile goop off my tongue. I search around for a new bottle, find one, inspect it thoroughly - sniff the contents, swish it around, sniff it again, check the label - this bottle actually has one - pour a small amount onto my tongue. It tastes okay - like single-malt Scotch - so I pour it down my throat - still trying to get the week-old blood taste out of my tastebuds.

I suck down more of the Scotch, then I have to ask, "What is wrong with Slayer's mum?"

Tara stares at me in wide-eyed amazement or something, like she's afraid because I might know something.

"What?" I ask.

"H-how do you know s-something's wrong?" she asks in return, her cheeks blushing, I can almost feel the nervous heat from here.

"Saw her tonight. She looked upset. Only thing ever gets her like that is her mum, now Angel's not around." I look away, drink from the bottle again.

Tara swallows and puts a hand on my shoulder. "We don't know. She's supposed to go for tests tomorrow. Guess we'll know more then."

I nod. Wish I knew what to do. Tara pushes me into my ugly green chair (which is quite comfortable even if it is hideous) and kneels facing me. She leans in like she's going to kiss me, but brushes past my lips, licking just below my left ear before nipping my earlobe, then sliding her delicate tongue along my jawline to kiss my chin. Slowly, she makes her way to my mouth and kisses me - softly, tenderly, so different from what she has been doing. She takes my drink away, I groan as she puts it aside, then she pushes her slender fingers through my hair and presses light, feathery kisses all around my face.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, her voice thick and soft.

If I had a heart that beat, it would have leapt out of my chest. God, I never expected her to ask me that or anything near it. This is very nice. She's attending to nearly every inch of skin on m'face, but…

"You should probably go," I say, my voice very quiet.

She shakes her head at me. "Not until I know you're okay."

"Tara, just go. Red'll be wondering where you got off to…"

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, her face full of concern, her fingers hitting the right pressure points over my skull.

I put a hand on her cheek. "No, love, you did everything right. But, please, just go."

"If that's what you want." She kisses me again, lingering much longer than she ever has before, then slides off the chair. "I wish I could tell you more about Joyce, but that's all I know."

I watch her go; her skirts swishing around her feet; her hips swaying back and forth… All she knows? What was that about? She didn't tell me anything… or… hey! She must have shoved information into my head or something because there is stuff in there about Joyce now that wasn't there before…

Her wedding anniversary - her birthday - the big sale next week at the gallery - and - oh no -- no - that can't be - I wonder if she's told Buffy? I mean - yeah, Buffy told me her mom was goin' to hospital tomorrow, but not why. I don't think Buffy knows that part. But how did Tara? How did she know that? How could she? What kind of demon is she anyway?

God my head hurts. I get out of the chair and stumble down to m'bed and pass out.

Part III