A/N - Random one-shot alert! Just a Spike/Tara moment at the Bronze (hence the title...lol). I have always thought there was potential for Spike and Tara to be great friends, but it didn't play out on the show the way I would have liked...thank goodness for fanfiction! Please read and review.

P.S. This is set shortly after Tara's birthday in Season 5. And even though this is a Spike/Tara friendship fic of sorts, there is some Spuffy in there if you look really closely.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine; don't sue. Simple enough?

Bronzing It

This is nice, Tara though idly as she sipper her drink. The Bronze was full, a great deal of the patrons U. of Sunnydale students jazzed it was finally the weekend, and she was enjoying watching the enthusiastic dancing going on at the center of the club. Watching, not participating. That was kind of her modeus operandi; always on the sidelines. She looked for a flash of Willow's read hair in the swaying crowd, but couldn't spot her girlfriend - or any of the accompanying Scoobies, for that matter - in the mass of moving bodies.

Turning back to her drink, Tara found herself musing on her acceptance into Willow's circle of friends. For once in her life, she fit in. She had actual people who paid attention when she talked. And unlike her blood family, the Scoobies and Co. didn't think there was anything evil or demonic about her. Spike proved it.

Spike...Tara felt a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Secretly she consider him her knight in black leather and would always be grateful that he was willing to punch her on the nose to prove her humanity. Both Xander and Willow had delighted in telling her horror stories of the resident non-bitey vamps pre-chip days, but she simply couldn't reconcile the image of the Big Bad with the Spike that she knew.

Of course, she could've been shortsighted in that regard. She hadn't exactly been around for any of Spike's more evil escapades. But still, he didn't seem that bad to her. She would even go so far as to say that he was nice. In her fledgling days as a Scoobie, when her extreme shyness was still an issue, he'd gone out of his way to make her more comfortable and to draw her out of her shell. He always made sure to acknowledge her presence and include her in conversation. And she loved (though she would never admit it to others for fear of ridicule) that he'd given her a nickname. Glinda. He called her Glinda and every time she had to control the wild grin that threatened to break out across her face.

She'd often wondered why he was so accomodating of her until she overheard Buffy asking him much of the same thing during a briefing at the Magic Box. He said simply, "I can relate. William was a poet, remember?." Apparently Buffy did remember, because she didn't say anything else about it. But Tara was left confused. Who was William and what did he have to do with her. Maybe he was someone Spike had known before his days as the Slayer of Slayers.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize there was someone standing behind her until a voice jolted her back to reality. "What?" She turned, finding herself face-to-face with a young, dark haired man. He smiled and gestured towards the empty chair next to her own.

"I asked you if that seat was taken. Is it?"

"Oh, uh...erm..." she stammered, her tongue refusing to work for some reason. Sure, she had come leaps and bounds towards overcoming her shyness but talking to complete strangers still threw her for a loop.

"Great!" This particular stranger exclaimed jovially, not waiting for her acquiesce before claiming the chair for himself. "I'm Donovan, by the way." He told her and extended his hand.

"Um, Tara." She managed to get out, shaking his hand gingerly.

"So, 'Um Tara', you here alone tonight?" He questioned, his already broad grin widening. There was something...off about his expression. The toothy smile didn't reach his eyes, leaving the dark irises cold.

"Actually..." she began, but was interrupted.

"That's awesome," Donovan said with a wink, "'cause you seem like just the type of girl I'd like to get to know. But it's really too loud in here for proper conversation, don't you think? How 'bout we go somewhere more...private?"

What?The wiccan thought incredulously. What type of girl does he think I am? He barely knew her name and he was already trying to lure her somewhere more 'private'. "I don't really think..."

"Oh come on," he chortled, "it'll be fun." And with that he grabbed her hand and began tugging her away from the table and towards the exit, keeping a firm grip on her appendage to ensure they didn't get separated.

Don't go with him! Say something, her internal monologue shouted. She was angry with herself for not putting up more of a fight, but it seemed as if her brain had lost all control of her actions so she allowed herself to be pulled along. She scanned the crowded dancefloor, trying in vain to spot Willow, Xander, or Anaya. But there was no one. She was on her own.

"Uh...but I, and...erm..." Why wasn't her mouth working? What could she do to get away? Spell!, her tiny internal Tara yelled triumphantly. She was prepared to light a small magical blaze in the palm of the hand clutched in Donovan's , but was saved the trouble when her captor's path was blocked by a wall of black leather.

"Spike." Tara sighed his name in relief.

"Well, hello cutie." The bleached vamp smirked. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I..."

"We were just heading someplace a little quieter, actually." Donovan spoke over her.

Spike's head cocked to the side as he studied the other man. "Really?" He quirked a brow and turned his blue gaze on Tara. "Decide to see if the grass really is a tad greener on the other side, Glinda?"

"No." She shook her head emphatically, tugging on her still entrapped hand in an attempt to free it.

"Oh?" He turned back to Donovan and frowned. "Doesn't seem like the little lady here is too thrilled about your company, does it?"

"That's really none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." The Brit countered. "You see, I know you're a vampire," Tara's eyes widened comically at the news that her pursuer was a member of the undead, "just like you know that I'm a vampire. And you think that I'm just trying to horn in on you dinner, right?" Donovan nodded reluctantly. "But I'm not, really. If you had picked any other bint to munch on, I probably would've let you drag her off without a second thought. But you had to go and set your sights on Glinda and that's just unacceptable."

"Why do you care? What's so special about her?" Donovan asked challengingly.

Spike studied Tara for a moment as though he was really contemplating what could possibly be special about her. She shifted shyly under is intense stare and he smiled. "I don't have many mates, you know. I'm the 'lonewolf' type meself. But Glinda here is a bit of the alright, always been nice to me. She's a little too quiet for her own good, though. Doesn't really stand up for herself, lets people walk all over her. She needs someone to stick up for her once and awhile and that someone just happens to be me tonight." Spike explained. "So, I care. How 'bout you let our lady friend go, hmm?"

"What if I don't want to?" The clearly younger vamp took a brave, if not stupid, step forward, finally releasing Tara's hand.

Spike produced a stake from the inside of his duster and twirled it once before plunging it into Donovan's chest. "Then I do that."

As the dust settled on the Bronze's already dirty floor, Tara breathed deeply in relief. "Thank you."

"'S no trouble, pet. Was my pleasure. Little less violent than I normally like my kills, but I can look passed that."

"Well, I'm glad." The witch smiled shyly. "Can I buy you a 'thanks-for-saving-my-life' drink?"

"Why Glinda," Spike's infamous smirk fell perfectly into place, "are you flirting with me?"'

"Oh...umm," a deep blush spread across her face. "I didn't..."

"Relax pet, I'm just teasing you." He laughed and Tara was struck with the question of how someone dead could look so alive. "And a drink, provided it is heavily alcoholic, would be lovely. I've got nothing else to do tonight."

The odd pair made their way to the bar where Spike ordered for them. They were already seated at Tara's previously abandoned (and somehow still miraculously free) table before she realized that he had paid, too. "Hey, I was supposed to buy you your drink!"

"Sorry, love. Old habits die hard. Victorian gentlemen and all that, right?" Something - although she didn't know what - about Spike's excuse caused Tara to remember her earlier musings of her vamp companion. Deciding that the time was ripe to solve the mystery called Spike, she turned to him and took a deep breath.

"Spike, who's William?"

"What?" He choked on his drink. The look on his face was indescribable; a mixture of confusion, trepidation, and...pain. Why would the mention of William cause him pain?

"William..." Tara said uncertainly. Maybe now wasn't the right time after all. She scrambled to explain herself. "I overheard you and Buffy talking once. She asked you why you were so nice to me and you said something about how you could relate to me because of a poet named William. I was just wondering who he was. You don't have to tell me, though. Not if you don't want to. I mean, it's probably private, right? I'm just being nosy and..."

"Slow down, Glinda." Spike cut across her rambling, smiling slightly. "The only other person who has ever asked me about William is the Slayer. I'm not angry that you asked, just surprised is all."

"Oh...good." She expected him to immediately launch into a descriptive narrative about the elusive William, but he wasn't so forthcoming and the pair sat in a somewhat awkward silence until finally Tara couldn't take it anymore. "So, are you gonna tell me about him or not?" She blurted, her cheeks once again staining a dark pink.

Spike chuckled at her outburst. He set his drink on the table and turned his full attention on her, opening his mouth before shutting it abruptly. He did this two more times before finally speaking. "William is - well, was - me. A long, long time ago. Before I was a vampire."

"Oh. So William was you...when you were human?"

"Yeah, that's the gist of it."

"And he was a poet."

"More like he wanted to be a poet. He wasn't very good. Bloody awful, in fact."

"So," Tara was slightly confused, "you and William are two completely different entities?"

"Yeah. I'm me. Big Bad vampire and all that rot." He gestured to himself dismissively. "And William was a proper British gentlemen. All manners and proper grammar and a nancy boy accent. A bloody wanker if I do say so myself. He wasn't good for anything. Couldn't even write a sodding haiku to save his life."

"So that's why." Tara murmured in comprehension.

"'So that's why' what?"

"That's why you can relate to me, because you used to be shy, too."

"I've never been shy." Spike corrected. "But William was."

"Right." Tara conceded, even though she didn't think Spike and William were as separate as he wanted them to be. In fact, thinking back, she was sure she had seen Spike's more William-esque side of several occasions. He was definitely more William-ier when around with Buffy's mom, Joyce, and her sister, Dawn...especially Dawn. He was even less Spike-ish when interacting with Buffy herself. Maybe it was just something about the Summers' women that brought out the softer side of Spike. "Can I ask you one more question?" She said hesitantly as a random inquiry zoomed through her brain.

"Depends. You're not going to ask me about Willy boy's poetry, are you?"

"No," she denied, "I just wanted to know why Buffy ask you about William."

"Just something to talk about, I guess. Gets a little boring on patrol when there aren't any beasties running about and we gotta pass the time somehow. Sometimes we play a variation of 20 Questions." Something flickered in Spike's eyes, but it was gone too quickly for Tara to identify it. "Bet I know the Slayer better than any of her friends do."

Before Tara could delve any deeper into the enigma that was Spike and Buffy's relationship, they were interrupted by three breathless Scoobies. "Tara, come dance with us!" Willow panted happily before taking notice of her girlfriend's drinking buddy. "Oh, hey Spike."

"Red." He acknowledged with a nod.

"What's up?" The computer nerd turned mega-witch asked. "Looking for Buffy? 'Cause she's not here. She's out with Riley."

"Right, the boyfriend. He's the tall fellow with the personality of a bit of cardboard, yeah?" A shadow once again passed over the vamp's eyes, but again, it was too quick to be labeled.

"Yes, he is quite dull, isn't he?" Anya said bluntly, earning a chuckle from the only undead member of the group.

"Ahn!" Xander scolded. "Riley's our friend."

"So? That doesn't make him any more interesting. Giles is our friend and I find him incredibly dull." The ex-demon replied.

"Anywho," Willow shot Anya a disapproving glance, "did you need Buffy, Spike? I could call her cell if there's monster badness going on."

"No, there's no need to disturb the Slayer on her night off. I just stopped in for a drink, but I think I'll be going now. Off to pummel my fellow demons and the like." With a small salute, he turned to leave but didn't make it far before Tara grabbed hold of his duster's sleeve.

"Wait. What about the drink I owe you?"

"Some other time, Glinda." He tapped his finger under her chin and smirked. "'Til next time, pet." And he was gone, his black coat billowing behind as he slipped through the crowd on his way to the door.

"That was...odd." Anya mumbled while studying Tara. "Since when are you and Spike such bosom buddies?"

Xander didn't wait for her reply. "You owe Evil Dead a drink? Why do you owe Evil Dead a drink."

"I guess 'cause we can relate to each other." She said softly, still peering in the direction that Spike had disappeared. Finally turning her attention to her friends, she could have laughed at the confused looks on their faces.

"Huh?" All three inelegantly grunted.

"It's not important." The quiet witch explained. She wasn't going to tell the others about Spike and William. And without divulging that particular tidbit of information, she couldn't exactly tell them how she and Spike 'related'. So instead she stood and began dragging Willow back towards the dancefloor. "Now, who said something about dancing?"

A/N #2 - That's it! This little story totally had a mind of it's own and simply wouldn't leave me alone. It wound up a lot longer than I intended it to be, too. I hope you enjoyed it! Please read and review.