***Spike and Tara have a little chat.

***Thanks to Trisha (Keeper of Truth, Slip of Mind, etc.) for offering me some insights into improving my fic. Thanks.

CHAPTER 23

He stood in the bottom of the steps, arms tensed at his sides restlessly. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he ran his fingers through his tussle of blond hair. He peered out into the night sky; some of it still blanketed by the gray clouds while small patches of stars were now becoming visible through the migrating clouds. He sighed audibly, pinching another cigarette from the pack stashed in his inner pocket. He twirled it around in his fingers, admiringly, before situating it between his lips. He had already disposed of two fags since slipping away, his mind desperately inhaling the nicotine, depending on the substance to rid him of the familiar sense of failure that seemed to follow him where ever he went.

He ignited his lighter with a growl and was lost in the orange life of the flame. It danced and swayed in the slight breeze that whispered through the night, flickering as if it would cease its litany of movement, only to take it up once again with a renewed vigor. He laughed humorlessly. As much as fire reminded him of the all too fragile existence of life, strong and passionate one moment and burned away in the next, the stubborn flame before him was more akin to an unpleasant memory. They were formless and danced with the selfsame seductiveness, unable to be captured, refusing to be extinguished and flaring up when you had thought they had been stamped out. It was then that you discovered they would continue to burn until they consumed you. And Spike was slowly being devoured by the inferno that was his ineptitude.

So lost in his thoughts, the vampire didn't sense the timid figure that walked out the door and onto the porch. She stood there, unsure of what to do or say for several minutes, watching tendrils of smoke rise from his lips into the cool night air. His head was tilted toward the sky as if he was searching for an answer. It wasn't until he cocked his head to the side that she knew she had been discovered.

"Come to watch me, luv, or do you have something to say?" he asked flatly. A year ago, such a tone would have sent Tara back into the kitchen, stammering out an apology. But she had changed a lot in a year. Then again, she really didn't have much of a choice, being a Scoobie pretty much required constant change and adaptation to things.

"I--I," she stuttered out, her nervousness not a result of his tone, but her insecurity as what to say. She took a deep breath and forced the determination to the surface. "I came to see how you were doing," she offered as she walked up behind him. She rested her right hand on the banister and winced at the dull ache still present in her shoulder. Yeah, after all this was over, she had to get to a doctor. She dropped the injured arm to her side and leaned back against the banister. She studied the sharp contours of the vampire's profile in front of her. Though not of the heterosexual persuasion, Tara wasn't blind. The sharp angles of Spike's cheeks coupled with his piercing blue eyes gave him the look of a beautiful assassin, alluring yet deadly. But there was something else too that he tried so desperately to hide with his all too often scowls and grunts of indifference. Despite his commonly feral temperament, there was a softness about him that he rarely showed. If it wasn't for her observant nature, Tara doubted she would have ever discovered that side of him. As it was, she only saw it whenever Buffy walked into the room or when Dawn presented him with that hero-worship smile of hers. Even in his grief during Buffy's absence, he'd let his guard down anytime he heard his Nibblet laugh, which hadn't been too often. But there had been one other time he had shown it and even in her haze of pain, she had seen it. It had been the day in the Magic Box when her family had returned to take her back. Though he said he like her father for his chicanery into convincing her she was a demon, he had shot her a furtive glance, smiling at her with his eyes. She had thought she imagined it then but as she spent more time around him, she knew it wasn't a trick of the light.

"Doin' fine, luv. No need to worry," he returned, and tossed the used up fag to the ground, smashing it with a booted toe. Tara didn't reply and Spike felt her gaze intensify ever so slightly. He cocked her an annoyed look, running his hand through his hair (again) before growling at her.

"Something, I can help you with, Tinker?" He tried to get angry, just so she'd go away but one look into her eyes and he knew she wasn't going anywhere. Besides, he had no right to be angry, what with this all being his fault.

"What is it?" She asked as her brow furrowed in concern. She could feel the constriction of his body, like he was going to jump out of his skin. She knew it had to do with Dawn but his insecurities were rooted much deeper than his Nibblet being taken.

"Hmmm, let's see," he said sardonically. He sighed loudly, his hands propped on his hips as he craned his neck to the sky, this time in mock indignation. After a few moments, his eyes found hers and the raw concern that stared back at him was almost enough to disarm his angst. But almost wasn't enough.

"Aside from the fact I was almost a neat pile of dust earlier? Or the fact that the love of my life and un-life will have the poofter's child and I still trail at her side only to die by her hand? Which is not a bad way to go, I might add," The last part was said so casually that if she weren't more aware of the being in front of her, Tara would have missed the hurt in his voice. "To top it off," he added, "I manage to sh…to tie the slayer up so long in patrolling that lil' sis gets nabbed." He searches her intently before culminating his rant. "Anything else I forgot to mention?"

He stalked off, further into the yard, hands thrust in his pockets. Tara watched him for a few minutes, empathizing with him. It had been a rough two weeks for the vampire as Buffy had confided in her that she had ended her 'relationship' with him. He had been devastated, of course and had made himself scarce, other than patrolling or watching their backs. But she had caught them earlier and knew it was only a matter of time before Buffy realized what Tara had a while ago. She had been the only one Buffy trusted to talk to about everything and had spoken to her on several occasions after the break-up. The shrill tone of Buffy's voice and her morose attitude was a dead giveaway what she was feeling for the vampire.

She truly cared for Spike. But Tara knew it wasn't as simple as that. As strong as Buffy was physically, emotionally, she was quite vulnerable, a trait that strengthened her resolve as 'Queen of Denial' more than anything. She had intimated to the slayer that maybe if she changed the dynamics of her and Spike's relationship, things might workout. But all she saw, at least in her words, was Spike as a soulless demon who'd quite possibly go on a killing spree the second the chip was out and it'd be Angel all over again. Sometimes Tara wondered if she knew Spike better than even Buffy did. She had seen the vampire a lot over the summer and the way he had been affected by her death. It didn't help that for the first few weeks afterward, Xander had all but spoken his resentment of the vampire failing Buffy. And then one night, Xander had let all his feelings go, ripping into Spike for his ineptitude in keeping Dawn safe and Buffy from dying. Tara had seen the sheer agony his words had caused Spike as the vampire had left the shop. She had been the one to reach him then, following him to Buffy's grave where he cried and, after awhile, she walked from the shadows and joined him in his grief, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. They never spoke about it and it was all still fresh in her mind. That was why she knew what it was that plagued him now.

Tara made her way down the rest of the steps and slowly walked up to him. She stood in front of him, looking up into his pale eyes.

"It's not your fault," she said softly. Spike looked at her dazed. What did she mean by that? How did she…?

"What are you babblin' about, luv?" He asked, his tone shakier than he would have liked. He nervously raked his pockets for his pack of fags, only to come up with an empty pack. "Bugger," he muttered to himself and started back toward the house when Tara's hand stopped him.

"Spike," she pled and this time he noted the genuine concern in her voice. It stopped him in his tracks as he waited for what she had to say. "You can beat yourself up all you want but it won't make a difference. All it will do is eat you up inside, consume you with guilt you shouldn't feel. And in the end," she grabbed his hand for emphasis, "it's only going to hurt you when they need you most." Spike glared at the woman holding his hand in disbelief. What did she know? She didn't know…but she did. Tara always had. Ever since the confrontation with her family, he knew she saw him in a light apart from all the stories she had been told about him. Then, there was the scene in the cemetery. In some ways, he felt more at ease around her than anyone else. Though he tried his damnedest to maintain his 'Big Bad' persona, Tara wasn't fooled. And it was that reason he felt no shame when a tear trickled down his pale cheek.

"If we hadn't…" he began but faltered. He hoped Tara didn't catch that. "If we'd have been here sooner…"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Tara assured. "Besides, that's not the only thing that's bothering you. You still haven't forgiven yourself for Buffy dying."

Spike reeled at the last sentence. She was right. No matter what he did, no matter how much he rationalized, a part of him would always feel guilty for failing Buffy on that tower. Though she had been back for several months now, he still sometimes had the same dream where he saved her in so many ways. Other times, he'd dream about how he'd fail her next time. But he never did anything half-assed and when he failed, he failed miserably. Just like that spring night. Just like tonight.

"Spike, it wasn't your fault. This isn't your fault. And if you're looking for me to tell you how bad a person you are, or how this is your fault…you're talking to the wrong person." Tara said as if reading his thoughts. The last was said with an air of finality that produced a wan smile from the vampire.

"You're right, Tara. I know you are. It's just that sometimes…"

"You still see yourself as evil and if anything bad happens, especially to the people you care about, it has to be your fault." It wasn't a question. Spike only smirked at the woman's perceptiveness.

"When did you get so bloody introspective, Tinker," Spike asked playfully.

Tara gave him her disarmingly sweet smile. "Always have been, you guys just never seem to ask me about things."

"I never asked you," he said giving her the raised eyebrow.

"Well…that's not the point, is it?" She replied and gave the unsuspecting vampire a warm hug.

Spike stared down at her before he awkwardly returned the embrace. After a few seconds, they stepped apart. Tara noticed Spike's insecurity as what to do next. He looked at her with the sheepish face of an eight-year-old. She smiled and patted him on the arm before walking to the door.

"I'm about to head back in," she called to him then stopped, remembering something. Spike turned to look at her questioningly.

"And Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"Everything'll work out. Everything," she smiled wistfully before resuming her walk back into the house, the door closing slowly behind her.

Everything'll work out? Spike thought, staring at where the blond witch had just been. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration. What did she mean by that? She had said it with such an air of confidence that he had no doubt that she knew something. Hey just didn't know what that 'something' was.

Shaking the thought off, Spike returned his gaze to the slowly clearing sky. Tara was right. It wasn't his fault that Dawn had been kidnapped; just like it wasn't when Buffy died. He cringed at the still all too raw thoughts of failing Buffy…no, he didn't fail her. He had done his best, all things considered. Was it his fault that it hadn't been good enough? His mind knew the answer was no but his heart had yet to be convinced.

***This chapter was hard for me to write for some reason. I wanted it to convey something that would linger for the rest of the fic. I think I got it right.

***Part III will be up as soon as possible. Most likely Wednesday. Possibly Thursday. I don't wanna rush it.