Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, and all others with legal ties to Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the owners of the characters portrayed within this story. Meaning, I'm just borrowing them for a bit.


Knowing Willow and the rest of the Scoobies wouldn't like it didn't matter to Tara because she was always a person, unlike the majority of people in this world, who concerned herself more with what was right than pleasing the crowd, and Tara worried what her actions would say about her at the end of each of day. She was, if nothing else, a person of integrity but even Tara knew she was more than that. After Buffy's death, she saw the desperation in Dawn's eyes and immediately placed herself in the role of primary caretaker, along with Spike, a role for which Willow and the other Scoobies were unprepared. Willow, Xander, and Giles were so intensely focused on their own grief that tending to Dawn was frequently ignored by everyone except Spike and Tara, but Spike was no more fit to take care of the girl than any of the others. The difference, Tara thought, was that Spike would keep his promise no matter how much pain he felt and never indicate there was a problem, but that was the very problem Tara and Dawn found themselves discussing in the hours between Spike's return to the crypt and Willow's getting up for the day.

The funeral, held at night for Spike's sake because Dawn and Tara insisted, was too brief as though none of them knew quite what to say to Buffy, "Thank you. I miss you," was so inadequate considering the dead slayer's sacrifice. When the slayer's former enemy moved forward to speak, Tara found herself furious as Xander tried to stop the vampire, and she quickly stepped between the two men and encouraged Spike to speak his mind. His words touched Tara more than anyone else's had as he choked on his sobs and said, "Keep my promise, pet, always," but the worst part of it was that he hadn't said a word since that night. Tara and Dawn seemed the only two aware of the quiet and deepening depression surrounding the once sarcastic, always ready to argue over anything, and now often drunk 'Big Bad'. Still, there were moments when she suspected everyone knew and didn't care. As long as Spike and Tara dealt with Dawn, the others wallowed in their own personal sorrows and guilt and were content. Unsure of whether to be angry with her friends or sympathetic to their loss, Tara did what she always did and comforted everyone but herself.

Spike's lack of communication bothered Dawn most; Tara understood, and the two girls spoke of the subject in hushed whispers while making plans to help him though neither of them was certain of exactly what would help. The witch instinctively knew spells weren't the answer and made Dawn understand the same, but it was hard not to want the quick fix-the answer that solves all of life's hardest problems. She struggled also with the fact that she was happy. Oh, Tara missed Buffy and suspected her friend would understand and even approve, but Goddess, what she wanted more than anything was to share the joy she felt simply having known Buffy Anne Summers. Most of the time she just wanted to let the others know she was grateful for finding a new family. Slowly becoming like a second mother to Dawnie whom she adored, Tara loved her new sense of belonging. Since Anya was hardly interested in parenting, and Willow, to Tara's surprise, was absorbed with her own emotions to the point of selfishness, slipping into the role of nurturer had been natural and easy. Despite Tara's personal confusion, her mind kept coming back to Spike and what to do for him. She'd seen the changes in him before Buffy's death, but it was the changes she saw happening now that mattered more, and his constant devotion to his promise gave Tara hope, but she wanted more for Dawn and for Spike. 'He might not realize he needed comfort,' she'd say to herself, but she saw it more each day as he withdrew further from the group. Tara feared he'd become insubstantial, ghost-like, something of a servant to whom no one paid attention even though it was Spike keeping a constant watch over Dawn from the first shades of twilight to the last slivers of moonbeam. He even left presents for the girl, hidden in odd places, but Dawn always found them and Tara would see the vampire watch the girl surreptitiously to make certain whatever little trinket Dawnie found made her smile. 'One Goddess blessed moment, Tara thought, 'to at least make you smile for a moment or two,' but Tara and Dawn were the only two to see or care that he connected in those brief seconds.

As Tara thought about all she'd seen, she wondered if thinking was her problem and action is what was necessary. Spike certainly wasn't one for waiting around to see if an answer just came to him, and the idea of him doing so made the girl chuckle to herself. The pretty, soft-eyed young woman looked around the kitchen and decided to start a load of laundry when it hit her, yes, it might just work. Gathering cleaning supplies from under the sink and several trash bags, Tara quickly tossed them into a laundry basket and made note to get the broom and dust pan from the basement. Mentally listing all the necessities for cleaning a home, it was simple, she almost laughed to think this idea came from her own culture-something people in her hometown did for anyone suffering difficult times. Since Tara was from the south, she'd gotten used to cleaning many homes when neighbors or extended family members died. Certainly the women at her father's church cleaned their home and prepared meals after her mother's funeral. Joyce's SUV was parked in the garage and rapidly loaded by the young woman intent on her chosen task, and she thought it might also be a good idea to pick up fresh blood for Spike. She even wondered if there was a dish she could make for him and laughed again, "Oh yes, country ham with blood gravy! Maybe blood biscuits too," Tara said and giggled wondering what her father would think if such a dish was served at the next church pot luck. She decided to start with the cleaning and pick up the blood later.

Driving up to the cemetery gates, she parked just as the sun finished rising and pale rose hues left the early morning sky. Tara admired the architecture surrounding her, felt how peaceful the place was serene was hardly the word she used to describe it at night but now it fit. She also liked the quiet, the minute she had to reflect on her life, the lives of loved ones, and the unexpected happiness she found. Spike's crypt suddenly loomed over Tara, but that too made her smile in the morning light, and when Tara smiled worlds glowed. She glowed. No, it wasn't the same as Buffy's fire, but she had a quiet grace that settled about people and encouraged them to be at ease. Gentleness and the ability to accept no matter what the person's faults, was her gift. Tara would do her best to give Spike a bit of what he gave Dawn each night, someone.

On the plus side, she knew Spike would be here since Dawn was with Janice and her family this Saturday morning, and Tara, always striving to treat others as she wanted to be treated, knocked on Spike's door quietly, "Spike? It's T-t-tara, open the door, please?" she stammered yet again cursing her stutter.

To her amazement the door cracked open the tiniest bit to reveal Spike hidden beneath a blanket. He motioned for her to enter his crypt but didn't say a word to the girl. Tara didn't allow herself the luxury of feeling disappointment because she had work to do, and surveying the scene, she realized the work would most likely take all day long. She thought Spike might feel embarrassed by her seeing the condition of his home, not that he'd ever been Martha Stewart, but who was? 'Oh well,' thinking to herself, 'I'll try and help without making him feel worse. Maybe he'll come around.'

Blood bags, empty liquor bottles, half eaten food, and take out boxes littered any once clear surface. It looked like a roving band of frat guys on a lifetime kegger had taken up residence in Spike's home, but the most disturbing part wasn't the mess to Tara. She thought Spike himself was the saddest creature she'd ever seen. Sitting in his armchair, watching his TV, it looked slightly normal until you looked at the TV and realized he was staring a blank screen.

"I'll be quick, Spike, as quick as I can. You j-j-just relax," she said to him not expecting an answer, "Dawn w-wants to come over tomorrow, and you won't have to w-worry with the mess yourself now, okay? When my m-mother died, there was always someone over t-t-to cook and clean the first two weeks...did I tell you that? It's what we do there, and I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

With a mind that never stuttered, Tara rapidly began bagging trash, organizing what few shelves she found, sweeping, and dusting each surface. The crypt smelled horrifying, but she never cringed in disgust over the rancid, half consumed bags of blood lying, the rotted food lying around around or the stale booze bottles, and she worked diligently until all that was left was laundry. It took her six hours to complete the work, and Spike never moved in all that time, but, determined, Tara refused to walk away and just leave him alone to stagnate until it was time for him to come over and be with Dawn. She eyed the results, pushed her hair out of her face with a dirty hand, and smiled only to catch Spike watching her.

She thought he looked curious, and she grinned directly at him, "Th-the clothes, Spike, I'll bring them back a-a-after they're CL-clean, okay?" she asked, "You don't have to s-s-say anything, just nod."

The last thing the woman expected was Spike to stand and walk to her, and as he stumbled toward the floor she ran to catch him. They crashed onto the hard surface together, and Tara winced at the cold beneath her but didn't push away the person Xander always called a stupid and evil monster. 'That's got to hurt,' she thought, 'being called stupid by someone lacking a lot of common sense,' as she cradled the demon once vicious enough to kill two slayers, countless humans, and who now seemed more human to her than Xander or Giles, but she supposed their indifference to another's suffering and grief is what made them seem less. She felt Spike's sobs shuddering through both of them as Tara continued to rock him and whisper, without stuttering, "I'm here, let it out, it's all right now, we'll help each other, you have Dawn, you have me, we'll help you, you have to let us help now, you're a part of my family too," she said this mantra again and again until William the Bloody fell asleep. As the hours drifted, she thought about all Spike had given Buffy, Dawn, the group, and even her. Without him, she'd have gone through life believing she was worthless and evil, but Tara understood not only that there are degrees of evil in the world but that supposedly evil people are capable of change.

When Spike woke, the daylight was just slipping away into shadows that promised pleasure or pain, and Tara felt him tense slightly under her hand stroking his hair, but she continued singing an old lullaby, taught by her mother and left over from a long dead south, "Hush a bye, don't you cry, go to sleepy, little baby," and was surprised to hear Spike clear his throat.

He sounded hoarse and tired when he uttered, "Ya din't have ta stay, pet, but thank you."

Tara watched Spike sit up and face her, and she smiled sadly at him saying, "You're my friend. Dawn and I need you."

Spiked suddenly jumped up and offered Tara his hand, "All right then, luv, let's get my Bit and go home." Tara smiled and helped him gather her things, and she couldn't help but think, once more, that she was lucky and happy.