CrossingShadowRiver 15

Spike's pacing Dawn's tiny living room, revving up, swinging into thinking mode, which lasts a short while and comes right before action mode. His duty is clear. He should have trusted his instinct about the thrall thing right away. If he really trusted Buffy he would have. Although he still couldn't have gotten in. His train of thought is broken when Dawn plucks at his sleeve.

"What?" he says brusquely.

Dawn flips her hair, which doesn't work as well as usual, as it's still dripping London rain, and bites her lower lip. Can she please get on with it?

"We need another witch, Spike. Either we have to lift Buffy's thrall, or we have to disable the disinvite. Who'll help us?"

At last she's using her brain instead of her hormones, and it's a considerable one, as he well knows.

"Can't trust anyone in the council, Nibblet," he says thoughtlessly, forgetting he hasn't called her that in years.

Dawn makes a strangled sound. "Nibblet? Is that still how you think of me? As a sexless little girl? Is that why you wouldn't…"

Jesus. Just when he thought he'd headed off any more discussion of her sodding feelings.

"Not now!" he snaps. "I'm busy thinking of a plan, Dawn. Go dry your hair or something."

Dawn's composure dissolves. She lifts a wet face with wobbly lips up to him and he's kissing her before he can decide not to.

"Oh Spike," Dawn sobs against his lips. "I love you so much, and you didn't…and now we have to help Buffy, we can't…"

What the hell is he doing? Spike steps back hastily, propping the unsteady Dawn up with one hand and with the other finding a tissue in her handbag.

"Here," he says, his voice shaky. "Blow."

Dawn rubs her face with the tissue and then looks at him, her eyes full of more tears and reproach, but she manages to keep them in. Shit, that was close. He really didn't mean to kiss her, so why did he end up doing it? He's flaking out, just when he shouldn't be distracted from his main purpose. Their working together is such a risky proposition. He loves Dawn like a brother, maybe a little bit more for a few embarrassing weeks, but he's always been afraid that love only needed a little shove to push it into sexual territory. Last night almost was such a moment, but the deliberate quality to Dawn's actions was off-putting rather than seductive. Now he stares at her white face and folded arms and feels a right tosser for everything, snapping at her, kissing her, not going on with it. Everything he does is wrong.

Dawn turns away from him, rummages in her handbag and comes up with another tissue. She blows her nose hard and looks at him, her eyes full of reproach.

"I need you with me," Spike says hastily. "I really need your help here, Dawn. We need to rescue your sister. Think. Did the other Spike say anything else? Anything to give us a clue?"

Dawn sniffs. It's a letting go of decorum that makes her very vulnerable and Spike is even more ashamed of himself, and at the same time more attracted. What's wrong with him? He should be hurrying back to Buffy, not be interested in Dawn's blatant wiles. Apart from her glaring lack of maturity and feeble hold on reality, she's Buffy's sister, for God's sake.

"He said something like, hello sweet Nibblet, and I was so relieved, I thought he did know me after all. But then he said stuff about me giving him babies, and it was obvious he was not all there. He's a vampire, how could he ever give ma a baby? As if I would ever touch him, disgusting dead rotting thing. I don't understand how Buffy could have been taken in, or why she let him in."

Spike has heard enough. There are so many things in that statement he doesn't want to think about. Buffy must have had a good reason to let the other Spike in, he's sure. He's not going to let him have her, or his baby, or Dawn. They're all his and his alone.

Dawn steps away from him and he heaves a tiny sigh of relief. She's so warm, so sweet, it would be so easy to try and forget the present miserable circumstances for a few minutes and find some comfort. He can't understand why he's still thinking of this every other minute when he's so perfectly clear on what he wants, namely Buffy and his child. And kill the other Spike, slowly.

"You were saying about the Council?" Dawn says in a brittle voice, trying hard for business like.

"Right." He tosses his cigarette butt and rakes his hands though his hair. "We can't be sure that they haven't all been briefed by Willow, or that they wouldn't report to her if we asked them to help us. Is there any one of them you know personally?"

Dawn shakes her head. "I'm still in touch with some of the scholarly types, but not with any of the witches. I know there's this big coven in Devon, but I never met any of them."

"We could try and see if Giles and Andrew have contacts?"

"Andrew's still in Oz. I'd rather not get Giles involved in all this again, he's getting a bit old for this, don't you think?"

Dawn seeks his eyes, but he refuses to give her the contact, keeping them fixed steadily on his hands.

"Tara?" he proposes hesitantly.

Dawn wrinkles her nose. "Wouldn't she be in on everything Willow does? And I never feel at ease with her anymore. She's always so…flaky."

"She didn't used to be. When Willow brought her over, nine years or so ago, we had some good times. Reminiscing, filling in. I could really talk to her about the soul. But you're right; lately she looks at you as if she hardly knows who you are."

There's a silence. Not as if you can just look up a witch in the phonebook.

"Tara, then. At least she might point us to a friend. Willow's probably still at her office. I'll phone first to be sure."

In the cab, Dawn seats herself as far away from him as she can get and stares outside. Spike tries to do the same, but it's painful to see her so dejected and alone. Better to run the risk of getting too close than staying safe and far away. He can do this, this is nothing to do with Buffy.

"C'mere," he says gruffly and Dawn lifts a wan face to him. She hesitates and then slides over and crawls under his arm. Tears start sliding down her face. She grips his hand fiercely and stares straight ahead. Spike swallows hard, and pats her soft shoulder. The sheer warmth of human beings never ceases to touch him. All that busy life working away in there, the fire he warms his cold dead hands on, the fire that keeps him anchored in the world. It should be Buffy's, she burns hotter and brighter than any of them, but Dawn can be a substitute to hold him steady. Temporarily.

They wait an unconscionable time for the door of Willow's posh flat to open.

"Y-yes?" Tara stammers after opening the door a tiny crack. "Who're you?"

"Tara, it's Dawn."

"Who? Oh, right. Willow isn't back yet."

Dawn rolls her eyes at Spike. How can Tara have difficulty recognizing her? Is she on medication or something? Willow's never said anything.

"We'd like to talk to you, Tara. Is that all right?"

"Ye-es," Tara says doubtfully. "Come in, I guess."

Spike gets the feeling she doesn't even know he's a vampire. He gets a better look at her when they follow her into the living room. She's heavier than he's ever seen her before. She never was one of those stick thin girls like Willow or Buffy, but this isn't charmingly curvy, this is just plain overweight. Her dress doesn't quite fit her; she looks pasty and middle-aged. She smells of bad nutrition and despair. Again, the effect of medication?

Tara halts and turns. "Oh. I'm such a bad hostess, I forgot to ask what you'd like. Coffee?"

Her voice. Her voice is so different from the one he remembers. He can hear a distinct southern twang, even if he can't place the exact state it's from. Her hair is frizzy and wavy from a perm growing out, and he's never seen Tara, original or mark 2, with anything but straight hair. She likes to dye it, but never changes the texture. He's speaking before his mind has finished the thought.

"How long have you been here, Tara? When did Willow get you from you own dimension?"

Tara starts guiltily and looks at them with big terrified eyes. "Willow said…Willow said never to tell anyone." She wrings her hands. "I don't know what to do. She's been so kind to me, but I…"

She sinks down on Willow's crimson suede couch and stares at them helplessly. Her purple dress clashes violently with the red.

Dawn gulps from beside him and he can just see that brain of hers making leaps and bounds. She sinks down on the couch beside Tara and stares at him. "My God - Spike. There's been a whole series of Taras over the years. There must have been. I can see it now. The first one was from a dimension where all the events were really close to what happened in ours, but whenever Willow needed a new Tara, she had to start fishing in dimensions further and further away. Oh my God."

Tara on the couch wrings her hands harder and harder. She's leaving red streaks on the pale skin of her plump hands. "Why would she do that? What happened to the other Taras?"

"I think I can guess," Dawn says matter-of-factly. "My bet is that all the Taras kept breaking up with Willow because she abuses magic and personal boundaries. Remember, Spike, before you got the soul?"

Spike sees Tara start at that. "Yeah, I do. You're probably right." He thinks for a moment. "Alright, Tara, why don't you come with us? We can't leave you here for Willow to find. We don't know what happened to your alter ego, and let's hope it's nothing as bad as I'm thinking right now, because we can't take the risk. Are you a witch?"

Tara flushes a brick red. "How did you know?" She sounds frightened.

"Our Tara was a good witch. The one who died a long time ago. And not a demon, if you happened to be worried about that. We need your help. Have you ever met Buffy?"

Tara shakes her head mutely. "Willow told me about her. She's married to a vampire. Umpgh!" She shrieks a ladylike little shriek and tries to disappear into the couch. "That's you! Is that you?"

"Yeah," Spike admits. "But I'm a good vampire, a vampire with a soul."

Dawn pats Tara's arm. "It's okay, Tara. He's safe. He hasn't killed a human being in over ten years."

Tara's hand lies on the solid shelf of her bosom and she pants rapidly. "Really? That's very…comforting."

Dawn gives Spike a quick look. "Tara, why don't we go pack your things? Spike can wait here. And he's really not scary anymore. He's going to be the father to my little niece or nephew."

Spike grits his teeth and paces up and down nervously on Willow's pale shag while the women are away. The urge to fly apart at the seams, to start blindly yelling and killing things is overwhelming. He needs to keep it together, keep a cool head. Mere violence won't help Buffy at this point. Later, when they're inside, he's going to tear that bastard apart limb by limb, wrench his head off, then burn him to ashes and grind him into the carpet. How dare he lay those filthy hands on his Buffy! She's his and only his. Did Willow deliberately import him from another world to throw a spanner in the works? It can hardly be unrelated to what they've discovered here.

Dawn and Tara come back. Dawn has her arm around the other woman and keeps up a stream of chitchat.

"So you never went to college in California? You never met Willow?"

"No, I had to stay home and look after my dad and brother. It was expected of me. I took some classes at a community college, though. I just never had the time or money to get a degree."

No wonder Willow managed to convince her to come with her, all the way to another dimension.

"Tara, did Willow mention that this is another dimension? Did you see her using a device?" he asks.

Tara throws him a skittish look. "Yeah, she has this ring she always wears. She twists it, says a few words and a portal opens. It's her responsibility to monitor the portals."

"Uh-huh. So how does she appease the Gatekeepers with all that travel she does?"

"Gatekeepers? I don't know about any Gatekeepers."

Spike exchanges another long look with Dawn. He does hope it's not what he thinks. Even Willow wouldn't be that callous, would she?

In the cab back home, Dawn maneuvers herself between him and Tara. For Tara's sake, he hopes. He shifts his leg from where it's mindlessly slid against Dawn's shapely trousered thigh. He firmly fixes his eyes on the busy streets outside and tries to think of Buffy. Her body was riddled with bites and bruises, so the other Spike must have been with her for days at least, maybe more. He sees the other thrust into her again, and thinks of what he has seen. Buffy's allowed him to drink from her, a thing he's never even thought to ask for. Does that mean he didn't want to, or has he been too humble to even dare mention it? Does he want to now? He doesn't know. He leans his forehead against the grimy cab window. Life sucks.

"Tara? We need your help first to rescue Buffy, but we'll try to get you back to your own dimension afterwards," Dawn says.

Tara blushes again. "I - I don't know about that. Do I have to go back? One of the reasons I came here with Willow was because she made me see who I could have been. Her Tara went to college in California, she was slim and pretty and smart. I I'd been stronger and stood up for myself against my family, I could have been that person, don't you see? Willow was going to help me sign up for college and all."

Clever Willow, to latch onto the unhappy and unsuccessful ones, who'd be more easily persuaded to leave their lives. Or, kind Willow, to offer help and love. If only they knew what happened to the other Taras.

TBC