Chapter Four

Turning Point

Much to his surprise, Spike found himself granted a brief reprieve over the next couple of days. Buffy must have realized how badly she had injured him, because she did not come by the next day, or the day after that. Spike did not even leave his crypt the whole time. The morning of the second day he was planning on going out to get more blood at sunset, but found his fridge restocked.

Tara, he thought with a smile. Usually he hated the idea of pity or needing anyone to take care of him. But somehow coming from Tara, it was all right. Let the girl play angel of mercy if she liked; she was awfully good at it.

So he just hung about the crypt, watching TV and allowing his battered body to recover. His estimate had been about right, and by the end of the second day, he was almost well again. His ribs were still a bit sore, but all his other bruises had faded away.

As the sun set, he climbed the ladder to the upper level of his crypt, having decided he felt up to taking a little walk. Being inside all that time was driving him crazy anyway.

"Finally, God!" The Slayer's harsh tone made him flinch, and he paused before going the rest of the way up, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever was to come. "Don't you do anything but sleep lately?"

"Also eat...watch telly...mend broken bones," he smiled, a small tight unpleasant smile, as he stepped onto the floor of the upper level. He was surprised at how un-thrilled he was to see her, even considering the circumstances under which he had last seen her. Usually no matter how she had treated him, his heart still leapt at the sound of her voice, filling him with a cruel, always-unresolved hope. Today, her presence was nothing more than an annoyance--if a dangerous annoyance.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he remembered again her cruelty from her last visit, and a chill of fear swept through him. Nothing but fear. He realized with a profound sense of loss that the enormity of the violation she had committed two days ago had broken him in more ways than he had realized. His love was at the very least buried by his hurt and anger--possibly not buried but--dare he even think it, after all this time?

No. He did not dare.

Buffy ignored his little jibe and said, "We're having a meeting tonight. In two hours. Be there."

He nodded, his head down, with a half turn away from her to adjust something on the counter that did not need adjusting.

The lack of attention to her was not something Buffy was used to, and she felt the need to do something about it. Her short, brusque tone had made him think that she was not in the mood to stick around, so he was surprised to feel her arms wrap around him from behind, one around his waist, the other lightly stroking up and down his bare chest.

He tensed, feeling a slight tremor beginning in his stomach.

"Feeling better, Baby?" Buffy asked in a low, husky voice filled with desire.

Forcing back a growing sense of revulsion, he swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Good," she said softly, leaving a trail of soft, hot kisses from the back of his shoulder around to his neck, then turning him to face her.

An instant of panic seized him, as he held his head to the side a moment longer, not wanting her to see the expression on his face, knowing that his traitorous eyes betrayed his heart every time. He was certain beyond all doubt that if his true feelings at this moment were revealed to her, he would not make it to the meeting that night; he might not even make it out, at all. Her rage on seeing such complete disgust and hate in his eyes would surely claim his life.

Knowing that he could not avoid facing her much longer, he made a quick decision and practically lunged toward her, capturing her lips with his own in a hard kiss, violent in its intensity. He had meant only to distract her attention, perhaps force her to close her eyes; instead his fury came out unexpectedly as he turned and slammed her hard against the wall, ruthlessly plundering her mouth with his tongue, teeth, lips until she pulled away with an effort, gasping for breath.

With a soft moan of pleasure that turned into a giddy laugh, she smirked up at him. "Wow! Somebody's ready to go!"

Emboldened by his own passionate display, he met her eyes with his old patented smirk, but did not respond. She did not have to know that for him the kiss had not been so much about pleasure as about ripping some shreds of his shattered dignity out of her grasp and taking them back.

A pout on her perfect lips, Buffy said, "We'll have to wait til after the meeting though. I have to pick up Dawn and take her to her friend's house before the meeting. I'm supposed to be there in like, 10 minutes."

He mimicked her pout with his own provocatively full lips. "Guess I'll just have to wait then, love," he said in a low, growly whisper that he knew was guaranteed to make her desperate with desire.

"Oh, God," she let out a frustrated little moan. "I need to get out of here or Dawn's gonna think I'm the worst sister ever!"

He bit back the retort, Too late, as she turned and hurried out the door, calling back over her shoulder, "See you at the meeting."

By the time he reached the meeting, a few minutes late, Buffy's mood had already gone downhill from when he had seen her.

Big surprise.

Willow was mopey because Tara was late, too, and she was beginning to wonder if she was going to show up or not, and kept sighing and looking toward the door. Xander and Anya were once again engaged in some minor sex-olympics event right at the table in plain view, and Buffy looked like she was about to lose it.

Spike was surprised when he found himself glancing toward the door occasionally as well, and realized that he was watching for Tara. Before he had time to wonder about that, though, Buffy's frustrated growl interrupted his thoughts.

"Is ANYONE listening to me?" she demanded angrily.

Xander and Anya pretended for a moment to focus on her, but then Xander reached under the table and Anya wrapped her arms around his neck again and they were un-focused again in a matter of seconds. Willow dragged her attention from the empty doorway for a moment, but then glanced back again.

"Wouldn't appear so," Spike muttered, a sneer turning the corner of his lip up.

Buffy shot him a warning glare which he failed to notice. At the moment his anger and resentment toward her were stronger than his fear. Buffy had never done anything to him in front of the others, so he felt reasonably safe.

"Come on, guys. This is important! Focus on something besides yourselves for two seconds please!" Buffy snapped.

"Yeah. Do as she says, not as she does," Spike could not resist.

And the next second he was staggering back under the force of a hard slap across his face. The others saw it happen, but had not heard the comment that led to it. Xander looked amazed and delighted, and snickered quietly. Willow had an expression on her face of shock, but acceptance--as if she did not know why Buffy had done it, but trusted that she had a reason. Anya was already reaching for Xander again.

The abuse and humiliation of the past few days had built in him until it was simply too much. A surge of anger overwhelmed him and before he knew what he was doing he had righted himself and pulled back his fist to deliver a blow in return.

At the last second, he stopped. He did not know if it was the remaining vestiges of his affection for her, or the blaze of menacing rage in her eyes that stopped his hand. But he did stop, meeting her eyes with a shocked expression on his own face, lowering his hand slowly.

For an instant before he dropped his hand, he thought he saw a flash of shock--and maybe a little fear--cross her face. But when she saw him back down, a slow smile crept across the Slayer's lips, as she took a couple of slow steps to bring her right into his face. Without even meaning to, cursing himself for his lack of courage, he took a step back away from her, dropping his eyes instinctively as she backed him up against the wall. Her presence held such power over him that all it took was a look to break him down.

Smiling cruelly, her lips so close that he could feel her breath on his face, she said in a voice too soft for the others to hear, her words slow and deliberate, each one a distinct threat and promise, "If. You. Ever. Raise your hand. To me. Again. You will beg me to kill you before I am through. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Spike?"

Fear coursing through him, trembling uncontrollably, he nodded quickly, his head down, just wanting to end the confrontation as quickly as possible, get her attention off of him and back onto the meeting. He glanced past her at the others and saw that Anya and Willow were both now watching closely with concerned expressions. Xander was smiling, a self-satisfied smirk that said that he felt this scene was long overdue.

He felt his face flush with shame as Buffy continued her threats, leaning in closer with every word. Finally, she seemed to be finished, as she gripped his shoulder with one hand and said softly, her tone mocking, patronizing, "Now if you don't mind, Sweetheart, you think we could get back to the meeting?"

The pressure was building and building in him, with her cruel grip, her tone and expressions that were both menacing and humiliating, the watchful eyes of the others in the room, until finally it was all just too much. With a burst of strength born of anger, he threw her arm off of him, stepped away from the wall and turned to face her.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled. "Have your little meeting! I don't care what you do! Do it without me!" And he stormed out the door into the night.

Buffy started to follow him, but Willow caught her arm.

"Buffy," she began, and when Buffy turned to look her in the eye, she saw a mixture of worried emotions in her eyes. "Wait. Sit down for a minute and calm down."

Buffy considered for a moment, and knew that if she left now in this state of mind, she would never hear the end of it from her friends. She could stay, put on a good front, give them some explanation for her actions that sounded reasonable, and catch up with Spike later. Because this was NOT over, she told herself. She did not have to go after him now. She knew where to find him.

As he stormed off down the sidewalk through flurries of fresh snow, he began to calm down enough to think about what he had just done...and a slow creeping terror began to come over him.

His legs seemed to slowly turn to jelly beneath him, and he staggered to a slow stop on the street, as the wind began to pick up, swirling the snowflakes around him. "Oh God," he whispered. "What have I done?"

He knew Buffy well enough to know that she would not just let this go. He was amazed that she was not following him now. He just had been unable to bear it for another moment, just had to get out. Any moment now, he was sure, she would come up behind him and knock him to the ground, and that would be it. She just might actually finish it this time. And he just might welcome it when she did.

"Spike!" a soft voice called, almost swept away by the swirling wind.

He looked about for a moment for the direction it was coming from, disoriented by the storm that was quickly coming up.

Then a gentle hand touched his arm and he whirled around defensively, his eyes wide and mouth open partially in a manner that made him look incredibly vulnerable.

Tara saw him visibly relax when he realized that it was her. "Aren't you going to the meeting?" she asked, smiling at him.

He did not respond. He was looking at the ground at her feet. That was when she noticed that he was shaking violently under her touch, and seemed almost as if he were in shock.

Drawing closer and taking both his arms in her hands, she said softly, "Spike? Are you ok?"

He shook his head slowly, still not looking at her. That was when she noticed his lip.

"Spike...you're bleeding," she pointed out, gently reaching up to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with her fingers. "What did she do?" Her voice was infinitely soft, patient, not pushing, not demanding.

"I--I tried to--I almost--" He looked up at her suddenly with wide, panicked eyes. "I tried to hit her, Tara! And then I shoved her and left! Oh, God, Tara, she--she's gonna--"

Tara did not need to hear anymore. Not right then. Her main concern was making sure that Spike was safe. She gently reached out and took his hand, opening it and placing something in it from her other hand.

He looked down at it blankly for a few seconds, not even registering what it was at first. When he realized that it was a set of keys, he looked up at her in confusion.

"Go to my apartment," she softly urged him. "Wait for me there. I have to go to this meeting. If I don't show up after what just happened, Buffy will get suspicious. I need to go ahead and go to the meeting, act normal, and I'll just meet you back there later. Ok?"

He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I can't involve you in this, Tara."

"She won't touch me. I'm human, Spike. She's not that far gone yet." But there was a concern in Tara's eyes that said she wasn't sure how much longer it would be before Buffy was that far gone. "I'll be safe. You can't go back to your crypt. She'll be coming there as soon as the meeting is over. You know that. Go to my apartment and lock yourself in. Ok?"

He just looked at her for a moment in that same stunned silence, and then finally nodded slowly. "Ok," he whispered, looking down again. Then he looked up quickly again, something just occurring to him. "Tara...how will I...?"

"Spike...I invite you into my apartment," Tara said softly, meeting his eyes with her own, full of sorrow and compassion. "Go on, now, hurry. This storm is getting bad," she urged him, giving him a gentle push down the sidewalk as she went on toward the Magic Box. She turned around and called back, as an afterthought, "You'll have to let me in! That's my only set of keys!"

He nodded his understanding and turned around to go. She smiled to herself in satisfaction; there was no way now that he would change his mind, knowing that she was counting on him.