Chapter Nine

The Ugly Truth

When Tara opened her eyes in the morning, she had a brief moment of confusion; she didn't remember going to bed. Wait...she thought, feeling an oddly comfortable weight across her chest and stomach. Looking down at the vampire sleeping with his head on her chest, she smiled softly. That was because she hadn't gone to bed. Not really.

She thought back on the night before, and Spike's inevitable emotional breakdown. She had held him for a long time while he cried it out, doing her best to comfort him. Eventually his tears had ebbed, and she had tried to get him to tell her what exactly had brought them on. He just clung to her, not willing to raise his face to meet her concerned scrutiny, or to answer her question. So she did not push him, just held him, reassuring him with her words and her touch that he was safe now, that no one could hurt him, that she was there for him.

At some point her back had tired and she had lain back on the pillows, pulling him down with her. When her voice had tired, she had just continued to hold him, one arm around him where he lay across her chest, and the other gently toying with his loose golden curls.

She frowned slightly in contemplation at the broken, vulnerable, beautiful creature before her, and again began unconsciously running her fingers through his hair. He stirred slightly under her touch, nestling into it in his sleep. Was it normal for him to sleep as much as he did? she wondered. She wondered if vampires developed coping mechanisms for trauma the way humans did. If so, that was possibly what it was.

Her thoughts turned again to their conversation the night before, and his reaction. When she had gone back in her mind to try to find some reason for his deep emotional response in what she had been saying, the only thing she could really latch onto was the bit about being treated like a thing. Hadn't he said something about that, that first night when she had come to help him in his crypt? About being nothing but Buffy's plaything?

She sighed, troubled, looking down at him again. Had anyone besides her ever treated him as anything more than a thing? she wondered. Certainly none of the Scoobies...well...maybe Dawn. She remembered that terrible summer of Buffy's death, and how close Dawn and Spike had gotten.

She thought wistfully that it might be good for Spike to be able to see Dawn again. As much as she wanted to help him, it could not be healthy for him to become dependent on her alone for companionship and affection. But no, she reminded herself. Letting Dawn in on the situation was too dangerous. As much as she sometimes seemed otherwise, Dawn was still little more than a child, and Tara was unwilling to trust Spike's life to her ability to keep a secret. Not to mention the doubly-troubling thought of what knowing what Buffy had been doing to her friend would do to the girl.

Things were complicated enough for her without throwing in, "Oh, yeah, Dawnie...by the way your big sister has been screwing and beating your best friend."

Glancing at the clock, Tara sighed. It was time to go and face the working world. Gently she shook Spike, wanting to be sure he was ok before she left.

"Spike...Sweetie...wake up," she murmured, and he slowly, sleepily, raised his head.

"Mornin', love," he mumbled, laying his head back down.

"I've gotta get up and go to work, Honey, you're gonna have to find another pillow ok?" she chuckled softly, gently pushing him off of her.

"'K," he whispered, almost asleep again already. Gently she pushed him over so that he was on his back, with his head on the pillow, and tenderly tucked the blankets around him.

"Listen to me for a second, ok?" Tara softly said, bestowing a gentle caress on his cheek.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, saying nothing. The expression in his eyes was wary, tentative; she knew he was worried about the night before. She could read the questions in those fathomless blue depths...had he crossed a line? Had his emotional outburst been more than she was willing to deal with?

Needing to reassure him, she smiled warmly at him and said, "I'm going to work and then after I'm gonna stop by your crypt and pick up some of your things. OK?"

He nodded, visibly relaxing.

"Please stay here today. OK?" Tara made it a request, not an order. Even with his life at stake, and the very real fear in her that he might decide again to go back to Buffy, she could not let him think of her as another controlling, authoritative person holding his life in her hand, turning it whatever way she chose. It had to be his decision; all she could do was try to ensure he made the right one.

He nodded slowly, after a pause, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Promise?" she pushed just a little.

His hesitation made her glad that she had, but then he nodded again, and she read the promise in his eyes. He would keep his word to her.

The first thing Tara noticed when she reached his crypt that afternoon was that the door was wide open.

Buffy. She had been there at some point last night, and Tara guessed darkly that she had probably been extremely displeased to find it empty. She walked through the door, and stopped short, surveying the scene around her.

Utter and complete chaos and destruction. What meager furniture Spike had managed to collect was totally trashed, broken pieces scattered about the upper level of the crypt. The refrigerator door had been ripped right off its hinges and flung twenty feet from the appliance itself, and in a macabre display that made Tara feel sick, his stock of bagged blood had been emptied and formed a sticky, congealed puddle near the base of the fridge.

Tearing her eyes away from the gruesome sight, Tara forced herself to descend the ladder to the lower level of the crypt, almost afraid of what she'd find.

But she would never have expected what she did find. The huge bed which took up most of the room was in pieces; from the look of it, Buffy had taken an axe to it. She shuddered, relieved that she had gotten Spike out of there before Buffy arrived. But what arrested Tara's attention was the small, huddled, trembling figure curled into a ball amidst the broken pieces.

Dawn.

"Oh, God, Dawnie!" Tara gasped, rushing to take the trembling girl in her arms.

But Dawn pushed her back as she sat up, meeting Tara's gaze with wide, shell-shocked brown eyes. Wordlessly she held out a sheet of paper to Tara. With a sense of dread, Tara unfolded the paper and read it.

Spike--

I'll be back tomorrow night and you had BETTER be here!

The note was not signed, but Tara knew who had written it before Dawn's shaking voice spoke, "It's Buffy's writing."

Tara was at a loss for words; what could she say to help Dawn understand what was going on? Her anger at Buffy rose as she thought of this poor child, walking in here expecting to see her friend and instead finding his home ravaged and destroyed, and the terrible shock she must have had on realizing that it was the work of her sister. She grimaced with the memory of the sickening pool of blood on the floor upstairs.

So much for protecting Dawn, Tara thought ruefully.

She tentatively reached out to Dawn again, and this time she let her hug her. "Oh, Dawnie," she whispered, the ache in her heart showing through in her voice.

It must have spoken of her knowledge, because Dawn pulled away a little, searching her eyes, some of that fire in her own that Tara knew so well.

"Did Buffy really do this, Tara? Did she...?"

Tara met Dawn's eyes and decided on honesty. Dawn had seen enough to deserve the truth. She nodded slowly.

"She...she wants to hurt him...doesn't she?" Dawn said, looking around the room again. "Why?"

"I don't know, Dawnie," Tara's answer was truthful, as she sadly shrugged her shoulders. "It's complicated."

Dawn looked back at her with resentment in her eyes. "Yeah, relationships are always complicated aren't they?" she shot back, a challenge.

Tara could not keep the surprise from her expression; so Dawn had known about Spike and Buffy's relationship...for how long?

"I'm not stupid, you know. But I guess it's still just too complicated for me to understand..."

"Too complicated for me to understand," Tara clarified. "Too complicated for Spike or Buffy to understand too."

"Do you think...you don't think...she..." There was fear in Dawn's eyes now as she looked up at Tara anxiously through tear-filled eyes, again changed from the eyes of a righteously indignant woman to those of a frightened child. "Where do you think he is? Do you think he's all right?"

Dawn had no way of knowing that Tara had the answers she was seeking; she was just a scared little girl, looking for reassurance. And Tara could not withhold it from her.

She nodded again, not breaking Dawn's gaze. "He's safe, Dawn. He's all right."

Realization rose in Dawn's expression, with just the hint of a smile about her lips in her relief. "So these past few days...he hasn't been around...I was kinda scared...he's always there, ya know?" Tara nodded. "He's been hiding?" Dawn continued, her eyes widening again in disbelief, still trying to wrap her mind around the situation. Shaking her head a little, looking off to the side, she finished in a whisper, "From Buffy? Buffy would hurt him that bad?"

Tara didn't have to say anything, just held the girl and let her talk it out, working it out in her head as she did.

"Of course she would," Dawn suddenly answered her own question, her words coming slow and quiet with new understanding. There was a bitter twinge in them when she continued, "She did before, didn't she? All those times he said he got hurt patrolling...it was her...wasn't it?"

This time her eyes demanded confirmation of the ugly truth she did not want to accept. Tara nodded again.

"Where is he?" Dawn asked urgently.

"Someplace safe, Dawn. It's probably better if you don't know, Sweetie. That way there's no chance that Buffy could..."

"There's no chance," Dawn said emphatically, anger rising in her tone. "If I ever speak to Buffy again she'll be lucky!"

Suddenly concerned, Tara broke in, "No! No, Dawnie, see, that's the thing! You have to act normal with Buffy! If she knows that you know anything about this, she won't quit until she finds him! And Dawn...Sweetie...if she finds him..."

She didn't have to finish. Dawn was already nodding slowly in understanding. "Ok. I won't let on. Shouldn't be too hard," she snorted. "I never even see her anymore, she's always working, or slaying, or...or... beating the crap out of my best friend...or screwing his brains out, whichever mood she happens to be in!" The words were spat out with such venom that Tara flinched.

Dawn must have seen the concern in Tara's eyes, because she sighed. "Don't worry, Tara. I won't let on. I'm a pretty good liar when I need to be." Another challenge in dark eyes that had seen too much of pain and confusion today. "I want to see him, Tara." The words were emphatic, more so when accompanied by the cross of her arms across her chest.

Tara regarded her evenly for a moment, searching her eyes. Dawn already knew enough to be a threat, if she chose to be careless with that knowledge. And somehow, Tara did not think that she would. And it would mean so much to Spike...

"Ok," Tara decided with a nod. "Ask Buffy if you can stay the night with me tonight. I think a little slumber party might do us all good."