Chapter Twelve

Betrayal

The first thing Tara saw when she awoke this time was a pair of wide, impossibly blue eyes gazing at her, watching her sleep. As soon as her own made contact, they were quickly averted, but not before Tara could read the emotions and questions they held. Would Tara still want him after what she had seen the night before? Was the night before just a terrible mistake to her, a result of her own loneliness and hurt? And why shouldn't he wonder? How many times had Buffy slept in his own bed, holding him as Tara had, in the hours following their fervent embraces, only to be gone in the morning, or worse, be there to reject him in person?

But a good's night rest had done nothing to dissuade Tara from her feelings of the night before. She was not sure where her relationship with Spike would end up, or how everything would turn out, but there were a few things she was sure of. One was that he needed her desperately right now, and another was that she wanted him just as badly.

And she knew that she loved him.

She was not yet sure if she was in love with him, yet anyway, but he had begun to consume her thoughts in a way that no one but Willow had ever done. And now in the faint morning light that filtered through the curtains, when he was the first thing she saw upon waking, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

So she did. Slowly, tenderly, as if he were some fragile thing that might shatter if too much pressure were applied.

And isn't he? she reminded herself, with a promise to herself, God, I'm gonna be so careful not to hurt him! He's been hurt enough for several lifetimes.

And in the next moment, he took her in his arms and returned her kiss with an intensity that made her wonder if she had accidentally spoken her thoughts to him, and he was trying to disprove his fragility. As she wrapped her arms around his body, already halfway on top of hers, she could feel her own body responding to his touch.

Then a soft clatter from the kitchen drew her attention away for a moment. Dawn.

"Oh, Spike," she sighed resignedly. "We'd better check on Dawnie."

His sigh echoed hers as he responded with good-natured annoyance, "Right, then. Can't leave a fifteen-year-old to herself for ten minutes." He frowned, as if realizing the implication of those words as to his own stamina, and amended, "Or…thirty."

She was relieved to find his humor in good form, as she was by the relaxed pressure of his body on hers. Obviously she had already answered at least a few of his questions.

Tara's soft giggle was musical, balm to his bruised, healing emotions, and he hugged her tight for a moment, before she reluctantly pulled away. "I invited her here, and she's here to see you. We can't just leave her to her own devices."

He sighed in defeat, laying his head down on her chest, his hands on her sides. With a mischievous glint in her eye, taking advantage of his relaxed and therefore vulnerable position, Tara rolled quickly over, reversing their positions so that she was over him. Brushing her body lightly over his as she leaned up toward his lips, parted slightly in surprise beneath widened eyes, she whispered, "Besides…Dawn's not here every day… we have all the time in the world." Her slow, sultry smile alone was enough to arouse him, even without the soft, barely there touch of her body. She leaned in to give him a slow, languorous kiss, before rising slowly to leave the room.

He took a moment to process what had just happened as she walked out into the living room. He realized suddenly that he was breathing hard. He would never have imagined that such a seductive goddess resided in the sweet, meek girl that Tara usually appeared to be. He sat up, and just sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the moment in his head again.

Tara was unlike any woman he had ever known. In his life he had had two great loves… Drusilla, and Buffy. Drusilla was unique in her madness…by turns infuriating and irresistible to him. But as any romance between two vampires, their love had revolved around sex and pain. Drusilla often demanded gentleness…if not verbally, by her very vulnerability…but never gave it. She had been a wild creature in her strongest moments, ravaging him completely…and he had loved every moment.

Buffy had been his obsession for the past several years. Everything about her had driven him mad with desire. And when he had finally found himself in her arms, he had felt like the luckiest creature undead. And at the heights of their passion, there had been moments of complete ecstasy, when he had been allowed to lavish his love upon her for a few brief moments. But always in the end, she had rejected him, making his relationship with her…if he could even call it one…a jarring, painful roller coaster ride of impossible heights and devastating lows.

Never had he known a woman like Tara. So soft, so gentle and loving, yet strong and possessed of a primal power that rendered him helpless to her touch. Everything he had known for 120 years had been pain, death, bloodshed, even the best moments of pleasure threatening to leave him torn to pieces in their wake. But Tara was tender, and soft, never pushing, never demanding, just covering him again and again with her unselfish, freely given affection, and startlingly beautiful words of love.

You are so incredibly beautiful to me. The words rang in his head still, and he shook his head a little in disbelief. No one had ever told him he was beautiful before. He had heard many complimentary things from his lovers.

You're so hot, Spike.

No one touches me like you do, Spike

Oh, God, do that thing with your tongue again, Spike

But, beautiful? Never.

"Bloody hell!" he whispered, shaking his head, a slow smile creeping across his face. "Buffy who?"

When Tara entered the kitchen, Dawn was standing at the sink, washing the dishes they had used for their take-out the night before.

"Um…did I wake up in some alternate universe?" Tara teased, picking up a dishtowel and joining her. "Cause this can not be reality!"

"Ha ha," Dawn smirked, a strangely smug sparkle in her eyes. "Sleep well?" Her tone was innocent, and her laughing eyes were carefully focused on the glass in her hand.

Tara shot her a dark look, trying to sound casual, "Sure did," she responded calmly. Then her girlish desire to spill got the best of her, and with a glance toward the door to be sure Spike was still in the bedroom, she smiled. "Very well."

"Oh. My. God. You guys didn't…" Dawn looked shocked. After all, it was only last night that their status had been "just friends".

"No," Tara replied, casting Dawn a reproving look. "we didn't. But…there was significant kissage…no…significant…um…"

"Making out?" Dawn supplied helpfully

Tara smiled and nodded. "You could say that."

"So…" Dawn continued, her curiosity getting the better of her sense of icky wrongness at wondering what kissing Spike was like. He was like her big brother, after all. But she had not just been trying to build his confidence when she had told him he was hot. A girl couldn't help but wonder about these things… "what was it like?"

"Um," Tara stuttered, blushing furiously. "Let's just say…the boy really knows how to…um…"

"Please a woman?" Dawn supplied helpfully again…just as Spike walked into the kitchen.

Tara's face turned beat red, and Spike's mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smirk. Tara's soft, affectionate words meant the world to him. Still it didn't hurt to be assured that he still had the touch. He had inferred all he needed to know from Dawn's last comment.

Seeing his satisfaction, Tara's embarrassment faded and she smiled. "Exactly," she replied, the word loaded with meaning as she gave him an appreciative glance as he reached her and put his arm around her casually.

"So you gonna talk to Willow today?" Dawn asked, not realizing the implications of the question until after it had left her mouth.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, before Tara nodded in a resigned way. "Yes," she nodded firmly, turning to return Spike's sideways embrace almost without thinking about it. "About a couple things."

These days, the best place to find Willow was the Magic Box. If she was not making a purchase, she was delving into the books, and not the ones for sale. The ones that Anya kept upstairs, away from the prying eyes of those too inexperienced to know what they were dealing with. And that was what frightened Tara; Willow knew exactly what she was dealing with.

And she chose to deal with it anyway.

Today, however, she was sitting at the table on the main floor, intent on whatever book was opened before her.

"Will," Tara began tentatively, and Willow looked up with a brilliant, hopeful smile.

"Hey, Tara. What's up?" she said, too brightly.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Tara asked, nodding her head toward the training room.

"Sure," Willow seemed a bit flustered, as if this was the last thing she had expected, and Tara cringed inwardly. Though she was not looking forward to it, before this conversation was over, she was going to have to make things clear to Willow—make her see that the reconciliation she was hoping for was not on the way.

Once the door was closed behind them, Tara jumped right into her topic. "Will—I need to see a copy of the resurrection spell you used to bring Buffy back."

Willow frowned, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Why?" she asked. "I mean—again? What for?"

"Well—Buffy just doesn't seem…herself…lately, and I was wondering if maybe…there was something in…in the spell…"

"So it's my fault again!" Willow's voice was full of hurt and resentment. "Buffy's in a snit for a few days and it's all Willow's fault, for dragging her out of heaven!"

Inwardly Tara recoiled from the childish, pouty tone and words. Had Willow been like this all along? Had Tara really never noticed before how self-centered and immature she could be?

"No, Will, that's not what I'm saying. It might be nothing, but…I would just like to see it…you know, to be sure," she tried to explain, deliberately keeping her annoyance out of her voice.

"Well," Willow said reluctantly. "Ok. How about I come over tonight and we'll go over it together…" Her voice was too hopeful; Tara felt extremely uneasy.

She took a deep breath. "Um…Will…I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Something regretful and hesitant in her tone alerted Willow to the fact that something was wrong. Her eyes fearful, she said in an almost whisper, "W-why not, Tara?"

Tara could not meet her eyes at first, though she felt the other girl deserved at least that much. "I—I don't think it's a good idea for—for us to be—seeing each other any more. At all."

Willow's eyes widened, suddenly flooded with tears. "Tara…Tara why? What did I do? Tara, please!" Her hand reached out and took Tara's desperately, seeking her eyes.

With a force of will Tara met her former lover's eyes. She frowned slightly at the expression in Willow's eyes. An instant too late, she realized that Willow was not merely looking in her eyes, but deeper.

Before she could react in any way, Willow had snatched her hand from Tara's with a startled, strangled little cry, her eyes widening in shock. Then, pain and betrayal filled her eyes as she whispered, "Tara…how could you…?"

Tara's eyes darted up to hers again, fiery with anger. "No, Willow. How could you?" she demanded, her voice quiet. "It's not your business to go intruding in my thoughts." Her own voice suddenly tearful, raised in frustration, she added, "My God, Will, why do you think I broke up with you in the first place? Do you still have no idea why that is just wrong?"

Willow was not even hearing her words. Her face was contorted into a sneer of bitter disgust. "I thought you were better than that, Tara. How could you stoop so low?"

Tara's heart leapt up into her throat, both with the pain of the cruel words in the mouth of one who had once held her heart, and with the realization those words brought.

Oh, God, no! Tara felt panic rising in her. There was no way that Willow would keep what she had seen a secret.

"Will…" she began, reaching out to catch her arm.

But Willow yanked free and opened the door to the Magic Box.

After a moment's ethical dilemma, Tara made a quick decision. She considered that a slight invasion of Willow's mind--just a small spell to take back the stolen knowledge Willow had gained by reading her mind--was the lesser of two evils, compared to allowing her to reveal Spike's secret and get him hurt or killed. Besides, it would be nothing more than taking back what was hers.

Under her breath she whispered the Latin words to snatch her own stolen thoughts back from her former lover's mind.

Now hyper-aware of any magical activity around her, her mind swollen with ill-gotten power, Willow mentally saw the spell coming before it took effect, and with mere force of her will deflected it, while simultaneously setting in place a small glamour so that Tara would not know her spell had failed.

Not so wrong when you do it, is it Baby? she thought resentfully to herself. Don't worry; I won't be telling Buffy your little secret. She stalked out of the Magic Box, her eyes darkening with cruel purpose. This is personal now.