Chapter Thirteen

Insecurity

Tara stormed into her apartment, slamming the door behind her in a rare display of frustration. Tossing her purse on the counter she headed for her bedroom. Spike was sitting on the loveseat, unnoticed by her in her emotional state. He immediately got up to follow her, concerned.

"Tara? Love?" he asked softly, following her into her room. "What is it, Pet?"

She was lying across her bed on her stomach, her head resting on her arm, gazing bleakly toward the wall. She did not answer him, but when he drew nearer, he could see the silent tears that streaked her soft face.

"Tara, what's wrong, love? What's happened?" he entreated, kneeling by the bed at her side and gently taking her hand in both of his before lifting one of them to her cheek in a comforting manner, gently thumbing away a tear.

Slowly she pulled away, turning as she sat up a little, facing him with an expression in her eyes that frightened him. She simply looked at him for a moment, tears still flowing. Then she said softly, "She did it again."

He was confused. "Who, love? Buffy? What did she do?"

Tara shook her head. "Not Buffy. Willow."

Spike felt his blood run colder at the words, because now he knew what had happened. Tara had gone to see the other witch this morning, to find out about the resurrection spell...and Willow had taken the opportunity to mess with her mind again.

He rose quickly, fury in his eyes, ice-blue and ice-cold. "I'll kill her. Where is she?"

"No, Spike," Tara insisted, pulling gently but insistently at his hand still in hers, pulling him down to sit beside her on the bed. "You can't. And I – I don't want you to." In spite of how Willow had hurt her – again – there was still the fact that some small part of her would always love Willow, no matter what, just as some part of Spike would always love Buffy. Besides, there was also the whole "killing people is wrong" fact, and the whole "if Spike tries to hurt Willow the chip will make his brain explode, if she doesn't do it first" fact.

The only one of these reasons that occurred to Spike was the first one.

His eyes widened in hurt and confusion as they searched hers. Unsatisfied by what he saw there, he stood abruptly and walked toward the heavily curtained window, gazing sideways through the crack in the curtains, out into the midday sun.

Now Tara was the one who was concerned. She rose and slowly walked to stand behind him, putting a soft hand on his arm. "Spike?" The word was a question.

He said nothing for a moment. Then, without turning, he said in a voice low with restrained anger, "It's all well and good to tell me to stay away from the fire, so I don't get burned. But when it comes to you, love...not quite the same, then, is it?"

Tara's eyes widened with realization. "Spike..." She began, reaching out, turning him to face her. "I have no desire to be with Willow." Her eyes urgently sought his, needing for him to see the truth in her eyes. "I want you. I want to be with you."

He met her eyes for a moment before looking down at the floor. Finally he whispered, "I would never hurt you."

Tara's eyes flooded with fresh tears at the heart-felt emotion in his voice. "I know," she whispered back, reaching up to trace the exquisite lines of his face with her fingertips. "That's one reason I love you so much. But only one," she smiled, dipping her head, trying to catch his eye again, and this time he allowed it, with a small sheepish smile in return.

"Sorry I'm such a jealous git, love," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and speaking into her hair, his head on her shoulder. "Just can't stand the thought of losing you...or of you letting Red hurt you, or anyone else for that matter."

"I know," she whispered, reaching up to run her fingers gently through his hair. There was a long pause, before she gently pulled away and led him back to sit with her on the bed again. The look on her face told him that she had something to say, so he just looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak.

When she finally did, her voice was low, soft, measured, speaking of very deep, barely controlled emotion. "Before I met Willow...everyone I was with...every man I was with...hurt me. I came to just expect it from men, to hurt me. Then I met Willow, and she..." She paused, searching for words, a small wistful smile on her lips that faded into pained remembrance. "She was...well, she was just...Willow...you know?"

Spike did know. The Willow he had first known was sweet, unassuming, had a way of making you feel comfortable just because she was in no way intimidating. She was...just Willow.

Tara continued, "She was so sweet to me...she made me feel...special. For the first time in my life. And I thought...maybe that's the problem...maybe men always hurt you...but Willow...I could never have pictured her hurting me...ever...and she didn't. Not until after she brought Buffy back...Something changed then, Spike." She shook her head sadly. "And she wasn't the same person. And I found out that she could hurt me...worse than any man ever had, in fact."

Spike sat silent, listening, holding her gaze intently, not sure where this was going.

"Then...I found out...what Buffy was doing to you..."

His gaze faltered for a moment before he bravely forced his eyes back up to hers.

"...and I did a lot of thinking...and I realized...it's not that men hurt you and women don't, or vice versa." She smiled softly at him, reaching up to touch his face again. "It comes down to this...real love doesn't hurt. If a person is hurting you, and not caring that they're hurting you... it's not love. It's selfish. It's about what they can get from you. And the more you give and give to try and keep them, to make them love you...the more they feel like it's ok for them to take from you...you have to cut it off. You have to expect more for yourself. Accept nothing less than someone who loves you...just as much as you love them." Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and her smile grew until it was blinding.

Spike felt his own eyes well with tears, but they were not the bitter, painful tears he had spent days shedding lately. "I love you, Tara," he whispered, putting his hand behind her head and gently stroking the back of her neck, leaning in closer to her. "I love you so much."

"I love you," Tara whispered, meeting him exactly in the middle of the space between them, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, despite the fact that Spike had no reason to be.

A sudden thought occurring to him, Spike asked, "Not to break the mood, love...but...how did you know she'd wiped your memory again?"

Tara frowned at the memory. "She didn't wipe my memory. She read my mind. She..." she shuddered. "She saw...us...last night...what we did."

Spike's eyes widened in horror. Tara rushed to reassure him, "Don't worry, I...I took it back."

"Come again, love?"

"I...did a spell to take back the knowledge she took from my mind. She doesn't remember anything she read in my mind. She just thinks when she tried to it didn't work for some reason."

He paused, frowning thoughtfully. "You're sure it worked, then, love?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Tara nodded certainly. "She doesn't remember what she saw."

"Good," he sighed softly, pulling her into his arms, holding her close to him. He could feel the tension in her body and knew that she was not yet recovered from the experience. "I'm so sorry it happened, love," he whispered to her, his voice husky with emotion. "I wish I could have stopped it."

"I'll just keep my distance from her," Tara murmured, tears in her voice. "Just have to stay away completely." They sat like that in silence for a while, before she finally added, in a voice that showed much more composure, "I don't know how we're going to find out more about that spell now, though."

"Where's she keep her spell books and such?" Spike asked, his breath gently rustling her loose hair pleasantly, as one hand softly trailed through it.

Tara looked up at him darkly. "I'm not exactly sure, but I'm assuming it's somewhere at Buffy's house...where she lives," she said pointedly. "And Mr. My-middle-name-is-breaking-and-entering, you are not taking a risk like that!" There was no compromise in her eyes.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a voice and expression of mock-fear.

She smiled and leaned back against him, nestling comfortably against his chest as he leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes. Suddenly they opened wide again. "I just had an idea," she declared, pulling against his cradling arms and getting up, despite his whimper of protest.

"Hope it's bloody important, love," he grumbled.

She just smiled as she reached for the phone on her dresser. She dialed a number and listened as it rang.

"Hello?" a voice chirped on the other end of the line, loud enough for Spike to hear it from the bed.

Tara smiled conspiratorialy. "Hey, Dawnie."