Chapter Seventeen

Breakdown

Spike searched Tara's eyes, confused by her question. "What do you mean, love?" he asked, drawing close to her and putting his hands on her hips.

Fire blazing in her eyes, refusing to allow herself to be distracted, Tara gently but firmly pushed his hands off of her. "When Buffy is back to herself again…what will you do? You know she's not fully responsible for some of the things she's done to you…you loved her once, more than anything. Where does that leave us?"

His eyes widened in understanding. Then, those sapphire eyes, so expressive as always, narrowed in a look that stung her with its hurt and anger. "Right here, love," he replied, his face inches from hers, speaking with barely bridled fury. "Won't move us a bit. 'Less of course you let it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tara demanded, unable to keep the heat from her voice.

"Bloody hell, woman! Do you think that all this time I've been with you just because I couldn't be with her?" Spike exploded, throwing up his hands in anger and turning, stalking several steps away from her. "You think I'd kiss you, do the things I've done with you, tell you I love you if I was still in love with her?"

Tara's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know," she whispered. "You loved her for years, Spike. We've been together what…a month?"

"And in that time," Spike broke in with an urgent passion in his voice as he rushed back to her, taking her by the arms and pulling her close, his eyes dark with emotion, burning into hers. "you have loved me like she never did! Never!"

He released her suddenly, turning away again, but not walking away. "Tara," he began, frustrated, at a loss for words. "I—I thought I'd been loved before. Thought I knew what it meant—what it felt like—to be loved. But—but I was wrong." He faced her again, and this time his eyes were full of tears and adoration, instead of anger and hurt. "You taught me better, Tara. You told me and showed me with every breath, every beat, what real love is! It doesn't hurt, and it doesn't take." He paused, choking back a sob, before pulling her into his arms again, looking her in the eye and continuing in a voice low and intense, "I love you, Tara. And if you think that I would just take all that you've given me these past weeks and run, tell me now, because if you could think that of me I will run back to Buffy and let her kill me now. I'm yours, Tara. Yours. No one else's. You've given me more than I can ever repay and I'll spend the rest of my bloody unlife trying. I love you. I love you, Tara!"

As he spoke, Tara's tears overflowed down her face; she found her eyes drifting back and forth between his eyes and his lips, until his began to follow the same path, and without either one really meaning to, they met in a desperate kiss. Tara was desperate to make right what her insecurity had almost ruined; Spike was desperate to show her everything he had just told her as he savored the salty-sweet taste of her tear-soaked lips.

When they finally broke apart, Tara smiled dazedly. "Drama queen," she accused him tenderly, her eyes dancing with joy.

"So?" he smirked, kissing her again softly, "You know you love it, pet."

She pulled away slowly, with a little half-nod, half-shrug of helpless admission. "You're right. There's nothing about you I don't love, Baby."

His lips parted slightly, eyes wide with surprised pleasure. He was silent for a moment, then took her in his arms again. As he held her close, she heard him whisper what sounded like, "Night and day!"

"What?" she asked, pulling away gently, curiosity in her eyes.

"Buffy and you…like night and day…death and life…" He searched for the right words to explain what he felt. "So different. In our best moments, she made me want to die; you make me feel alive. She made me feel like I was nothing, but you make me feel like I'm everything to you. Her love made me weak—but with you I'm strong."

Tara's breath caught in her throat as she pulled him close again, chuckling softly into his ear, "My poet! You say such beautiful things to me!"

And in that moment neither one had ever been happier.

Moments later, Spike came crashing back to earth with a frightening realization.

"Weak…" he whispered. "You said they'll prey on the weak…right? The most vulnerable?"

"Right," Tara whispered, frowning at the fear in his eyes. "What is it, Baby?"

Spike's face was stricken with terror, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied, "Dawn!"

Dawn hurried up the stairs and to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her. Buffy was in a rare mood today, slamming doors, banging things around, ranting about Spike and how she'd trusted him, how she'd been so stupid to trust him, how she was going to kill him. Dawn would have been angry had it not been so scary.

As soon as she had arrived home, Buffy had locked the door behind her, declaring that she wasn't to go anywhere, not even to school, until she had "taken care of" Spike. Buffy claimed she was afraid that he would come after Dawn, and only wanted to be sure that she was safe.

But Dawn felt anything but safe.

This just felt wrong to her, so she locked herself in her room and picked up the phone to call Spike and Tara. They had said to call if anything weird happened; this definitely qualified.

"Is she answering?" Tara asked anxiously.

Spike held up a hand for silence, even though the phone had not yet begun to ring. Suddenly, he hurled the phone against the wall with a loud roar, "Bloody hell!" He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, regaining control, as a cautious Tara, eyeing him dubiously, went to pick up the phone.

He responded to her questioning, reproving look with a sheepish, apologetic grimace, putting a hand to his head. "Sorry, love," he muttered. "Busy signal."

"Damn it!" Dawn muttered, hanging up the phone. "Busy!"

Just then Buffy stormed through the door, despite the fact that it had been locked, while Dawn's hand was still on the receiver.

"Who were you talking to?" Buffy demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Janice," Dawn mumbled, not meeting her sister's eyes, afraid of what she would see in them.

Buffy paused a moment before snapping, "I don't like Janice!" She spoke in an odd tone, almost as if she was reminding herself of something she had forgotten. That said, she turned to go.

"Yeah, well, you can't choose my friends!" Dawn muttered, as she set her phone back on the night stand.

She turned to see Buffy, stopping short in the doorway with her back still to Dawn, in a way that made her blood run cold. Then Buffy turned, a cold smile on her lips, and advanced on her slowly. Dawn scrambled across the bed, all at once very afraid of her sister, and hastily got to her feet on the opposite side of the bed from Buffy.

Buffy stopped beside the bed, one hand on her hip, still smiling at her little sister. "Oh, yeah?" she sneered. Then she suddenly picked up the phone and yanked it so hard that she pulled the jack right out of the wall. Then she hurled the phone against the far wall, over Dawn's shoulder, where it seemed to explode, falling to the floor in dozens of tiny pieces. Giving it a satisfied look, she turned to address her terrified, speechless sister again. "We'll see, Dawnie," she said calmly with a little shrug, then turned and left the room.

Three hours later, Spike slammed the phone receiver down again, thankfully into the cradle this time. "Something's wrong, Tara!" he insisted. "It's still busy; they're never on the phone this long…something is wrong!"

"It does seem off," Tara agreed, going to sit beside him on the loveseat.

"Isn't there something you can do?" he implored her. "Can't you see if Dawn's ok, at least, somehow? Make a link with her like you did with me?"

Tara frowned. "I'm not sure. It can be done. I mean, not exactly like with me and you, with her not being here and all. I couldn't know her exact thought or anything, but I should be able to reach out and find her if she's in some kind of distress. It would take a lot of concentration, though—focus. I'd need to be alone for a while, in quiet." As she spoke she stood and took a step toward the bedroom.

"Ok. I'll just stay here and keep trying," Spike agreed, already dialing again as she closed the door behind her. At the sound of the busy signal again, he snarled, "Damn it! Bloody hell!"

The bedroom door opened and Tara peeked out. "Baby," she pointed out gently, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Loud English cursing--not helpful to focus."

"Oh—right. Sorry, love."

Not even ten minutes later, as Spike was hanging up the phone again, restraining his desire to hurl it through the wall or release a string of profanity, in order to allow Tara to work, she suddenly emerged from the bedroom, gasping for breath.

"Are you all right, love?" Spike asked, quickly rising and going to her.

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "I found her! You were right, Spike! She's in danger! She's at home, and she's scared to death! Something is happening over there, and it's not good!"