Title: The Vorpal Blade - 8?
Author: Molossus (aka Rooibas aka myfeetshowit)
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Spike/Tara
Archive: Please, just let me know so I can do the Snoopy Dance.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns the universe that Spike adorns. I just worship there.

Thanks to beanbeans,sexymermaid, and Moe H.O.S for making sure I write my English good and don't make too many mistkaes.

Chapter Eight

The walls of the courthouse rattled and glass tinkled from the broken windows. The cannon had moved much closer in a surprisingly short amount of time. How had they moved that artillery so quickly?

Tara looked across the room and saw their guide. One of Hearts, the playing club soldier with his torn and patched together heart. One of Queen Walsh's experiments. One of the soldiers that had arrested Spike. He seemed harmless enough, but there was something about him that put Tara on edge. She supposed they would have to accept his help for now, but she resolved to stay wary. She wasn't sure that you could really trust anyone or anything in Wonderland.

Spike was still arguing with King Giles and the Cheshire cat. Tara watched him and she was puzzled. He was so upset over the idea of a quest. It seemed right to her. Who better than Spike for a hero's journey?

"I get the idea – common enemy. I'm willing to help fight. But this quest business. I'm not prophecy boy. That's Angel. Get him to fetch your toy."

"I offered. They don't want me. Evidently, I'm not good enough." Angel jabbed at Queen Walsh with his sword, and herded her over toward Spike and the others. He placed his blade at her neck. "Can I kill her? She'll be too much trouble to take along if we run, and we can't be worrying about her if we fight."

Tara gasped. "You can't just kill her." Queen Walsh nodded her head in agreement, to the extent that the sword at her throat would allow.

Spike looked at Tara with fond exasperation. "She's already dead, more or less. Don't think death is the same thing here as it is back home, anyway." He looked at King Giles for verification of his statement.

"I don't believe it is. Some of the game pieces who have been 'killed' have shown up in other games. Other times … many of the pieces have shown up in the Jabberwock's Black army."

Angel shook his head in agreement. "It isn't the same thing as killing in your universe. Believe me, I know the difference. I know what death is." Tara hadn't noticed before but the white of his clothes was distinctly beige, especially when compared to the blue white of Kings Giles' and the rosy reflections of the Queen's dress. She wondered if that was because they were royalty, and Angel wasn't.

She took a breath. Angel scared her. He was so big. She had to say what she believed, though. It was important. "I think the intent is the same, wherever you are. Maybe killing doesn't mean the same thing for the victim, but I think it means the same thing for the killer."

Spike touched her shoulder. "You might be right about that, Pet. Problem is the old bat's dangerous. We don't want her around to help the First."

"The King just said that a lot of people who die seem to show up in the Black Army. That's the Jabberwock's army, isn't it? So maybe killing her would just ensure that she ended up helping it ... the First."

King Giles was nodding. "That seems quite possible."

Angel was shaking his head 'no', and so was Spike. "Death is a change. She'd be out of the game or in a different part of it, if she dies. She's more likely to be a danger if we let her live."

Tara's shyness was forgotten. "What she is or isn't doesn't matter. Killing is wrong. It's just wrong unless it's to save someone else's life. The biggest danger is in forgetting that."

Spike smiled at her, and Tara didn't like that slightest of condescending curls that twisted his lips. "I get you, Baby. Really I do. Just doesn't seem practical in this case."

"There aren't cases! There is just one being killing another. Were you listening to me earlier? Please, Spike. Something tells me this is important. Not because of her. Because of you." Tara tried to will the understanding into Spike. Her shyness was gone – the others might as well not be in the room. She had to make Spike realize how vital this was.

King Giles cleared his throat. "The child may be correct. Her arguments earlier apply very well to the organizational structure of this world. Rules are rules. Once established, they are unbreakable until the game ends."

Tara shook her head. "No. That's not the point, here. Spike. It's wrong to kill."

"Pet … You said, yourself. Rainbow. Sometimes you have to."

"Then only when you have to. Absolutely have to. We're discussing a choice here. That means we let her live." Tara felt tears slipping out of her eyes. She was no good at this. Spike didn't understand and she couldn't find the words.

Spike's expression softened. Tara thought she could literally see his eyes turn to a sweeter shade of blue. He ran his thumb across her face, erasing the track of a tear. "If you think it's that important, Sweetness."

"Still a sucker for the waterworks, Spike." Angel's hand was playing with the hilt of his sword. "I don't feel like leaving my back exposed because you want to baby your woman. The bad guys aren't going to be playing nice."

Spike moved like a panther. Tara could see the flash and grace of his body as he left her side and planted himself in front of Angel, but his movement was more an impression on her mind than something observed. He pushed Angel's sword away and stood between the White Knight and Queen Walsh, managing to stare Angel in the eye. Tara wasn't sure how he did that given the difference in their height.

"I trust my woman, Angel. She says this is important and that means it is."

Tara felt a thrill at Spike's words. Spike thought she was a woman – his woman. She felt a tingle run through her at the very idea. With an effort she pulled herself back to the argument and now she frowned, her romantic thoughts completely gone. Spike did seem to argue a lot.

"It's always what the woman wants, isn't Spike? Maybe you should learn to trust yourself."

"'Cause that's worked so well for you? Maybe I think I've still got some learning to do, and I know who I want to learn it from."

Queen Walsh inched away, slowly at first, and then she scrambled toward the back of the building and into one of the interior rooms. Neither Spike nor Angel seemed to notice.

"Maybe you just don't want to think for …"

A rumbling blast deafened Tara's ears. The courthouse shook again; plaster and dust crumbled down on them in papery particles. Tara felt as though she were inside one of those glass balls, turned upside down and shaken, so that snow was drifting down around her. She realized her ears were humming from the concussion of the cannon. The sound around her seemed filtered through wool, and King Giles voice seemed to be coming from a distance.

"Gentlemen, we have no time for this. We're in far more danger of capture than subversive action from Queen Walsh."

Several white soldiers moved together and formed a barrier between the King and the front of the building.

The Cheshire cat rose onto his hind legs. His head was level with her chest and she realized he must have made himself larger somehow.

"I'm coming with. Wolfram & Hart has a vested interest in making sure you don't fall into the First's hands. I'm sure they'd want me to do whatever I can to make sure you don't."

Tara thought that sounded more like a threat than a promise of help and the expression on Spike's face made it clear he agreed. He opened his mouth and Tara knew he intended to continue arguing.

Shouts, and the sound of steel clashing on steel, the clatter of myriad feet, and the clack of horse's hooves were jangled up in the ringing in her ears. She couldn't gauge distance clearly, but thought that objects were closer than they were heard. The fight was close.

She grabbed Spike by the elbow. "You'd argue with Satan while he had you on his pitchfork, and ready to roast in the fires of Hell."

Spike grinned at her. "Why not? Isn't like it would make things any worse."

Tara made a face at him, and he let her pull him away.

"This way!" One of Hearts was jumping up and down in anticipation. "I know exactly where we need to go."

She wasn't sure she wanted to trust the soldier but she couldn't see any other option.

"Angel, go with them. We'll keep the fight going here for as long as we can." King Giles turned toward one his aides. "Where's my sword? We'll need every hand possible." He stepped out of his ridiculous shoes.

Angel's jaw dropped. "What? I want to stay here and fight! I'm a …"

"GO!" King Giles paid him no more attention, putting his arms out to slide on the armor that was placed before him. He was strangely commanding, despite owlish eyes and bare feet.

Drusilla stepped in front of Spike, blocking his way, and touched her hand to his cheek. Her eyes were large and sad and knowing. "I've lost you, Spike, when I've tried so hard to win you again. Will you forgive me for teasing you and your dolly? I never mean to make you unhappy."

Spike smiled, and Tara's heart ached with the forlornness of it. "You'll always be in my heart, Dru. You know that."

Soldiers, both black and white, spilled through the breach in the wall. Sparks scraped off sword blades, blood sprayed from cloven flesh, and within moments the room resembled an ant hill, swarming, alive with furious movement.

A pair of dueling soldiers collided with Queen Drusilla, knocked her to the ground, and sent her rolling, her black hair and white dress frothing about her.

Angel sprinted to her aid and helped her to her feet. Tara was impressed at how gently he lifted her. Queen Drusilla seemed to bring out courtliness in both her White Knights.

Angel looked down at the Queen, grim-faced, "I won't leave you, Dru. Come with."

"I've already left you." Her voice was distant. She pulled away from Angel and turned to Spike. Tara was startled to see the coherence in Drusilla's eyes. "The game has started. Listen to your heart and not your head, and that's the key to finding the Vorpal Blade."

The air seemed to waver around her, melt into honey-thickened translucent waves. Within a matter of moments, Queen Drusilla was enveloped and she shimmered and she was gone.

Now that the Queen was gone, out of the line of her vision, Tara could see the One of Hearts waving his arms at them, jumping up and down in frantic excitement.

Spike swung Tara up into his arms. She squirmed against his grasp. "No, I can run."

He jumped back to avoid a sword blade and Tara heard it hum beside her ear. Spike began running. "Know you can, Pet. Not as fast as I can."

"Spike …"

"Love. You're the smart one. You do the thinking. I do the running. Okay?"

Tara let it go, and Spike pounded after the One of Hearts, following him to the room into which Queen Walsh had disappeared earlier. Peering over Spike's shoulder, Tara saw King Giles raise his sword, and swing it toward a black chessman's head. They passed through a door and her view of the battle was cut off.

She laid her head against Spike's shoulder, clung tightly, and tried to make herself as small as she could, keep herself from being wind resistant. Spike shouldn't have to worry about holding onto her. If she couldn't help with the running, she wasn't going to hinder it. She couldn't help thinking that this was so much nicer than being pulled along behind like a rag doll. Maybe that was part of being together – neither was in front or behind, they clung together as one, merely switching places to use their strengths as needed.

If she could have lifted her hand without shifting her weight in Spike's arms, she would have slapped herself. She was thinking all wrong. They shouldn't switch between strengths – that was what they had been doing. She should be supporting him with her strength while he was using his.

Tara closed her eyes. She didn't try to push her power out, just let it flow. She pictured Spike's aura, the sharp midnight black of it, and the bold slashes of red that rippled through it. Red like blood. That was their connection, the blood. She stretched her magic hand and grabbed a bolt of red, infused it with her magic and let the lightning reverberate through them both.

Her mind sparked with light, and she could beyond Spike's aura and into his soul. Midnight still, but now she had eyes to see the overlay of molten blue, the depths, the endless depths, and the dark stars.

My Lord, Spike was full of stars.

If only they could be lit to incandescence, why he'd have enough light to illuminate the world. In a moment of prescience, Tara saw that someday his stars would shine. He'd burst out and be a glorious brightness in the depths of hell and destroy the shadows and be burned up with his own heat.

Fear clamped down on her heart and she pulled back, sharply, severing the connection. She felt Spike stumble and pitch forward into empty space.

They dropped rapidly, and her stomach lurched. Spike was jigging his legs; she could feel him struggling to stay upright, and find a landing place for his feet. She felt herself swinging out into the air, away from his body, his hands the only contact between them. A gasp forced its way from deep inside her.

"Grab something. Grab something. Can't hold you." Spike's voice was shaky with panic and Tara grabbed. She grabbed and found something round and slim and unmovable. A rail? A banister? She felt pain slicing into her hand; sharp bits piercing her palms; still she held fast, and Spike slammed into her, the rest of him catching up with her. She almost lost her hold and felt her nails ripping with the strain.

Then Spike's feet were solid beneath him, and he had her again, and they were still, except for the shaking and heavy breathing of their bodies.

"Tara! What the bloody hell were you doing? Whatever it was, startled the piss out of me when you jerked it away like that."

She realized they were descending stairs. She'd lost touch with their physical whereabouts, and her eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom of their surroundings. Every object around her was a shadow in the dark, half-seen and half-hidden. She felt the whisper of cobwebs across her face and resisted the urge to swat frantically to remove them. Spider bites were the least of her problems. She'd made Spike miss his footing and nearly caused them to tumble.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to help…"

"Keep it down, you two. The black soldiers are going to find this tunnel soon enough." One of Hearts was whispering in a voice that could carry for miles, and Tara felt a twinge of annoyance. Pot calling the kettle black.

"Let's just keep going then, yeah? You sure you do know where we're going?"

The Cheshire cat interrupted, "If he doesn't, I do. The Cheshire cat part of me knows every single inch of Wonderland. Plus Wolfram & Hart installed a complete set of maps in my head before sending me here. I've got double schematics, as it were."

"Yeah, but you don't know which tunnels are used in the game, or which lead to 'The Vorpal Blade'." One of Hearts was just another dim shadow in the murk but Tara could see he was rolling his hands outward dramatically in time to his florid pronunciation – 'The Vora-pull Bla-yud'. What a silly little cardboard man. She wasn't sure she could trust him but she kind of liked him.

"But you do. And you know this how?" Before One of Hearts could answer, Spike put Tara on her feet. They had come to the bottom of the stairs. "Don't think we'll be running here, so maybe best you walk, so I'll be free if we have to fight."

Tara's nodded and knew he could see it through the gloom. There was a substance that coated the upper half of the walls, gleaming with a barely seen luminescence. She suspected they would be completely blind without it, and hoped fervently that it ran the length of the tunnel. She clutched Spike's hand firmly. She didn't want to lose him. Spike expanded on his question to the One of Hearts, "How do you know where we're going? And where might that be? Keep walking while you're talking, by the way. Rather be going the wrong way than sit and wait for the soldiers."

One of Hearts walked. Or rather, he danced his way forward, jumping to emphasize his points, and doing little jigs of self-congratulation. "Oh, there isn't much I don't know about these games. Some of us have embraced this new world you know. Grabbed out for the brass ring, taken the best of both worlds and made it ours." He seemed to think about what he was saying. "Of course, that doesn't mean I won't support your efforts to get the …" his voice deepened and he gave the words that strange pronunciation, 'Vora-pull Bla-yud'. "I'm all for ending the threat of the Jabberwock and allowing other vill … the people of this Brave New World to rule themselves."

Tara had the illusion that One of Hearts had suddenly lost his head and she blinked her eyes to see more clearly. She realized he was bending down to enter a small opening. She couldn't see the Cheshire cat anywhere, and thought he must have already gone through.

One of Hearts' hand popped back through the opening and waved at them, "This way, guys."

"Let me go first." Angel pushed in front of Spike. Tara expected Spike to argue but he surprised her.

"Right. I'll go last." He moved so Tara was between himself and Angel. She realized that despite their differences, Spike and Angel were falling into a well-established routine and both were automatically protecting her. She felt both a wave of gratitude, and a niggle of annoyance. She didn't want to be protected … and, yet, she did.

Angel grunted. Tara wondered what that was about. One of his feet slammed into her thigh and she realized his legs were thrashing.

He was stuck!

She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. Being in Wonderland was like riding a carousel! She'd been flip-flopping through rampant fear, and romantic swoons, and giddy humor, all piled up on top of one another, and mixed, not stirred. She felt the onset of fatigue, and realized with surprise that she was on the verge of being hysterical. It occurred to her that she hadn't eaten since arriving here. The events in the courthouse had given her a second wind but the darkness of their surroundings was making her sleepy. She took a breath, and tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. It didn't help that Spike was giggling like a loon. She thought, maybe, he was a little hysterical, too.

"Angel, stop thrashing. Are you too big for the opening, or caught on something?" Tara turned to Spike. "Will you stop giggling. The sound will car … carry." She took a breath. This was serious. She wasn't going to laugh.

Angel's voice was peevish. "I'm not sure. I think I'm caught. Can you feel around my waist, and see what's hanging me up."

Tara backed away, and bumped into Spike. She wasn't about to put her hands anywhere near Angel's waist. That was far too close to other … things. "Spike, you do it."

"Hell, no. I'm not putting hands on that big lug." He wasn't even trying to stop laughing.

"Well, neither am I." Tara hesitated. She didn't like to fall back on feminine wiles but this was a crisis. She smiled. "Spike, please. My hands are sore …" Tara stopped, disgusted with herself. That was something Dru would do. Manipulate.

"Never mind." She turned back to Angel, aimed through the gloom and hoped her hands didn't encounter anything they shouldn't. She froze when she heard the sound of footsteps ringing behind her. Spike wasn't laughing anymore.

Tara didn't recognize the voice that carried, faintly, through the tunnel. "This way. They're down this way."

One of Hearts recognized it, though. "Uh oh. That's Willow, the Black Queen. She is one scary Mama, dudes."