It's Dawn who answers the door. "Hullo, Niblet," Spike says as he and Xander arrive at the Summers house just before sunrise.
He's spent the night at Xander's doing a fat lot of nothing, cooped up, and growing more restless by the hour. The basement seemed like bloody Disneyland in comparison. He hopes Harris is telling the truth, not just for Tara's sake but his as well. His sanity is hanging by a thread and he'd like to keep what little of it he has.
Dawn still greets him with crossed arms and a flat look, which, he notes, is fair and quite what he deserves. He's just grateful to see her confident again. He remembers the self-loathing and doubt in her own existence from the Glory days and how lost and ignored she felt last year, no thanks in part to him. She deserves better than the lot of them and is so much stronger than she ever gives herself credit for. "And when did your sister get unbelievably scary?" He'd said to Buffy. He didn't mean it as a bad thing; he was proud of her.
"Spike?" It is said in the softest, most unsure, hopeful tone he has ever heard. Tara steps hesitantly into view from the living room, one arm holding the wall as if for balance.
And there she is. Standing like a fragile little wisp of a thing she never was. The strongest people never know the depth of their fortitude or resilience, mistaking the ability to endure as weakness. People like Tara weren't the rock being worn down against the ocean shore - they were the water, softening the edges of the people around them with patient steadiness.
There's no doubt in his mind of how much she's evenned him out over the past several weeks. No matter how many voices in his head- of past victims and tormentors alike- hers was always one he could trust. Each at their most vulnerable, they'd been there for each other. She spent endless hours calming him down during the lowest of it, when his grasp of reality was tenuous at best and violent at its worst. No one had ever…
No one had ever stayed. Not Before, not After. Being undead didn't change the fact that the things he loved left him. But what would happen now, part of him wondered, now that she was back? Now that she'd gotten what she needed from him.
"Well, wouldja look at that," he says hesitantly to Tara with an ounce of awe and hint of self-doubt. She doesn't move, and Spike frowns, turning to Dawn. "Wait, you can see her too, right?" Before anyone can answer, Tara throws her arms around him. Surprised, he returns the gesture, the uncertainty evaporating instantly, and gives Tara a pat on the back. She clings tightly and he makes no move to stop her. She stays. "S'good to see you too, love," he mumbles into her shoulder, something warm settling inside him, feeling like home.
Dawn's arms are still crossed, but shift to a more comfortable, casual posture. She smiles wetly, watching them. "Yeah, Spike. We can see her, too."
It's been a while since Buffy has dreaded going to Sunnydale High. Ok, dreaded is a little dramatic, but she definitely does not feel like leaving the house that morning, and not just because she hasn't gotten enough sleep.
She woke before dawn to the smell of pancakes and immediately remembered. It was still dark, so Buffy threw on a robe and headed downstairs. Willow was in the dining room surrounded by piles of books, paper, and her laptop. She looked up as Buffy walked in. "Morning," she said.
"Can you technically say that if it's still dark out and you never went to bed in the first place?"
"Sorry," Willow apologized. "I tried, I just, couldn't fall asleep. Not when . . ." she trailed off, looking over at the kitchen.
"Tara's up, I take it?" Buffy asked, sliding next to Willow, who nodded back.
"And Dawn."
Buffy looked flabbergasted. "It's six am. I can't get her up before nine without an air horn."
Willow chuckled. "She woke up a few hours ago and came downstairs when she couldn't find Tara."
"Tara's missing?!"
"No, no— She couldn't sleep either."
"Hm. Looks like we're putting Mr. Sandman out of a job."
"She's making pancakes."
"Sure smells like it." Buffy blinked as if startled by her own words. "Wow. Didn't think I'd ever get to say that again." She took a moment to observe Willow. Her hair was a little disheveled, there were little bags under her eyes, torn cuticles, and a tired, but anxious edge about her. Buffy remembered those days. Those awful days after Angel had come back. After all these years, there still wasn't an answer for why. She remembered not caring about why he was back, only that he was.
"How are you?" Buffy asked seriously.
Willow glanced at the kitchen nervously. "I've never been so okay to not be okay, y'know?"*
"Been through the whole 'back-from-the-dead soulmate' thing, remember? I sooo know."
With a grimace, Willow downed the dregs of the cup of coffee. "Worst club ever."
They ended up having a second breakfast before leaving for school, grabbing Pop Tarts on their way out the door. Buffy gave Spike a long hard look before leaving.
Dawn has to practically be pried off of Tara, and once in the car is quiet and withdrawn.
"Listen, if I stayed home from school every time someone came back from the dead I would have missed half of Senior year. Plus, if I don't get to stay home, neither do you."
"Tara wouldn't let me stay home either," Dawn huffs grumpily.
Buffy makes a face that implies she's impressed. "One more reason to believe she's the real deal."
Dawn looks over. "Do you really think she's not?"
Buffy takes a deep breath. "I don't know, Dawn," she answers honestly. "I hope she is, but . . . we've seen too many weird things to rule it out. Especially with this new big bad we don't know anything about."
"Tara would never be evil."
"Never," Buffy agrees vehemently.
"Do you think maybe she doesn't know?" Dawn asks nervously.
"Know what?"
"That she's evil?"
They sit with the uncomfortable question heavily between them. Questions churn in her stomach and Buffy wishes Giles would get here faster.