Tara lay on her bed in her dorm room, looking through every bit of information on auras -- and what could change them -- that she could find. But the more she looked, the more frustrated she got. There was just no explanation for all the things she had seen at Buffy's party.
Auras could wax and wane somewhat, when affected by strong emotions, or when the person went though major life changes, as Willow's apparently had when she gave up magic. But the degree of change was usually pretty small. Likewise, strong emotions would cause flashes of different colors to appear, but a fundamental color change was extremely rare, since the dominant color of an aura was a reflection of someone's basic personality, not just their feelings of the moment.
The plain fact that Buffy's aura had changed so much confused her, and -- she had to admit to herself -- it frightened her. After all her research on the resurrection spell, after she had promised Buffy that she was fine . . . could she have been wrong? Had something terrible happened to Buffy when they brought her back, something that had somehow changed her fundamental nature?
As for what she had seen when Spike and Buffy touched . . . two people's auras might intertwine and even mingle a little, but it should have been completely impossible for two auras to merge into one. Not even identical twins were so much alike that-
The phone ringing interrupted her reverie. "Hello?"
"Tara, it's Spike. I need your help, or, rather, the Slayer does."
"Buffy? What's wrong with her?" She sat up in alarm.
"Luv, I haven't got the slightest. Dawn and I got here a little bit ago, and found her crying herself sick. She hasn't said what's wrong, she's just been crying, or babbling to Dawn that she forgives her for the wish, for stealing all that stuff from the stores . . . for every bleedin' thing she's ever done!
"Anyway, I went to get her a drink -- to calm her down, of course -- and all I could get her was a glass of water! After that marathon party, Buffy hasn't got a thing to drink or eat in the entire house -- I think Clem even ate the pancake mix, right out of the box!
"So Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard is bare, neither one of the girls is up to going out, and I don't want to leave them alone . . . "
"All right, Spike, I get the picture. You just stay right there. I'll get some take-out and come right over." Then she thought of something, and wished she hadn't. "Umm, wh-what about you? D-do you n-need anything?"
She heard Spike chuckle wickedly. "Well, you could pick me up a bag of O positive from my crypt--" Tara's stomach started to tie itself in knots as she thought of going there, by herself, at night, "--but I don't think that little detour's necessary. I can eat regular food. Can't live on it, but it'll take the edge off. And since coming to the States I've developed a real taste for Buffalo wings. The spicier, the better."
Tara grinned briefly. Spike eating regular food? Buffalo wings? That was just so weird, she had to see it for herself. "Okay. I know a place where I can get wings for you, and other stuff for the rest of us."
"You can get what you like for yourself, witchy woman, and for the Slayer -- just don't get her a hamburger, or she'll brain you for sure -- but the Bit likes wings, and she likes 'em just like I do, extra spicy. 'Course, she has to have extra blue cheese sauce too, havin' human taste buds . . ."
Tara could adjust to all kinds of things if she tried -- vampires with chips in their heads who ate chicken wings, girls who magically appeared at the age of 14 and hung out with vampires with chips in their heads who . . . etc. The idea of eating blue cheese, however, was still totally alien to her. "If she'll eat it, fine, Spike. But she'd better eat some salad, too. Just hold on, and I'll be there as quick as I can."
She was about to hang up when she thought of one more thing. It was a bit risky, and it was based on pure guesswork, but if what she had seen last night was real, and not just her Sight gone haywire . . . "One more thing, Spike . . . ?"
"Yeah?" she heard him ask, warily.
"Go be with Buffy. Touch her. Don't pester her to talk about what's happened . . . and for God's sake keep your hormones under control! Just be there for her. I think . . . I think it'll be good for her."
There was a long silence at the other end. Then a long sigh. "All right, luv, I'll do my best. I just hope you're right. When the Slayer's upset, she can be real nasty, and I won't be able to enjoy those wings if she decides to feed me a nice thick stake first."
Tara said goodbye and hung up, then grabbed her purse and jacket and rushed out the door.
Spike took a swig from his flask. He still remembered the night, almost a year ago, when he'd come to the Slayer's house to kill her, and wound up trying to comfort her instead, as she sat weeping on her back porch. He'd known that she hadn't really wanted his comfort, and he'd felt stupid just sitting there with her, or patting her on the back, but he'd found it impossible to just walk away.
Eventually Buffy had simply gotten up and gone in the house, without saying a word to him. And she'd never mentioned that night since then. He wondered if she even remembered that he'd been there. He also wondered if he was going to be able to help her this time around.
Tucking his flask back into his pocket, he made his way to the living room. The scene on the couch was pretty much as he had left it. Buffy was still caught between sobbing and babbling to Dawn, who was trying to comfort Buffy, but also getting confused and frightened by her older sister's behavior.
Finally, Spike noticed the boxes and papers lying discarded on the coffee table. He was sure they hadn't been there last night when the party had finally broken up. Being careful not to disturb the Summers sisters, he glanced through them. It took him only moments to scan the letter and take in the two portraits.
Goddamn my bloody stinkin' Sire! Shoulda figured he'd be involved in this!
He took a deep breath -- he didn't need to breathe, but the age-old human instinct was still there, and it did help him focus his thoughts -- and forced his anger down. He'd deal with the Guilt Fairy another time.
Then he crept up behind Dawn, and whispered to her, "Niblet, please? Let me in? Maybe I can help." And he silently prayed -- to anything that would listen to a vampire -- that Tara was right.
Dawn bit her lip, and looked back at her sometime protector. She wanted to be the one to help her sister, who'd been there so many times for her . . . but she felt so frustrated. Why wouldn't Buffy stop crying?
As she looked helplessly at Spike, she thought ruefully that maybe it would be a relief to let one of the "grownups" take over . . . as long as he didn't try to shut her out.
She nodded, and whispered, "Okay." She gently shifted Buffy's shoulder a little to let Spike slide in behind her. And soon it was Spike who was gently embracing the petite blonde and murmuring in her ear. Dawn had moved over to Buffy's other side, and was stroking her hair.
She couldn't hear what Spike was saying to her sister -- or even if he was saying anything at all -- but it seemed to be working. Buffy finally stopped crying, and after a minute or two, she accepted the glass of water from Dawn and took a sip. Then, as she looked at Dawn, she seemed to realize that someone else was holding her. She turned suddenly, and came face-to-face with the vampire. "S-s-s-spike?" she hiccuped. "What are you doing here?"
Dawn saw Spike start to get that . . . wounded look that only Buffy could inspire in him. And she knew that in a moment, he would say something nasty and defensive that would ruin all the good he'd just done. So she answered for him.
"He walked me home from the Library." And as Buffy opened her mouth, she added, "And he was going to leave us to our happy little sisterhood-bonding night until he saw what a mess you were. He got you that glass of water you're holding, I think I heard him calling someone about food, and he was able to calm you down, when I couldn't even get you to talk to me straight! So don't go all Slayerful on him and thank him, for Pete's sake!"
The stunned look on Buffy's face was priceless.
To describe Buffy's emotional state at this time as "confused" would have been the understatement of the century. She was still trying to deal with the thought of Faith wanting her forgiveness, Faith being sorry that Buffy had died . . . and herself being sorry that Faith had died. It was all too much for her to handle.
And now she was being comforted by Spike, who was the closest thing she had to an archenemy. (At that thought, she added a brief mental Ppffft! to Warren, who was only her arch-hemorrhoid.) She was being comforted by Spike, who had tried to kill her so many times . . .
And who had saved her life, and Dawn's, so many times . . .
She mentally gritted her teeth and reminded herself of all the times Spike had taunted her, and humiliated her, and hurt her.
But he was here now, as he had been so many times since she had been brought back, comforting her, caring for her . . . loving her? Was it really possible?
Dawn watched in alarm as Buffy looked up at Spike. She had that look in her eyes, the one that said she was having one of her Moments. Dawn didn't think she was going to like this, and she was sure that Spike wouldn't.
"Spike?" Buffy asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "I'm going to ask you a question. And for once, just for once, I want a straight answer from you. No jokes, no put-offs, no sarcasm.
"Are you sorry for anything you've ever done?"
Dawn blinked. This was the last thing she expected to hear from Buffy. Buffy always saying, "Vampires don't have souls, they don't feel anything real." And that always went double for Spike, even after all he'd done.
But she began to feel a little gleam of hope, down at the bottom of her heart. She'd talked to Spike more than anyone else had during that horrible summer when Buffy was . . . not there. And she'd really listened to him. She knew what she hoped he'd say . . . what he'd probably been aching to say to Buffy since she'd been back.
Spike looked right back into Buffy's eyes. And slowly nodded.
"I'm sorry . . . that I failed you, and the Bit, that night on the tower. You asked me to do something for you, and I let you down. I might've done a lot of awful things to you, in the past . . . but that was the worst."
He stopped speaking, but Buffy just stared at him, clearly expecting more. Spike sighed, then looked over Buffy's shoulder at Dawn "Bit, I'm sorry that when I helped you break into the Magic Box, I didn't follow you back to the house. I heard about what you did afterwards," he glanced at Buffy, "and even if I couldn't have made you finding out about being the Key any easier, I could've made sure you didn't hurt yourself, or run into any crazy Hellgods while you were still upset."
And . . . " he was clearly trying to think now. He looked back at Buffy. "I'm sorry about the night I chained you up and threatened to sic Dru on you. Although," he added pointedly, "I think you should remember that I didn't do it, even when you practically spat in my face!"
He stopped, and Dawn thought she heard him growl, deep in his chest, but then he continued.
"I can come up with a whole list if you like, pet, but basically I'm sorry for every rotten thing I've ever done to you, or Dawn."
Buffy stared at him, and then cocked her head to one side, a gesture -- Dawn realized with a shock -- that she had taken from Spike. "Anything else? What about what you've done to my friends, to Xander, and Willow . . . and Tara?"
Dawn blinked at the mention of Tara's name -- she liked Tara a whole lot, and she knew Buffy considered her a friend, but when had Buffy added her to the "short list" that had just been "Xander and Willow" for so long?
Spike pressed his lips together into a thin line. Then he answered, slowly, "Droopy-boy and I have a nice, comfortable, mutual hatred. I haven't done or said anything to him that he hasn't returned, or at least tried to, with interest.
"Red . . . well, she's another story. I don't think she likes me . . . but she doesn't hate me. She's the only one I know who never bears a grudge. And she convinced you all to keep me from staking myself, when all I wanted to do was give up. So yeah, I guess I'm sorry for the time I kidnapped her . . . and for the couple of times I tried to bite her.
"As for Tara, I've never done anything to her. Except for that time that I punched her in the nose, and as I recall, that was a good thing."
Spike waited for Buffy to reply. He was holding onto his temper, but just barely. He hoped Buffy would just let this go.
She didn't. "You talk about regret like it's something you owe only to the people you know, and like," she said. "What about all the people you've killed over the years? Do they mean nothing to you?"
Now Spike got angry. "Is it really all that different for you? What about all the vampires you've slain over the years?"
"They were evil," Buffy said defensively.
"Evil? Ha! Your average minion is too stupid to be evil! They don't know anything except hunger. They're not even smart enough to run away when they see you stake a couple of their pals.
"But if you want to make evil the issue, fine! Forget about all those nameless, faceless dust piles. What about old Spike, the Big Bad himself? I've been evil, sure, but not everything I've done has been evil! And have I ever gotten an apology or an ounce of credit from you?"
He was losing his temper, and he knew it. And he didn't care. "What about the time you left me tied up in the middle of a fight, starving, without a chance to defend myself or even dive for cover? I couldn't have hurt you, and I was offering you information about the Initiative, but I wasn't even worth trying to protect!
"What about all the times you've come over to my crypt to beat information out of me? Or just to beat me up for the fun of it? What about the other night, when you beat me almost senseless because I tried to keep you from throwing your bloody life away!
"Maybe it's too much to ask, but once, just once, I'd like you to consider apologizing to me!"
"And what would it mean if I did?!" Buffy shot back at him.
Spike stared at her a moment, his face just inches from hers, and tightly replied, "It would mean everything, luv. To me, at least."
Dawn held her breath. The two of them had obviously forgotten that she was even in the room. And they were . . . staring at each other, like they were going to start fighting or start . . .
The doorbell rang.
The moment was broken, but the tension was still there. After a long silence, the bell rang again, and Spike said, "That's probably Tara, with dinner."
Buffy just nodded and said, "I'll go let her in." She got up and started for the front door.
Dawn felt her heart sink into her shoes. Was Buffy really going to leave things like this? Sometimes she could be such a-
Buffy suddenly turned around. "S-spike?" she choked. Dawn could see there were tears in her eyes again.
The blond vampire looked at her, but didn't say a word.
When Buffy spoke, her voice was so quiet Dawn could barely make out the words:
"I'm sorry."
Then she ran for the door to greet Tara, as Spike and Dawn stared after her in wonder.
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