Blocker
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Chapter Eight
Tara woke at daybreak, unsure at first of where she was. Then she remembered the dorms and Claire and her friends fixing it up for her. She remembered Spike. She turned onto her side and watched him sleep. He didn't move. No breathing, no snoring, not even a muscle twitch. It was… peaceful.
Her mother had been right. Becoming friends with him had been the right thing to do. They had helped each other. Helped each other see what was wrong with what they had - and what they needed instead.
The problem was that she might want to be more than friends. It was a scary prospect. If it didn't work out, she might lose a friend and she needed those right now. So did he. But if it did work out… it could be magical.
She wasn't afraid of his vampire nature, witches and vampires had a long history that was mutually beneficial. And anyway, Spike was no ordinary vampire, anyone could see that. Anyone except Buffy, apparently.
After seeing what he was like, Tara couldn't understand why anyone would spurn his attentions. When Spike was focused on you, you were everything to him - he'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you. He might make a mistake, but everyone did, humans and demons alike. He wasn't perfect; but he might be perfect for her.
If only he felt the same way.
On that ridiculous note, she got up to shower and prepare for her classes. Today was another day, as the song went.
Spike heard her go and got up and slipped into the bed, still warm from her body. It even smelled like her. He wrapped himself in her blankets and her warmth and fell right back to sleep.
She came by during Passions to bring him some blood she'd bought at the butcher's near the campus and to tell him that they were going out to the Bronze with Claire, Jason, Patsy and Mike tonight. She asked if that was all right with him. He nodded and she smiled, kissed his cheek and ran off to her next class.
When she returned, he had ordered pizza and they ate some together while they watched the evening news. Deaths by violence were down significantly from the record highs they'd had over the summer, the broadcaster informed them.
Buffy was back on the job; all was as it should be.
As much as Spike wanted to get back out there and kick some demon arse, he thought it best not to tempt fate. He'd stay out of the slayer's way for a while. Never knew when she might decide she was in the mood for another snog and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.
Tara seemed to understand and told him they were going to leave for the Bronze after Jason's lab, which ended at eight. Was there anything he needed to do before that?
He thought about saying he'd like to go back to his crypt for some clean clothes, but that would be presumptuous. He didn't know if she'd want him to stay again tonight. He'd see how things went at the Bronze and run home if he needed to later.
"What about you, luv? You gonna be all right going out where you might run into your bird?"
"She's not mine, Spike. She never would have done that to me if she'd been mine. I thought we'd established that."
"We did at that."
"Besides," she confessed, "there's safety in numbers. If we're with everyone else, there's more buffer between us if they do show up."
We.
Felt good being part of a 'we' after so long on his own.
Harmony doesn't count. For much of anything.
They watched the rest of the news and then Jeopardy and then Tara and Spike both went to shower and change before going out. Claire gave him another one of Jason's shirts, a blue cotton button-up this time.
Jason arrived at eight-twenty and he wolfed down a couple of slices of pizza as they all headed out the door. Spike drove himself, Tara, Jason and Claire. Mike's pickup truck was useful for mattresses, but not much good for hauling passengers.
Claire gave him directions from the backseat, telling him which way to go as if he hadn't lived in Sunnyhell for years now. He liked the chit, so he just followed directions and didn't complain. Claire was who she was and 'controlling' seemed to be her middle name. You put up with things like that when you had friends.
Wait.
Since when had they become his friends?
But they were. If he needed something - not blood, of course, but something else - he knew these people would do what they could to help him out.
He parked in the lot across from the Bronze and held the door open for the others as they got out of the car. Patsy ran over and jumped on his back, demanding a piggyback ride. He smiled and gave it to her, silently hoping none of the other demons in town were around to see this. He'd never live it down.
They didn't see any of the Scooby gang when they sat down and he saw Tara visibly relax. To his way of thinking, it was good that she wasn't getting any time to adjust to the change in her situation. He thought the best way to change wasn't to do it gradually; it was just to do things differently from then on. This was her life now; these were her friends now. It didn't do to fret or wonder, you simply went on with your life as you intended to live it from now on. Definitely the best way. It seemed to be doing her all the good in the world.
They drank and talked but every once in awhile, Spike saw Tara glance toward the entrance.
"Come on, luv. Dance with me." He wanted to take her mind off that door.
The band was playing a cover of an old Rolling Stones song and it was one he liked - 'Waiting On A Friend'. He pulled Tara close and heard her heart start to race. They moved around the floor but he had forgotten the song and the melody. He was too intently focused on Tara's reaction to their dance.
One thing was clear now. Whatever they were, they weren't just friends. He wondered if she were as aware of his body as he was of hers.
He knew it would take a while, but he was determined to see where this would lead. It might take a month, it might take a year; but he wasn't going anywhere. And he was beginning to think that Tara was worth the wait.
The song ended and as they separated, their eyes met.
She was not unaffected and she knew that he wasn't either.
If things hadn't changed last night, they had now.
After they got back to the table, they talked and laughed and drank - but they didn't dance together again.
They stayed until after one - no one had any classes before noon the next day. As they were leaving, their waitress slipped a piece of paper into Tara's hand and winked. Tara seemed as surprised as everyone else.
"What's it say?" Claire demanded excitedly as soon as they left the building.
Tara opened the paper and read aloud, "'Looks like you finally got smart and dumped the redhead.' And -and then there's a phone number." She pointedly did not look at Spike.
Claire laughed, "Well, yeah, but didn't she notice the new hottie?" she said as she affectionately mussed Spike's hair.
"Let's get you back," Spike said, heading for the car.
"Looks like someone's jealous," Claire sing-songed behind him and Jason discreetly told her to be quiet. He didn't know what was going on with Spike and Tara, but he had a feeling they weren't what Claire thought they were.
Spike didn't seem eager to come into the dorm but Claire was oblivious to the tension and she just assumed that he was staying with Tara so he went in, intending to leave as soon as they were all settled in their rooms.
He followed Tara to her room, already preparing his exit line.
"Nice looking chit."
"Who?" Tara asked, genuinely confused.
"The one who gave you her number. You gonna call her?" He tried to sound encouraging.
"I'm not interested in her, Spike."
"Yeah, too early, I guess."
"No - well, yes, normally I would say it was too soon to move on, but - but our situation isn't exactly normal, is it?"
He couldn't have heard her right. She just meant that they'd both broken up -
No mistaking the fingertips that were causing tingles under his skin as they danced across his stomach.
Or the way she was studying the buttons on the front of his shirt.
Or that oh-so-soft sigh in her breath that made him rock hard.
"Tara? Luv?" He wasn't going to mess this up by mistaking her meaning. He wasn't going to make the same mistake he'd made with the slayer.
She didn't answer him verbally. Instead, her hand skimmed his chest and over his shoulder and her fingers wrapped around his neck and pulled him down for the sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced. Soft lips touching his. A soft tongue sliding along the crease in his lips. Sweet breath as she opened her mouth and urged him to do the same. When he did, the heat flared between them and their hands got to work exploring each other. Her soft skin, his hard muscle, her supple curves, his rigid length.
That message was clear enough for anyone.
He walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed.
"Lift yer arms, luv."
He lifted her shirt over her head and stood looking at her, marveling that she was even more glorious than he'd even imagined.
"Beautiful."
Tara gave him a look, but, smart boy that he was, he'd been looking at her face and not her chest when he said that.
She worked the buttons on his shirt as fast as she could and at last saw and felt the hard planes of his chest that she'd been thinking about since he got out of his bed to ask her what was wrong three days before.
He let the shirt slide down his arms to land on the floor and reached for the zipper on her skirt.
"Hate these skirts of yours," he told her.
"Why? Is it stuck?" she asked, reaching around to help him unzip it.
"No, it's 'cause they cover so much of you. Like yer jeans better, they show off yer-"
"I know what they show off," she said, laughing. She reached for his jeans and had them unbuttoned and unzipped in no time at all. There was no turning back now. She hadn't seen one of these in the flesh, so to speak, for over four years.
"You ever?" he asked, wanting to know how careful he should be.
"Yes - once, but-"
"Let me guess. Teen-aged sod who didn't have a clue what he was doing."
"Pretty much."
"Don't worry, luv," he assured her, leaning in for another kiss. Just before he reached her, he stopped and told her, "I know what I'm doin'."
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