Author's Chapter Notes:
CHAPTER PAIRING: Spike & Tara

DISCLAIMERS: All BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions.
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"What the…"

Tara solidified and fell to the floor with a thud and a squeak when Spike stepped through the door.

"…bloody hell is this?"

Puddles stopped gnawing on the rug and barked at Stan's feet. The Empath shuddered awake, wiping drool from his mouth. "I'm up! I'm up!"

Gar was pacing back and forth over the garbage in the kitchen, having a heated argument with one of his gang; he hadn't the slightest idea that the vampire had returned home.

Spike took stock. "No way. This is not happening."

"It's…uhhh… not what it looks like," Stan offered. He had no idea what he just woke up to, but that might buy everyone some time.

"Actually, it pretty much is," Tara sighed. She gathered herself and stood up, rubbing her sore bottom.

Spike's eyes looked like they were going to pop. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.

With the dog barking again, Gar's gaze shot back to the living room. He was still yelling at the person on the other end of his phone, but seeing Spike made his face lose some of its tightness. He stomped out of the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear, and headed to the door. One finger pointed at a clearly-frazzled Spike, then Gar pulled it back to himself and sliced the air at his throat.

A rumble began in Spike's chest as he slammed the door behind the Kailiff. His fists clenched in time with his teeth.

"You have exactly three seconds…"

Puddles whimpered and ran behind the chair. Tara moved closer to Willow so that she became a bit more transparent. Didn't want to get in the middle of this!

Stan fidgeted, his ears drooping more than normal. He started wringing his hands. "Madame Polina phoned…said someone came here for you. Found you. Bubbling with darkness and… Would be the d…" He was scared to even say it.

Spike eyed him and motioned for him to continue. This wasn't nearly enough.

"…the death of you."

"I'm already dead, you git."

Stan looked up at the vampire, his eyes giving away whatever hid in that odd head. "She said she saw it. I had to…"

Spike couldn't really stay angry at him after that. Not with those damn eyes and the hand-wringing and the thick scent of genuine worry. He stepped away from the door and slumped down onto the couch next to Willow. This night was exhausting.

Tara materialized at his proximity, and he pulled her into his lap before she could fall again.

"Hey, what's on you?" the good witch asked. She ran her fingers over his hair and jacket collar, feeling the strange powder on him.

"Careful, pet. The tell-tale sign of doom that the batty bird was spoutin' on about. Found the 'bubbling darkness' at the club in the shape of a voodoo priestess."

Tara and Stan eyed Spike curiously.

"Looks like she caught me with her curse before she escaped."

The witch sniffed at the powder, then flicked some of it into the air.

Stan hid behind his hands. "Hey, don't curse me! I'm pet-sitting!"

Tara shook her head, smiling slightly. "No, no. It's just a simple smokescreen. There's no magic in this." Her hands began brushing the rest off.

That answer didn't do much to settle Spike's nerves, though. "Well, she was in the middle of cursing someone, then. I heard it right as rain. Gotta stop her before she causes someone damage…"

The vampire stopped speaking as soon as his brain caught up. He and Tara looked at Willow and then back at each other.




The longer Willow remained asleep, the harder it was for her to fight the spell. She was succumbing to the magic, for sure. Still, she reasoned, it was better than giving in to the Hellmouth.

She could sense that Tara was close to her, but she was no longer able to hear conversations or tell what could be going on outside her mind.

Willow assumed that, by now, Tara had figured out something was wrong. Perhaps she was already working on a counter spell. And, hopefully, Spike would keep her safe.




"Nope. Nothing," Tara sighed. "That was the last shot I had in my arsenal of tricks."

Spike paced the room, nonplussed. He looked at Puddles, and the dog hid by the leg of the chair again. Stan was on his hands and knees in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess the dog had made of it, and Puddles cowered, not willing to acknowledge the damage done to the rug.

"Get this mutt outta here," Spike spat as Stan got up.

Stan frowned apologetically. "Sorry, Spike. I'll make it up to you. I'll…"

"Yeah, you will. Right now." The vampire glanced over at the sleeping witch. "Bring me the fortune teller."





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