Goodwill Towards Men, and Possibly Even A Demon

by SpikesKat

Spike winced as every step he took jarred his injury. He did his best to hide the pain from the witch, however, as he refused to allow her to walk the streets of Sunnydale at night all alone. He’d see the girl to the Slayer’s house, damned if he wouldn’t. 

The aura stone that nestled against his chest seemed to flare with warmth just then, and he hastily pulled his shirt away from his chest to make sure his skin wasn’t sizzling. When he did, he was surprised to see that the stone was brighter than before. 

A quick glance at Tara revealed her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, a secret smile on her face.  

“Wot?” he snapped. 

“The stone enables you to see what I already can,” she replied calmly, ignoring his surly tone. She stopped and laid a hand on his arm, adding, “I told you. You’re changing. Growing. The stone is just physical proof.” 

Spike harrumphed to cover the sudden pleasure he felt at her words. Muttered that it was getting late and she was expected after all. He said nothing when Tara, instead of removing her hand from his arm, linked it through his and lightly grasped his elbow like he was some gentleman of old and she his lady fair out for a stroll.  

Shaking his head at her antics, a rare smile on his face, he started walking again. Surprisingly, his chest wound didn’t hurt this time. 

The pain-free experience didn’t end with their walk either.  

Spike stopped at the steps leading up to the Slayer’s porch and looked down at Tara. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moving slightly, speaking without actually saying the words. Chanting. 

He would have struggled to get away – he hated magic in all its forms, felt it like fingernails on a bloody chalkboard, raising the demon’s hackles. He would have, but the touch on his arm wasn’t threatening. Was soothing, in fact. 

And he knew then what she was doing.  

She was fixing him, healing him. The gaping flesh on his chest was knitting together, faster than his own demon healing.  

Tickles, he thought, though he didn’t move. 

A minute later it was over and Tara was releasing his arm and stepping back. She swayed slightly and Spike reached out and steadied her on her feet.  

“Easy now,” he murmured, hands lightly gripping her shoulders. 

The front door was yanked open and Willow was standing there, then the Slayer. 

“Tara! What—? I felt…” Magic. Strong magic, she didn’t say, staring in confusion at the scene in front of her.  

“I’m… I’m fine, Willow.” 

“But—” 

Tara ignored her, however, concentrating on Spike. Her look was knowing, wise beyond her years, like she was channeling Mother Earth herself. 

“He had no right,” she said quietly, for Spike’s ears alone. Her eyes pierced him with their intensity, like she was looking into his very soul, if he’d had one.  

She blinked then and seemed to come back to herself. Would have collapsed if Spike had not been holding her. He easily gathered the girl up in his arms and quickly climbed the steps, ignoring Willow’s frantic cries of “Tara! Tara!” 

The Slayer was standing in the doorway, staring at him with an unreadable expression, neither welcoming nor outright hostile. She seemed to reach a decision and stepped back and held the door open, a jerk of her head indicating he should bring Tara inside. 

“Set her on the couch. I’ll get her a glass of water,” she said. 

“Tea, if you’ve got it, Slayer. Better for her, I’m thinking.”  

Spike didn’t stop to see if the Slayer heard, instead turning towards the living room.  

Everyone else was already there – Xander, Anya, Dawn, Giles, and Joyce – and they all jumped to their feet and out of the way. Spike set Tara down on the couch and was shouldered out of the way by an overanxious Willow.  

“Tara, honey, are you all right?” 

He would have left them to their celebration, but Tara’s hand reached out and she asked him to stay. Spike reluctantly nodded and moved to an inconspicuous corner, head down, huddling into his duster, his mind in a whirl over what she had done. 

Fixed me, from the demon. 

Knows, from William, pleased that someone had taken their side for once. I like her. She’s nice. 

Kind. The demon again. 

Shut up! Spike yelled in his head when their continued thoughts became too much.  

He looked up to see if everyone was occupied, affording him an easy escape. Joyce was standing in front of him. 

“You look like you could use some cocoa.” 

“Yes, mum.” 

“Well, come on then.” 

Joyce headed towards the kitchen and Spike reluctantly followed.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

“You seem nervous, Spike.” 

“Do you think people can change? Demons, I mean?” Spike blurted out, ignoring Joyce’s comment. His hands were wrapped around his mug of cocoa and he was staring down at the marshmallows bobbing along the surface. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Joyce smiling at him. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t offer my hot cocoa to just anybody, you know.” 

She winked at him and Spike gave a short bark of laughter. 

“Now come on. I’m sure the others are waiting.” 

“Beggin’ your pardon, mum, but I rather doubt that. Better I should just drink this and slip out the kitchen door. Leave you to your celebrating.” 

“Nonsense!” 

“But—” 

“Spike. Remember? Peace on earth. Goodwill towards men… and maybe one demon. Now, come on.”  

She held out her hand and Spike stood, grabbed his drink in one hand and Joyce’s with the other and allowed himself to be led back into the living room.

The End

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