Doing the Right Thing

A/N: Well, Tara wouldn't shut up , so now she's in the story, and she's thrown my whole outline into a tizzy.


Chapter 4

“It’s perfect,” said Angel. "It’s even annoying, just like the real Spike.”

Angel and Fred were in her lab, sending the Spikebot through its paces. It was currently playing pinball, drinking Jack Daniels, and cussing. Fred had one of her flunkies get a custom replica of Spike’s leather coat made, at an exorbitant cost. It looked completely real

Fred looked pleased. “We used Security tapes to replicate movement and speech patterns. I must say, it turned out better than I ever expected it too. The technology is just amazing! I wonder about this professor Warren stole the research from.”

“Yeah, it does seem kind of , well, government top secret. Maybe we should investigate.”

“I’ll call Andrew, see what he remembers.” Fred said.

“Great. I’ll get one our investigators on it after you’ve talked to him. Get someone up from shipping to get that thing packed, and we’ll get it off to Willow.”

“Right away, Angel.”


While his bot was getting packed in a custom foam lined casing, Spike was driving Angel’s black Viper to Cleveland. Flying had been an option, but the thrill of driving a high performance vehicle with necrotempered glass and a state of the art sound system had easily made up for the extra time spent driving across country.

The trip was without incident until he stopped at a backwater truck stop in Ohio for gas. Though it was three in the morning the place was busy with truckers drinking coffee in the café and employees in red striped shirts stocking shelves and waiting on customers.

Spike bought gas and decided to pick up some jalapeno chips, almost as tasty as blooming onions.

A blond haired girl was working the cash register along with a pimply young man.
“What pump, sir?’ She asked with a slightly crooked smile on her full lips.

“Th. . . ” Spike stuttered, staring at the girl in disbelief. Warm honey and wheat streaked hair, enormous eyes with incredibly long brown lashes, full coral red lips.

“Three?” She asked in a friendly way.

“Glinda? I mean, Tara?

The girls face blanched white, her eye grew round and she took a step back from the register, clutching her hands to her chest. “Y...You know me? You know my name?”

“That’ll be thirty three dollars,” The young man said, and Spike threw him a fifty with out taking his eyes off the girl. The voice was right, and even more telling, the scent was right.

Her employee name tag read Jana D.

“Tara. Your name is Tara McClay.” He was almost astonished he remembered her surname after all this time.

“Brian, I need to take a break.” She walked out to the front of the store, her face still white and shocked. They went outside and stood on the sidewalk.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Spike said.

“There was a big earthquake in California--”

“--You died a good two years before that, and it wasn’t an earthquake. We closed the Hellmouth.”

“I d-don’t remember anything. I was found wandering around south LA, dressed in rags. They took me to a shelter, and decided I must be a survivor of that earthquake. The timing is right. Nearly a year, now.”

“Listen to me.’ Spike grabbed her by the shoulders but quickly let her go when her eyes widened in alarm. “ Some of this has to make sense to you. I know you’re Tara. You can’t fake your scent.”

She looked at him in astonishment. “Scent? What are you talking about?”

Spike took a breath. He needed to explain this right.

“We need to sit down, so we can talk.”

“Okay. Just a sec.” She ran into the building and came out a short time later with a ragged sweatshirt and a backpack.

“I got off work. We can go to my place. But you should know that I left your licence plate number with Brian and we are being recorded by state of the are security cameras. Just in case you’re an ax murderer.” She said in a serious tone.

She didn’t have a car. He followed her directions to a quiet street in a small town, and followed her into a tiny attic apartment in a dilapidated old house.

“Do you want something to drink? I have tea and diet cola.”

She waved toward a worn love seat and chair in the tiny living room /kitchen combo and opened a cola.

“My name is Spike. We knew each other in Sunnydale–”

“--That’s the town! The earthquake town! So I was from there.” She sat down on the love seat with a bounce, an expression of delight on her face.

“You have family some where in the northwest, a dad and brother, but you weren’t close. You went to college at UC Sunnydale.”

“But what do you mean that I died two years ago?”

Spike searched for words. “Look, what I’m going to tell you is going to sound crazy, but I can prove it some. So just hear me out.”

She nodded, big eyed.

“Sunnydale wasn’t an ordinary town. It was a Hellmouth, an opening to hell dimensions. The biggest one in the world, actually. Demons and such from the depths could get up here from Sunnydale, it attracted all types of darkness.”

Spike paused. “You were not ordinary either. You were a powerful witch, and you got involved with another witch named Willow. You weren’t like most folk in Sunnydale, who were in denial about all the demon activity in the town. You saw it.”

“Any way, Willow was one of the scoobies. They were a bunch of kids who helped the Slayer. The Slayer was a girl with a mystical calling to kill vamp and and other demons. One girl in every generation. . . this one’s name was Buffy, and she was the best Slayer there ever was. Willow was her best friend, and you were Willow’s lover. You and Willow were witches.”

“Wait a. . . a minute! I was gay?”

“Yeah. You and Willow were in love, but Willow had a problem with misusing magic. Eventually you broke up with her because she did some manipulative stuff to you with magic. But you did get back together, later. Then you and Buffy were shot by a wacko, and you died.”

“Last spring we were involved in a battle with this really evil entity who wanted to end the world, another bloody apocalypse. We got this amulet and Buffy gave it to me to wear. On the day of the battle it went wild and burned up all these super vampires and caused the hell mouth to collapse. I died, but somehow was brought back to life because of the amulet. I think all the mystical stuff might have brought you back, too.”

Tara was silent for a long time. "But it doesn’t make sense. Demons and mystical stuff. Me, a witch?"

"Don’t forget lesbian.”

“Well, that part, it. . . it actually kind of makes sense.” Tara’s cheeks turned pink.

Spike chuckled. “You were a good witch. Ethical. And I can prove some of this stuff, but I don’t want to scare you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not what I look like either. I’m a good guy, but I have a demon, too. I could bring it out for a minute so you could see.” He shrugged at her blank expression. “My face changes.”

Since she just looked at him in a confused way, Spike went into game face.

She squealed.. Then she stopped and looked at him with a critical eye. “Can I touch? Might be fake.”

Spike shrugged.

She drew warm fingers over his face and gasped. “You’re real. And you’re seeking something.” Her fingers continued to drift across his face. “Peace. Let me rest in peace”

She hummed the song he had once sung to Buffy, a song she had never heard. It was Spike’s turn to gasp. “Witch!”

She frowned at him. “You're a predator, I can tell by the teeth. What exactly do you hunt?”