Disclaimer: Joss said to write fan fic...so that’s what I’m doing.

Author’s note: Xmas prezzie for Copykween. In this fic, we are going to pretend that Tara’s brain didn’t get returned to normal during the course of ‘The Gift’, Giles has already gone to England and Buffy‘s still in heaven. Thanks to Bloodytearsoflife for the fab betaing once again. You Rocks my Socks!

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Dawn waved goodbye to Willow and Xander as they pulled out of the driveway in Xander’s car, destination: someplace meditative in the desert. Willow had been hemming and hawing over going on a vacation/meditation seminar for a couple of weeks now. With Buffy gone, it was Willow who had stepped into Buffy’s role, keeping everyone safe, and using magic to do it too. With the added responsibility of having to take care of Tara, who was still in need of one on one care, even Spike could see the wear on Willow’s already fragile control beginning to wane.

Dawn closed the door of her house and turned back to see Spike handing her a text book.

“Someone’s got a test, tomorrow,” he noted.

With a huff, Dawn took the book and headed upstairs, grumbling that summer school sucked.

Spike smiled sadly at her antics. The Bit needed a parent, like most 15 year olds did. It was just unfair that the PTB had taken her mom and sis away so early in her life. His reflective mood was interrupted by a loud crash from the dining room.

Tara was sitting at the table, covered in paint. The table was covered in paint. Hell, the whole room was covered in paint. It had been the Nibblet’s idea to get Tara interested in painting, as a way to express herself when her brain and her mouth weren’t communicating well.

It was a good idea, until they stopped watching her like a hawk. Spike stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a damp cloth, and shed his duster.

“That’s a right mess you’ve made Glinda,” he started, as he wiped the blue paint from Tara’s fingers.

Tara giggled and pointed at the now blue portion of the wall. “Birds!”

Spike nodded and resumed wiping off the paint. She had it everywhere and in all colours of the rainbow. She had made quite the mess and she seemed very pleased about it. Tara kept pointing to various parts of the room sized canvass she had used and muttering significant parts of it. There was a black spot on the floor by her feet that she referred to as ‘boys’ and a pink smear on the wall by the front hall that was ‘medicine‘. Spike took the whole room in his critical gaze. Her throwing paint all over the room could have a meaning, sure. He’d had enough experience with the mentally unstable to know that there was method in all manner of madness.

He pulled her to her feet, her clothes dripping with paint and picked her up, heading for the bathroom and the tub.

“Nibblet? Mind handing me a change of Glinda’s clothes?” he called at the top of the stairs.

Dawn came out of her room, curious. “My god, Spike, what did she do?” the teen asked, going into Tara and Willow’s room and returning with a pile of clothes.

“Painted a pretty canvas of the dinning room is what she did,” he noted, adjusting the wiggling blond in his arms.

“This I’ve got to see!” Dawn put the pile of clothes on the edge of the bathroom sink and fled down stairs. “Oh my God!” came the shriek, followed by the sound of her feet trailing back up the stairs. “Do you need help getting her clean again?” she asked with her most innocent smile, hoping to get out of studying, but unfortunately for her, Spike saw through it all.

“No, I’m good, and you have a test tomorrow...”

“Ya, ya,” she muttered returning to her room and shutting the door.

Tara wasn’t known for liking baths since her encounter with Glory. There was often screaming. Spike set Tara on the closed toilet lid and turned on the tap, filling the tub with warm water. Spike looked over at the painted blond, who was mumbling about clouds and whispers. There were some remarkable similarities between Dru and Tara. A thought occurred to him that Dru might know what was going on with Tara’s condition, might be able to decipher what Glinda was babbling about.

But then Dru would also try to eat the Nibblet and Glinda for his troubles.

“Right then, Glinda, time to get you clean,” he noted with a tug to her shirt.

Tara took the hint and began to awkwardly pull her clothes off of her body. Spike reached over to turn off the tap and pulled the shower curtain closed half way, keeping his back to Tara, giving her some measure of privacy. Despite Tara’s mind being troubled, Spike knew that deep down, Glinda was still in there and still capable of embarrassment.

He didn’t have to ask when it was time to turn around, a giddy and squealing Tara jumped into the tub, without prodding, splashing water all over Spike and his paint covered clothes. Spike took a look at his sodden shirt and sighed, peeling it from his body and tossing it into the neat pile of Tara’s paint covered clothes.

Behind the curtain, Tara was splashing around playfully, getting more water on the floor than he had expected.

“Gills!” laughed Tara behind the curtain.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her exclamation. It was as if she was three steps ahead of what she was talking about. That is, if she was talking about the water...And that was when she was having a good day, a day when she didn’t act like she had a million creepy crawlies in her head. The vampire poked his head around the shower curtain to check her paint free status. The water was a brownish colour from all the paint that had coated her arms and face.

“Time to get out, Glinda,” he observed, his eyes catching hers.

The idea had been to get the paint off of her, a thorough bath would have to wait until Willow got back.

“Bones all floaty, brown. Dinner?” asked Tara softly.

She didn’t look like she wanted to get out. She reached for the soap and started to rub it over her body. He crouched down beside the tub and handed her a loofa that had body wash on it.

“The germs all over,” she whimpered taking the loofa from him and scrubbing her arms vigorously.

“Really wish I could figure out what you are talking about Glinda,” Spike sighed.

There was a swish of water as Tara’s soapy arms raised themselves out of the bath water. Her fingers reached out to cup his face tenderly. “Blood night and the crawling,” she said sincerely.

With a smile, Spike took the loofa out of her hand and tugged at her hands, drawing her out of the water. Her naked form dripped dirty water all over the bathroom floor, as Spike carefully wrapped a towel around her body, careful to keep his hands from encountering Tara skin that wasn’t necessary. Using a smaller towel, he rubbed at her hair gently. Slowly she reached up to touch his hand, causing him to stop his actions, leaving the towel on her head. Tara turned around, her big eyes peering out from under the towel brightly.

“Night, door,” she observed. “Evil soup not this hair. Please? Shiny cellar of ghosts...”

Spike shrugged his shoulders, and handed her the clean clothes and walked out of the bathroom. He had hoped that he had gotten what she wanted right. He slipped down the corridor, needlessly rushing past Buffy’s room, in which the Bot was stored until she was needed. He peeked in the Nibblet’s room to be faced with the empty bed, and open text book, and no Dawn.

“Dawn?”

Tara stepped out of the bathroom her clothes on but askew. “Shiny?” She joined Spike’s search for Dawn.

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Spike and Tara found Dawn standing on the dinning room table.

“Bit? What the bloody hell are you doing?” asked the vampire taken aback. “You’re supposed to be studying...”

Dawn turned in place on the table, her arms out and looked at the vivid colours of the room.

“Dawn?”

Unexpectedly Dawn snapped to and jumped off the table.

“It’s weird...Ok, not weird, but I kinda understand. There was a moment of clarity there.” Dawn shrugged. “I’ll go back to studying...grr you are worse than Giles.”

“Oy!” Spike protested, “You take that back!”

“Not bloody likely,” she called down to him as she travelled up the stairs.

“Heart like night,” Tara giggled, before she started to climb up on the table too.

“Hey, now,” started Spike, his arms reaching out , not sure whether to steady her or to help her down.

“Tall, full of pain, full of...” Tara shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, scratching at invisible nasties that were attacking her.

Quickly Spike took Tara’s hands and pulled her from the table, catching her body in his arms once again. At first, Glinda wiggled and tried to get free of his grip, his path taking both of them into the living room to sit down, but as they approached the couch, she stilled and snuggled into his arms happily, starting to play with the collar of his shirt.

“How’s about you watch some TV while ol’Spike cleans up the mess in the dining room?” he asked, squatting down to place her on the couch.

She refused to let go.

“Ok Glinda, let go, pet.” Her body on the couch, Spike snaked his hands towards her arms that were firmly locked behind his head.

“My night not shiny. Donate peanut butter?”

She still wouldn’t let go. With a sigh, Spike sat down on the couch awkwardly and reached for the remote. The paint was going to be all that much harder to clean when it dried. Relaxing on the couch and flipping through channels, Spike suddenly had a very clingy Glinda on his chest.

“Street where you live,” she mumbled, before getting caught up in the terribly strange lives of Passions.

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When it came time for Spike to clean up the mess, having detangled himself from Tara, Dawn screeched and insisted that he couldn’t clean up the paint.

“Look, I don’t know why, but I know what she means when I’m standing up there, looking at all the different colours she’s thrown around the room. If you wash it off, it’ll be gone, and maybe it’ll help us find out how to fix her?” begged Dawn on her way up to bed for the night.

He thought on that for a moment before checking to see if Dawn had really gone up the stairs and stepping up onto the table.

From his perch on the dinning room table, Spike saw a new perspective on all the vivid colours that Tara had thrown about the room, but to him, he still had no sense of clarity that Dawn had, or any idea what it was all about.

“Red nose, shiny there, not night,” giggled Tara from the doorway, her eyes laughing along with her mouth.

Tara grabbed Spike’s hand and led him off the table, that was coated in green and red.

“Boys!” she pointed to the black stain on the floor. “Willow!” she said, this time she pointed at the purple splotch next to her.

Spike watched as she took delight in pointing out all the different colours around the room. She’d been happier today than she had in a while and he found himself smiling along with her: something he hadn’t done since Buffy...went away.

Tara grabbed his other hand, and half pushed him to a white spot on the floor and motioned him to lie down. He looked sceptically up at her from his position on the floor while she moved towards the pink spot on the wall.

“Medicine.”

Spike shook his head sadly. He didn’t understand.

“I want to understand, Glinda,” he conceded as he raised himself up off the floor and the dried white pain stain.

“No!” she moaned, walking away from the wall. She brought her hands down furiously in the air. She was frustrated, Spike could tell.

Swiftly, before she could hurt herself, Spike grabbed her arms and stilled her movements. Dawn was in bed and it was time for good little white witches to be in bed too. In one fluid motion he crouched and hoisted her over his shoulder, fireman style and headed towards the stairs. Her giggles grew louder as he walked up the stairs towards the room that she and Willow shared. Then something changed. Tara wasn’t giggling any more and he felt...Tara was feeling up his ass. He was sure of it. He put her down on her feet with a thump and stepped back down a few steps from her.

“What the bloody hell was that?” he asked more harshly than he intended.

Tara visibly gulped and turned bright red, before running into her room and shutting the door. Confused as he was at her actions, he couldn’t help but grin at them. He had always thought that Glinda was die hard for the girls, but that lingering scent of arousal on the air told him different. He stood in silence for a moment, contemplating his next move. Did he leave her be and start to clean up the dining room, or did he make sure she was ok? His vampire hearing made the choice for him.

On the other side of her door, Tara was muttering to herself. “Stupid, stupid.”

Spike knocked on Tara’s door wondering just what would happen when she opened the door. Tentatively, Tara opened the door, avoiding his gaze.

“Glinda? Everything alright?” he asked softly.

With a twitch, Tara shook her head and wrapped arms around herself nervously. Spike could hear the clock on the mantle piece downstairs tick away the seconds as they stood there, Tara fidgeting nervously.

“Right then,” Spike said, taking step to back away.

Suddenly Tara reached out and grabbed his arm, her hands flying to his face, and grasping him firmly, she pressed her mouth to his, soft lips caressing his own.

Giving into the sensation of her lips against his, Spike wrapped his hands around her waist, drawing her closer. Her scent flooded his nostrils, essence of Tara and arousal like he’d never smelt without Red in the room.

Red.

“Tara,” he gasped pushing away from her gently. “What about Red?”

Tara looked back at him with big eyes, a sadness portrayed in them that he didn’t understand. She looked around the room as if trying to formulate her answer. “Hospitals and medicine, Willow is a furry bunny,” she finally articulated, frustrated by her inability to communicate. “Please, take,” she continued, tears threatening to fall.

Unable to watch Glinda cry, Spike stepped forward and took her into his arms once again. Their lips met again, tenderly brushing against the others. Stepping into the room, Spike closed the door behind him.

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They never spoke about that night. Willow came back from her vacation refreshed and with new ideas about how to get Tara back to normal. She had taken one look at the dining room and known exactly what was going on in Tara’s brain.

Glinda’s ability to communicate was restored within the hour.

From his cot in the basement, Spike could hear the two witches making love rejoicing in Tara’s restoration. The vampire couldn’t help but think just what he and Glinda had done less than a week ago in that very bed. It made him hard just thinking about it, combined with the sounds and smells coming from the master bedroom upstairs.

Just before dawn, the basement door opened and Glinda gracefully descended, smelling of sex and Spike had to hold back the growl lodged in his throat.

“Spike?” she queried into the darkness.

He hoped she would just go away, a cranky mood had descended upon him. Tara moved towards the cot, holding her robe shut against the coolness of the basement.

“Spike, I need to talk to you. I...I need to tell you about that night,” she started.

Spike looked up from his gaze that had been holding steady on the floor.

“It was a thank you,” she stated simply. “It was the only way I thought I could make you understand that I appreciated what you did for me. It was the wrong way to go about it, I know that now.” Tara leaned over the cot and placed a kiss on Spike’s cheek. “I don’t regret doing it, I just wish I had taken your feelings into account and for that I’m sorry, Spike. You’re one of my best friends.”

Spike nodded slowly. “Right fond of you too Glinda.”

Tara smiled and turned towards the stairs. “Men aren’t all that bad after all,” she whispered.

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