Summer's Residence

Early in the morning, sun still an hour away from rising, Tara fixed a mug of hot chocolate for the man who sat at their kitchen table. She admired him in a way, finding his gentle nature with their youngest and his devotion to them inspiring. He was like an anti-hero that had been thrown into a destiny few could see.

He sat lazily in the chair closest to where she stood and laid his head back so he could keep and eye on her. Normally, if he did this to anyone else, they would get nervous and tell him to stop. But Tara didn't mind, she understood that he was just keeping a watchful eye and quite possibly not even looking at her, but through her - lost in his thoughts.

Setting down his yellow mug, she sat in the chair beside him, taking in the smell of drying rainwater and aged cologne. "Why don't you get some sleep, Spike?"

There was a groan. "Not tired, just thinking, sweet."

A pet name. Everyone who knew Spike, knew their pet names. She had never had one. Quiet and out of the way, they never really interacted enough for her to have a name. But ever since Buffy passed away, and the group had come back together, Spike and Tara had become part of a bigger whole.

They were 'family'.

The word rolled out on the tongue like lemon drops. It was a word her mother had used before she passed on. Her family had left the minute her mother was put into the ground. Now she had that feeling back. This was her family now.

"Did you ask her about the Masquerade?" Tara asked, getting up to fix Sunday breakfast for Dawn and Willow.

Now she had his full attention. "I did. She says she doesn't want to go." He drummed his fingers on the warm mug. "But I think I got a plan."

"Oh?" she opened the fridge and took out the eggs and sausage. "What might that be?"

Spike stood up, silently agreeing to help her as he went to the cabinet and got out the honey and salt. "There's a place out in the city, it's called 'The Manor' - a mansion, that's rented out every month for this goofy little shindig for Goths, vampire wannabes - you name it, they're there. You'd think it would be nothing but a bunch of nutcases dancing about in fancy Victorian outfits and fake teeth, but their pretty authentic and wild with the whole thing. It's got that whole Anne Rice business down to a few mimicking Lestats. Absolutely bloody fascinating if you ask me."

Letting the sausage cook, Tara turned toward him, already aware of where this was going. "Instead of taking her to a deluded high school Masquerade party, you're taking her to a real one?"

Sighing, he sat back down in his seat heavily. "Knew you wouldn't like it."

"No!" She laughed quietly so as not to wake the others. "No-no, I think that's a much better idea. It might boost her confidence or maybe win her some new friends." The young witch took the eggs off the burner, "Dawn's not happy with her own age, her own 'generation'. She seems to be a lot happier running around in yours, so I think if she's with you then anything. besides maybe hunting or you know. then her life will be happier. Even, I would much rather she goes to a party with you, where I know you'll be watching her. You're her bodyguard with big gnashing teeth."

Spike smirked, sipping the hot chocolate. "Xander's let Willow and you watch Monty Python one too many times." Setting the mug down, he stood up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be back after the Bit goes to the store with Red, Sweet."

Watching him go to the back door, Sun almost peeking over the horizon, Tara touched her cheek. He slid a black hoodie over his head and walked out the door like nothing special had just gone on between them.

When Willow walked in a second later and kissed the same cheek - Tara couldn't help but smile.