Summary: Tara's father had always told her the Devil was inside her. And, one steamy summer at their family home, those words become prophetic in a way no one could have imagined. A darkish ficlet. Spike/Tara. *COMPLETED, April 2004* NC17

Author's Note: Sort of a darkish, smutty Spara piece. This assumes Spike never returned to Sunnydale after Dru left him and, instead, went on a bit of a rampage throughout the U.S. Tara has yet to leave her family and is stuck in that hellhole until...

Had it only been two weeks ago that their small rural community had lived in peace?

Tara couldn’t really remember. She’d never bought the idyllic picture the locals painted of their county. Good folk doin’ good work. What so many colored as a paradise had been a personal hell for her, a prison that kept her shackled to a father and brother who worked her like a slave. No comfort or solace now that her mother was dead. Constant shame, guilt, and disgust thrown upon her simply for what she was, for having more power in her little pinky than any of them would ever have in all their lives.

She’d often fantasized of the day when she would move away and be free of them once and for all.

But that didn’t mean the deaths hadn’t shocked her just as much as everyone else.

The small town of Chapel was the big attraction in these parts. It had two churches, a bar, a gas station, three stores, and its own honest to god post office. The most fun to be had trapped out in the middle of nowhere.

But it had never had two bloody corpses, thrown about like paper dolls, their necks savaged brutally, and the blood drained from their bodies.

That had been two weeks ago, and the rumors had flown. It was ‘them damn Mexicans moving in and bringing their crime with ‘em’. Or ‘some beasties in the woods now that the government won’t let us hunt ‘em no more’. But the most commonly held belief, by far, was that the Devil was among them, punishing those sinners who weren’t protected by the Lord’s prayers.

And, every time this last theory was proposed, Tara’s father and brother would give her a good, long look, saying all too clearly, “It’s your fault this has come down upon the rest of us.”

Goddess, Tara hated living here…

And the second attack had only made things worse, because that one had struck much closer to home.

It had been exactly a week after the first attack. Fear had died down, and the rumors faded to some psychopath that had driven through. Even if the panic had still been full on, it wouldn’t have discouraged Tara from her evening walk. Friday night the rest of her family always went down to the bar in Chapel, leaving her behind to clean up after them. Fortunately, she’d gotten lightning-quick at cleaning and usually had most of the night to herself.

The same lands that the locals complained they couldn’t hunt on had been declared a national park ten years before. Most of the townsfolk hated it; Tara loved it. The only time she really felt at peace was when she was alone in the forest, the soft songs of the birds overhead and the wind whispering to her through the branches in the trees.

That hot summer day, though, it was completely quiet. As if the sun’s sweltering heat had put even the birds to sleep. Tara’s oversized t-shirt clung to her chest with sweat, and she’d nearly drained her water bottle before she saw them.

The day lingered late in the summer, and even after the sun fully set, she could still see clearly. Her brother’s dear old friend Jim having his fun with another of the local girls. Tara had never liked Jim – he’d always made sure to use the word ‘cow’ around her as often as possible – and she was already scrambling in retreat when she heard the screams.

Now, Tara had always led a very sheltered life. In fact, one could – and she did – say that she’d been sheltered from life. But, much to her surprise, she discovered in that moment that she wasn’t timid or a coward. She turned back and ran to help those screaming.

And that was when she first saw him.

She knew what he was right away, and some basic instinct caused her to screech to a halt at the edge of the clearing, clutching at a tree when her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. It was too late to save Jim and his companion for the night, anyway.

The demon heard her, looked up as he fed upon his latest kill. Tara got the impression of inhuman golden eyes before she turned away. She may not have liked Jim, but the sight of the demon’s face buried deep in his neck, drinking away his life force… It was more than Tara could stand to see.

But it’s what you are, a mean-spirited voice that sounded all too like her father’s whispered in the back of her mind. Demon woman, wicked, sinful…

The memory of her father’s words brought her to her knees, rather than the sight of death before her. And what, really, did that say about her? About her humanity? She was practically shaking now but still ventured to look up one last time.

The demon had finished feeding on Jim’s body now. Its mouth was, quite amazingly, free from any blood. A tidy eater. Not wasteful.

And, in that moment, Tara didn’t see a monster attacking humanity, but rather one animal feeding off another. She’d seen it countless times before, cats with mice, swallows with flies, even humans with cattle. And it wasn’t evil; it just was.

“The devil’s within you, witch,” her father’s voice echoed.

But, in that moment, it had no effect on her. Because, truly, this was the devil before her right now. And he wasn’t something terrifying or horrible. In fact, in his own way he was…

“I know what you are,” she informed him calmly, naturally, as if this were the way things were meant to be.

He cocked his head to one side as if she’d said the first really interesting thing he’d heard in years. And then, before her very eyes, his demonic features melted away, leaving only a man in its place. A man with snowy white hair, razor’s edge cheekbones, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

…Beautiful…

“Better’n the rest of these wankers know, then, right luv?” He winked at her.

She started in surprise at that. She hadn’t really expected him to speak, to have an accent, to be anything…human. “They’re not too far off,” she countered. “They say you’re the devil.”

He chuckled at that, and his smile was breathtaking, his laughter rich and vibrant and full of life. “You’ll give me a swollen ego with talk like that, dove,” he practically purred.

It made Tara shiver, but not from fear. “What’s a vampire doing out in the middle of nowhere?” she asked conversationally, watching him rise to his feet with a liquid, ethereal grace.

He shrugged. “Plenty of food, and not a slayer as far as the eye can see,” he retorted cheekily.

Tara’s mother had taught her about these things. About demons and vampires and slayers and everything else that existed in that magical realm just beneath the surface of their world. An exciting, dangerous world that few ever saw. She’d never met another person who’d even come close to glimpsing that world, and now one of those Others was standing right before her.

“O-Oh,” she said shyly, looking down at her feet.

And that one second was all it took for him to close the distance between them. She let out a little squeak of alarm, but he caught her by the wrist, holding her close to his body. He sniffed the evening air and the perfume of her hair before sighing softly.

“You’re not like the others.”

“No,” she said simply. It was the only word needed, really.

His lips brushed lightly over her temple, a cool breeze in the summer’s heat. “You gotta name?”

She felt very unsure of herself then, frightened and confused as to what she was supposed to do. She’d never gotten this close to a man before, let alone one this attractive. Her intelligence told her all too clearly that he was interested, but another part of her – the insecurity that had built up after a lifetime of being told she was ugly and worthless – couldn’t believe that anyone would ever want to touch her.

“Do you?” she retorted defensively, instead of replying.

He gave her a small, knowing smile. “Spike,” he whispered against her heated flesh, the icy chill of his breath raising goosebumps over her neck.

She gulped when his lips brushed her jugular gently. She knew that it was a supremely bad idea to let a vampire this close to her, but she just didn’t have the will to summon the power that would push him away.

“Tara,” she finally answered his question.

Her voice quivered with a desire she’d never felt before. Her body, however, obeyed her mind’s wishes and pulled away from him, back to a safe distance where her magic would be able to save her in time should he choose to attack.

He just smirked that irascible smirk and held his hands up before him in an innocent gesture. “Lovely name,” he informed her, grinned, and was gone. Just like that.

Tara blinked in surprise at the place he had just occupied. She’d never seen anything move that fast in all her life. Belatedly, she realized that not even her powers would’ve been able to save her in time. He’d been able to kill her any time he wanted, but he hadn’t…

And that made her not afraid of his powers, after all.

Spike lay back on the mattress in the deserted old shack he’d taken for his home during his stay and tried to forget the scent of soft lilac. The little witch he’d met three nights before was haunting his dreams now, looking at him with soft blue-gray eyes. Looking at him with innocence and beauty and hunger.

Rolling over, he grabbed the nearest bottle of JD, tipped it heavenwards, and drank deep. Didn’t need some infatuation messing with his new life, not now that he had finally escaped from the old. From the pain and rejection and betrayal. Nope, certainly didn’t want another bint messing up the sweet thing he had going for himself now…

With that thought came the memory of his last fight with Dru, and he bit back the ache in his chest with more liquor. Don’t need Dru. Don’t need anymore. Slayer of Slayers is what I am. Can do whatever I bloody well please…

Except…

Except it had been such a relief to just have someone to talk to after these long months alone. He’d chatted it up with a couple of his midnight snacks, but that was never the same. Not like talking to someone who wasn’t afraid of him, who saw him as a man, who understood…

“Oh, bugger,” he grumbled. “Stop that right now. Not gonna get all puppy-eyed over some witch with curves.” The words echoed in the lonely emptiness of the shack.

And he drank some more.

Tara had been waiting two weeks now. And, after that long, agonizing wait, hope slowly left her. She was alone again, just as she had been ever since her mother died. She’d been foolish to even hope that her handsome devil would come back to her.

It hadn’t been pretty reporting Jim and his girlfriend’s deaths. Just made everyone more suspicious of her.

“You did it!” Bobby had screamed at her that night. “You killed Jimmy! You…witch!”

“We’ll get the devil out of her,” her father had said coldly, “even if we hafta beat him out.”

Fortunately, aside from her brother’s initial slap, she hadn’t received further injury. But, for the first time, she was terrified that it would come to her. She’d scrambled at their every whim during these two long weeks, tried to be as subservient and harmless as she could manage.

But nothing would ever erase the fear in her family’s eyes when they looked at her. And now she’d lost all hope of speaking again with the one creature she’d met who could understand what it was like not to be fully human…

Or so she’d thought.

But that night, long after she’d put her drunken father and brother to bed, she felt…something. A tingle of power. Something not quite right in the flow of life around her. Something undead.

As soon as she placed the feeling, she was out of bed, not even bothering to find shoes as she slipped out into the summer night. It was near midnight now, and everything was pitch-black save for the small porch light of the MaClay residence. One dim light alone, standing bravely against the darkness.

It was enough for her to see that the barn door was slightly ajar.

Her family had sold off their farmland generations ago, but the barn was still on their property, and they frequently rented out the space. Howard Tucker’s hay bails usually, leftover store from the previous season’s harvest.

The scent to the hay hit her as she slipped through the door and into the blackness beyond. She froze for a moment, unable to see a thing. But the moon was out tonight, if only half full. It was strange how the night could seem completely black when you were inside, but once you got used to it, it could be as bright as day.

That was what Tara felt as her eyes adjusted. First only able to make out the stark white of her nightgown in the blackness, and then placing more and more shapes. Rakes, hoes, hay bales…

And him.

“’lo there, dove.” His voice was a salve to her troubled conscience.

“It’s been two weeks,” she countered. “I thought you’d left.”

“Stayed away on purpose.” Something was flitting through his fingers. The hiss of a match lighting, and she could see that it was a cigarette. He lit it and took several deep drags of nicotine. “Show that I didn’t miss you. Prove to myself that I don’t need you, don’t need anyone.”

Tara studied him curiously, the sharp planes of his beautiful face lit up by that tiny circle of orange light. “Then why are you here?” she asked simply.

His brow furrowed at that. “’m a demon, luv. Take whatever I want.” His eyes raked up and down her body suggestively.

Tara blushed and belatedly realized how she must look. Lacy white nightgown, lured from her bed by a creature of the night. Virginal, almost like a sacrificial victim. The wicked look in his eyes told her all too well that he was thinking the same thing.

She surprised him by taking a step closer. “I missed you,” she informed him. She was right before him now, and it almost looked like his body had vanished, just a floating white head, but she knew better, knew that it was just the black leather she’d seen him wearing before that camouflaged his body. Her hand reached out slowly and found the hard musculature of his chest, caressed him through the silk of his shirt.

He gulped at her touch before he forced the wicked smirk back onto his face. “Don’t you know you’re playin’ with fire, dove?”

She shrugged. “It’s beautiful,” she answered.

The hand with the cigarette dropped, then, and he wrapped both arms around her waist, holding her tight against him. Her eyes widened at the hard length that pressed against her stomach. She’d never imagined she’d feel a man like this…

With the tip of his cigarette, he lit up the small oil lamp they kept out here for emergencies. The kerosene light seemed safe and warm, surrounding them with its glow, and banishing the wavering shadows to the far corners of the barn.

Tara let him take her hand, let him lead her back to the soft bed of hay, let herself fall back onto its cushion and watched his body cover hers, a sleek panther intent on its latest prey.

She spread her thighs for him, and he kissed her. A gasp escaped the union of their lips at the intensity of him. She’d never thought just kissing a man could be like this. He tasted of bourbon and blood and sex, and she just wanted more. Sensing her need, his tongue plunged past her parted lips, plundering her mouth and savoring his conquest.

She moaned against his onslaught, hands clutching at the leather on his back desperately. But, goddess, it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him, his bare skin icy against her warmth. All those wicked pleasures her family and church had kept her from for so long…

She breathed a sigh of relief when her hands managed to find their way inside his jacket and under his shirt, caressing his flesh hungrily, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath her fingertips. He was situated fully between her spread legs now, grinding his hardness into her through the rough fabric of his jeans. And, no matter how much she touched him now, she felt like it would never be enough.

“Filthy witches, consorting with the devil!” her father spat.

“Inside me!” she gasped aloud.

He grinned then, lowered his head so that he licked a sensual and possessive line up her throat, tasting her sweat and desire. The flickering light made his eyes look black, filled with flecks of gold just as she’d seen him when he wore the demon’s mask.

His hand moved down between their bodies, found his zipper, pulled down. She couldn’t see much in the sharp shadows, but she felt him against her thigh when he pushed up the skirts of her nightgown around her waist. And he felt large and long and, surprisingly, velvety soft…

“Tell me you want me,” he whispered huskily against her throat, even as he ripped aside her plain white-cotton panties.

“I want you,” she agreed breathlessly, clinging to him now in anticipation of something so primal she couldn’t even begin to describe it. But she had the feeling he’d soon teach her the vocabulary to explain the blinding lust that flowed through her veins, making her blood boil…

Another kiss as he coated the tip of his cock with her juices. He couldn’t help but grin against her lips at how wet she was for him, how much she wanted him. It was nice to just be desired again…

She’d steeled herself up in anticipation, waiting, but then he didn’t enter her and his kiss lingered…

She relaxed for one moment, and that was when he thrust in deep, violently ripping apart her virginity, taking her innocence and making it his.

She cried out at the pain, and his hand covered her mouth, silencing her screams. Blood and sex and lust filled the air, and it almost overwhelmed him, but he managed to stay still, stay deep inside her and let the pain fade.

“G-Goddess…” she whimpered like a fervent prayer, suddenly frightened that her father had been right all along. Because now that she’d finally let the devil inside her, she knew he was killing her, ripping her in two…

“Hush, luv,” he soothed, surprised at his own gentleness. He realized suddenly that he didn’t want to harm this girl. And it frightened him a little. It had been so long since he’d wanted to cause anything but pain. But this one… This one was his. “Always hurts the first time,” he assured her. “It’ll pass…” Tender kisses traced up and down her face, as soft as the brush of a butterfly’s wings. “…And then ‘ll make it so good for you, my pretty petal…”

His words calmed her, eased the pain just a little bit. Enough to realize that she wasn’t actually dying, at least. She managed a tight-lipped smile, fingernails relaxing from where they’d dug into his flesh during that first painful penetration. “I’ll be fine.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Liar,” he accused, kissing away the tear on her cheek.

Her smile was more genuine at that.

And he did move then, although not too much, just rocking his hips gently into hers. Fresh twinges of pain hit her with the first couple of thrusts, but they were echoes now, fading away. She was just starting to think that this wasn’t so terrible after all when he struck something deep within her. Something amazing.

“D-Do that again?” her voice sounded hoarse with need.

He grinned and did.

A gasp of pleasure escaped her lips, and she continued to urge him on, her own hips grinding back into his now, desperate to discover what it was inside her that felt this spectacular…

“Can feel it, can’t you?” he whispered dirty nothings in her ear. “The way your tight, wet pussy squeezes me. Tryin’ to squeeze my cock dry, you are. Takin’ me so deep. Wantin’ me inside you so bad…”

Anywhere else, she would have been embarrassed – no, mortified – by his words. But now she couldn’t think of anything but him inside her, moving ever deeper, striking a tender spot so deep she hadn’t even imagined it had existed before now.

Her limbs tangled blindly with his, trying to wrap him completely around her, take all of him inside. His words fell in a heated staccato over her flesh, and she felt like she would burn up at the intensity of it. A flame consumed by his passions. And, oh, it was wonderful…

Sparks and black flashes were overcoming her before she even knew what was happening, like drowning in warm water and being struck by lightning all at once, and she screamed her throat raw in ecstasy, still clinging to his body.

She felt him, too, felt him shake in pleasure above her, felt this demon flood her womb with his seed, marking her as his forever. It felt wild and forbidden – and even perverse…like the ultimate act of defiance – and she couldn’t imagine why she’d never struck out against her oppressors like this before.

“Yesss!” Her jubilant scream echoed through the night.

“It’s inside you. And it’s ugly. And it’s evil.”

The two of them collapsed together in satiated bliss. Tara shifted uncomfortably in her torn and bloodstained nightgown. She wanted to feel more of him against her suddenly. Wanted them naked and intertwined once more.

“You got to keep the demon down. Obey our laws and stamp it out.”

They shared intimate smiles as they stripped, softly caressing naked flesh. He lifted her up into his lap, and she slid down over his cock, taking every inch of him deep within her body.

“The devil’s within you, witch.” And she laughed at her father’s words, laughed that they’d ever managed to hurt her.

Because now the devil really was within her.

And, oh, it was Heaven…

Not your usual Spara fic, ne? Ah well, feedback is much appreciated, as always. ^_^