A/N: Hey you guys, I am so so so so soooo sorry that it took me so long to update this! Hate me if you will. I haven't been in town for more than two days for the past month, so I didn't have a chance. Also, this is my last chapter, and I am really going to miss Tara and Spot. I never thought I'd say that, but I am. Who knows, maybe I'll write another story and incorporate them into it?!? Well, here goes, the conclusion to Blessed Be!

Chapter Eleven

Days rolled by. It felt as if Tara was living in a haze. The streets of New York were a blur that she could not seem to focus on. She performed her job everyday as if she were a machine, not really understanding what she was doing while she was doing it, but still getting it done. Cruelly enough, Spot was always in the back of her mind. All that she could see was his face as he left. There was such hurt in his eyes, such pain. Just thinking about it made her want to cry. She knew that he would be alright; Spot was a survivor, unlike her. She was like her father.

Tara sat on her bed, staring at the gun. Dangerous, gleaming, and enticing. When had it come to this? Tara asked herself. It was a useless question, because she knew when it happened. It was when she decided to throw out any promise of a future when she hurt Spot. She had been right all along, she was like her father. How could she not be? Just look at what she was going to do. She had even written a note to Spot, if he would even want to read it. She didn't blame him if he didn't want to; she wouldn't.

Tara searched her mind, trying to find a reason that she shouldn't just pull the trigger. There was nothing, she was nothing, and her future only held more nothingness. So here's for nothingness, she decided.

And by placing the barrel of the gun in her mouth, she changed that future of nothingness.

Spot was wandering the streets of Brooklyn, wondering how much time he should give Tara before going over to her apartment and personally knocking some sense into her. He knew why she treated him like that on the last day that they had talked. She was afraid. She thought of herself as her father, and she was afraid for Spot's well-being. He shook his had at her idiocy and stubbornness. As he was walking by a small consignment shop, he spotted something familiar in the window. And by walking in the store, he confirmed his suspicions. It was the necklace that Tara had been wearing the night at Medda's. That fateful night when he realized that he not only loved her, but he also lost her. She had mentioned that it was her mother's. She must have really needed the money to sell it, he knew how attached she was to her mother's jewelry. He suddenly got worried. If she was so poor off, he needed to help her.

When he asked the cashier how much the necklace was, she told him an outrageous amount. He knew that she had seen how quickly he had spotted the necklace and walked straight to it. Spot didn't care. He knew that he needed to get to Tara, and quickly. He tossed down thirty dollars on the counter, and ran quickly out of the shop, making a beeline for Tara's apartment.

Spot dashed up the stairs of her apartment and pounded on her door. There was no answer. He tried the knob and realized that it was locked. Spot backed up ten steps and ran straight at the door. At the last moment, he dropped his shoulder and slammed into the door, knocking it off of it's hinges.

The first thing that Spot noticed when he walked into the room was the gun on the floor. His heart stopped. He looked at the dresser and saw a note addressed to him. Tears welled up in his eyes and started to fall. Spot looked on the bed and saw Tara's unmoving form. As if in slow motion, he made his way to the bed, knowing what he would find.

Without realizing that he was doing so, he dropped to his knees next to the bed and lay his head down next to her body, crying for his lost love.

"Spot?"

His head rose slowly, thinking he was hearing things. Tara was alive, her eyes were open, and she was looking at him with curiosity in their depths.

"Tara...I...I...I thought you had..." he couldn't get the words out. He took her hand, opened her palm, and placed a kiss in the center of it.

A bitter smile crossed over Tara's face. "I tried. I wanted to. Hell, I even had the barrel in my mouth. But, I couldn't do it. I realized that nothing could be so bad as to want to do something that final."

Tara covered Spot's hand with her own and looked into his eyes.

"Spot, do know what that means? I can't be like him. I'm not like him. He gave up without a fight, he took the coward's way out, and I'm not gonna do that." Tara didn't realize it, but tears were flowing freely down her cheek.

"Tara, I thought that I would give you enough time to sort things out, but I can't." She looked at him curiously. "Tara, I need you. I thought that everything in my life was perfect before you entered it. I need you, you complete me."

Tara couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was too good to be true. "Spot, I hurt you so badly, how can you still want me?"

"Because what we had together, Tara was right. It was good. I need that goodness in my life. I love you, Tara. So I'm asking you, will you live with me in my home and in my heart?" And with that, he took out her mother's necklace.

Tara couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. All she could do was nod her head and launch herself into Spots arms.

With her lips pressed into his neck, she whispered her undying love to him.

He regretfully set himself apart from Tara and clasped the cherished necklace around her slender neck. Tara knew that with the necklace Spot was not only giving her back her past, but promising her the future. It may not always be perfect, but Spot was right, what they made together was right. Not only was the promise of her future in her arms and around her neck, but it was also in her womb. She couldn't wait to tell him.