White Magic

She was glorious.

Breathtaking.

Spike simply stood there in awe, watching as the blonde goddess that his friend, his protector, his love, had become stalked purposefully toward the fallen Slayer, struggling to pull herself up against the wall across the room. Stunned, Spike found it hard to believe that this was the same girl who still fought not to stutter when she spoke at times, and treated him with such gentle compassion and tenderness.

He was intensely grateful for the protective fury that blazed in her eyes as she passed him...and glad that it was not directed at him, and never would be.

"Y-your mind?" Buffy echoed incredulously as she staggered to her feet, bracing a hand against the wall and staring at the blonde witch in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Newsflash, Buffy," Tara smirked, stopping a few steps in front of the Slayer and crossing her arms over her chest. "Things don't always go your way, after all."

"How?" Buffy demanded, her voice trembling with frustrated rage. "How did you do this? There's a spell...a bond. He's *mine*! How can you *do this*?" Her last words were nearly a scream of mad fury.

Tara's calm remained unaffected by the Slayer's outburst, as she shrugged carelessly without uncrossing her arms. "Did a spell. Worked a little better than yours, apparently. I don't really feel like going into the details. Right now...I pretty much just feel like enjoying it."

Without hesitation, Tara simply flicked a hand in Buffy's direction, not even saying a word - and Buffy doubled over in pain, letting out a startled cry as her hand clutched her stomach and she nearly collapsed to the floor again. Tara took advantage of her position to take another slow, pointed step toward Buffy, her eyes narrowing and the amusement leaving her expression.

Tara waited until Buffy's pain had eased enough to allow her to look up at her again in disbelief, before stating in a voice of cold command, "You will *not* touch Spike again, Buffy. No matter what I have to do to you, I *will* protect him from you."

"What, you're gonna just stay with him every second?" Buffy sneered, gasping for breath as she straightened, still bracing her weight against the wall. Her cruel eyes locked onto Spike, beyond Tara, as she added viciously, "*That* could get old fast." She smiled as Spike flinched at her words, adding in a biting tone, "Pathetic, whining little coward clinging to your skirt like a helpless child...I know it drove *me* nuts. Have fun with that."

With their minds connected by the spell she had performed with Willow and Wesley's help, Tara was acutely aware of Spike's emotional pain at Buffy's words, calculated perfectly to penetrate his fragile defenses, striking at the most vulnerable of his insecurities. She felt his heartbreak and despair, as Buffy's words only served to confirm the secret fears he held, that Tara would eventually tire of the broken, damaged creature he had become.

It made her furious...but not with him.

Uttering a low Latin word, Tara stretched a hand toward Buffy, blasting her with a painful jolt of magical energy, sending her slamming back against the wall before crumpling to the floor in a shaking, gasping heap. As the Slayer struggled on trembling limbs just to pull herself to her hands and knees on the floor, Tara crouched before her, her eyes narrowed in anger and determination as she glared at her.

"Shut. Up."

Buffy let out a high, manic giggle as she regained her breath. "Strike a little...too close to home?" she gasped out with a sort of desperate triumph in her voice. Directing her words over Tara's shoulder at Spike, she taunted, "The truth hurts, doesn't it, Baby?"

"Shut up...or I'll shut you up," Tara reiterated in a carefully calm voice. "And I *really* don't think you'll like my methods." She paused, smiling grimly as she explained with another shrug, "My dream...means no limits on what I can do. And I have a *very* vivid imagination, Buffy; so this is one place you might wanna think about not messing with me."

"See, I'm not messing with you," Buffy countered defiantly, glaring up at her before returning her sadistic smile to the vampire standing across the room. "I'm messing with *him*...and it's working out pretty well for me; don't know why I'd want to stop now..."

Tara followed her gaze, glancing over her shoulder at Spike, who was looking incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable, his arms crossed tightly across his torso, his eyes fastened on the floor as he fought to maintain control over his emotions, swallowing hard against the sobs that rose in his throat, blinking tears from his downcast eyes.

"Enough," Tara snapped, turning back to face Buffy. "Can't say I didn't warn you..."

"Warn me about what?" Buffy sneered, a challenge in her voice. It was clear that she thought Tara incapable of backing up her threats."What are you gonna...?"

Her words were cut off abruptly as Tara once again used the tremendous magical power she possessed only in her dreams, this time to flatten her back against the wall behind her, her wrists pinned against it by swirling, shimmering bonds that seemed to be composed of nothing more than magic itself. The same ethereal material encircled the Slayer's mouth, silencing her defiant words of protest as she struggled uselessly to free herself.

Tara smiled with satisfaction, leaning back slightly to survey her work. Without taking her triumphant gaze from Buffy's bewildered eyes, she spoke softly, directing her words to Spike rather than to the incapacitated Slayer as she beckoned him to her with one hand.

"Come here, Sweetheart."

Behind her, Spike looked up sharply, startled, but did not move. He glanced nervously toward Buffy before looking back at Tara again, an uncertain question in his eyes.

Tara turned toward him, searching his expression with concern. "Come on," she urged him gently. "It's okay. Come over here to me, Spike." When he still did not move, simply gazing at her with wide, fearful eyes, she added, "It's just a dream...and it's *my* dream...and she can't touch you, Spike. Come on, Honey."

Hesitantly, never taking his eyes from hers, Spike crossed the room on trembling legs, until he was close enough for Tara to take him into her arms. He gratefully allowed himself to collapse against her as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tremors of delayed fear and trauma shook his body.

"It's all right," she reassured him. "It's okay, Sweetheart. She has no power here."

Spike nodded silently against her shoulder, apparently accepting her words - until she tried to gently push him back to look at him. He resisted the gesture, clinging to her, refusing to leave the shelter of her arms and face the unsettling nearness of his abuser, even if she *was* bound and helpless at the moment.

"No," he whispered a pleading protest as she tried again to push him back. "Don't...don't make me..."

Tara considered simply ignoring the sadistic little giggle that was still audible from Buffy's mouth, however muffled by the magical gag she wore. She knew that she had to focus on Spike right now; in the end, however, she decided that there was no reason why she shouldn't indulge her impulse to deliver another punishing jolt to the Slayer. Tara could not suppress a slight smile as Buffy jerked against her bonds, as her calloused laughter was cut off in a muffled moan of pain.

"Spike," Tara reasoned with him quietly, raising a hand to the vampire's cheek and gently tilting his head back to meet his eyes. "Spike...she can't hurt you. She *can't*. You're safe..."

"Sh-she's watching," Spike whispered back, lowering his gaze, his eyes wide and shocked. He was clearly sick with fear, stumbling over his explanation. "She'll...she'll be so...she won't like..."

"It doesn't matter what she likes," Tara cut him off, a sharp edge to her voice, though her eyes were still full of sympathy and compassion, and her warm hand gently stroked his cheek in a soothing gesture. "Not anymore. She can't hurt you. If she doesn't like it, she can get over it, because she doesn't have the right to decide what you do, Spike. She has no more control over you."

Spike visibly struggled with the concept, torn between the hope Tara was offering him, and the instinctive terror that rose up within him at the very thought that Buffy was standing right there, observing his closeness with the blonde witch...and no doubt filling with jealous fury at the fact that he was allowing Tara to touch him, when he belonged to *her*.

"I c-can't," he stammered, fighting back panic, suddenly pulling back away from Tara. "I can't do this..."

"Spike," Tara said firmly, gripping his arms and refusing to allow him to leave her embrace. "Spike, stop...stop for a second, okay?"

He nodded, freezing in place, though his every muscle was taut and tense, poised for flight at a moment's notice. He was trembling uncontrollably, his eyes focused somewhere around Tara's shoulders, cautiously avoiding even accidental eye contact with his former abuser.

"All right," he whispered, his tone distant and distracted. "Okay..."

"Okay," Tara murmured, her hand at his cheek slipping upward to run soothingly through his hair. "You can do whatever you want, Spike. You don't have to worry about her. This is *my* territory, not hers. She can't touch you here. And even when we wake up, Sweetie...she can't touch you in the hotel. You are *perfectly safe*. Okay?"

Spike nodded hesitantly, though he did appear to be calming somewhat. He even ventured a brief glance in Buffy's direction, though he quickly looked away when faced with the venom in her furious gaze, drawing in an alarmed, shuddering breath.

"Shhh," Tara soothed him immediately, running a hand up and down his back in a reassuring gesture. "I know what she's doing, Sweethart...but that's *all* she can do, you know that? Threatening looks and mumbled sounds...she can't even talk right now." Her voice lowered as she caught his gaze, smiling secretively as she added, "*She's* the one who's helpless now, Spike. Not you. *Her*."

Spike's eyes widened slightly as he slowly processed that concept, glancing again toward Buffy, lowering his gaze when she tried to catch it, but not looking away completely, his eyes drifting toward the magical bonds at her wrists that held her to the wall.

"Doesn't look so scary right now, does she?" Tara remarked, raising her voice enough to allow Buffy to hear her words as well, meeting the Slayer's eyes with a smirk as she did. "Squirming and mumbling and getting absolutely nowhere. Doesn't really look capable of hurting anyone at the moment...does she?"

Spike shook his head slowly, his eyes fastened on the Slayer's bound form, as he swallowed hard. "No," he whispered, his voice hoarse and hollow, but sounding far less panicked now. "She doesn't."

"If you asked anybody looking into this dream right now, who has the power," Tara continued in a calm, gently leading voice, turning so that they were side by side, facing Buffy, her arm wrapped around his waist in a supportive gesture. "You or her...what do you think they would say?"

Spike hesitated, his eyes downcast, his lips parted to reply, but seemingly unable to even fathom the idea of giving the obvious answer. The idea of his actually having power over Buffy was so foreign to him, he could scarcely imagine it, let alone speak it aloud, and especially in her very presence. Months of torture had left him with the subconscious certainty that such an offense could only lead to the worst of suffering and punishment.

"Spike?" Tara pressed softly.

"I...I don't...don't know..."

"Yes, you do. *You* have the power," Tara answered the question for him, her arm squeezing slightly around his waist. "You, Spike. You have the power here. She can't hurt you...but you can hurt her. There's no sanctuary spell to protect her...and I won't let her touch you."

Buffy let out a muffled, strangled cry of outrage at Tara's words, but was powerless to express herself as she wished - a fact which only served to reinforce Tara's assessment of the situation. The blonde witch felt the vampire at her side quake slightly in response to Buffy's anger, but noted with hope that his reaction was not anywhere near as extreme as it had been before.

"This may be a dream, Spike," Tara continued. "But it certainly feels real...doesn't it?"

He nodded silently, his eyes momentarily focused on the floor before bravely focusing on Buffy's face, hesitating, but not looking away this time, even when faced with her best attempt at a menacing glare, made far less intimidating by her helpless state.

"She doesn't have control of it. I do. So she can't do anything to you. And when we wake up, you'll be safe then, too." Tara paused, before concluding earnestly, "You can do *anything* in here, Spike. Say anything, without fear of any consequences. There is nothing she can do to punish you for anything you might choose to do here."

Spike turned toward her, startled as he realized what she was getting at. His gaze drifted wonderingly between Tara's and Buffy's faces, before finally meeting Tara's gaze again with a question in his uncertain eyes...and a dawning light of awestruck hope.

Tara nodded, giving him an encouraging smile.

"This is your chance, Spike," she affirmed softly. "Your chance to do and say all the things you've wanted to do and say over the past few months. She's at *your* mercy here. And this is your chance to make her pay."