White Magic

Spike stood there for a long moment, staring blankly at the bound Slayer, who was currently giving him her most menacing glare...which was decidedly less menacing with a magical gag in her mouth.

Tara's words, profoundly powerful to one so thoroughly broken and degraded as he had been, echoed in his mind again and again.

*You can do anything...say anything...to her, and there's *nothing* she can do to you! *You* have the power now!*

Spike was intensely grateful for the feeling of Tara's soft, warm arm around his waist, offering him comfort that he craved, reminding him silently that he was not alone, and no longer at the mercy of the Slayer he was facing. Still, the thought of what she was suggesting was enough to send him to the edge of a panic attack.

His body began to tremble as he imagined all the things he would have loved to say to her, to do to her...and the terrible punishments the Slayer would unleash upon him in repayment for it. He shook his head in denial, moving as if to back up, but Tara slipped around so that she stood slightly behind him, both her arms wrapping gently around him as she leaned in to speak softly next to his ear.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay, Spike...calm down, Sweetheart..."

"I can't," he replied in a low, shaking voice, his eyes closed as he reached up to clutch at her arms around him, pulling her closer in a desperate need for the security her embrace provided. "Tara, I can't...I can't..."

"Yes, you can," she assured him firmly. "She can't touch you, Spike. This is your opportunity to get back what she took from you, Sweetheart."

Spike was silent, not arguing the point, but clearly not fully accepting of it, either.

"Remember," Tara insisted, lowering her voice so that only Spike could hear her as she spoke directly into his ear, her arms tightening supportively around him, "it's just a dream, Spike...and it's a dream in *my* head...so no matter what you say, what you do...she can't get loose. She can't hurt you. Okay?"

Spike hesitated, but at last it seemed that her words were getting through to him. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding. "Okay."

After a moment, his hands on her arms became steadier, and he gently, decisively, pushed them down. Sensitive to his need for space as much as she had been to his need for reassurance, Tara immediately released him, taking a step backward, though not moving too far away, in case he should still need her.

Spike just stood there for a long moment, his wide blue eyes fastened on Buffy, meeting her threatening gaze bravely, despite her best attempts at intimidation. Then, hesitantly, he took a step closer to her, further from Tara. After a slight pause, he took another step, and then another, each one becoming more sure than the last, until he was standing a couple of feet in front of her, yet still far enough to be out of her reach should she manage to break her bonds and attempt to get to him.

He slowly looked her over, taking in her strong but helpless body, taut muscles flexing as she struggled against her bonds, and he remembered the agony that terrible strength had inflicted upon him. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists as she fought uselessly, and Spike shuddered inwardly to remember how brutally and systematically those fists had broken him.

Hardest of all to face, however, was the sharp menace in her narrowed emerald eyes as she glared at him, her lips around the gag turned upward in the best imitation of a sneer she could manage. Spike remembered the cruel words her mouth could form, the vicious pleasure in her eyes when she had devised and executed a particularly hurtful emotional torment.

He met those cold, spiteful eyes for an instant longer, before three words slipped from his lips, without any conscious plan to speak them on his part.

"I hate you."

He blinked in surprise the moment he said it, as if only just discovering the depth of his emotions toward his abuser...the woman he had loved for years, in spite of the cruelty she had shown him. Buffy appeared equally surprised, her eyes widening as she pulled her head back slightly as if to look at him more closely.

"I didn't...didn't always," Spike went on, his voice trembling slightly, but determined now that he had begun to finish it...because if he didn't say these things now, he knew that he might never say them. "I...loved you...once. But...but you bloody well destroyed that." He paused, his voice low and anguished as he added, "Destroyed *me*."

He flinched slightly at the unmistakable laughter in the Slayer's cold eyes, well aware that she was, as always, taking pleasure in his discomfort, in the damage she had caused him. He felt his face flush with shame, and swallowed back a hard knot in his throat. A familiar, frustrated anger rose up within him, at his own helplessness in the face of her derision, her cruelty.

Except...he *wasn't* helpless. Not here...not now.

He was intensely aware of Tara's silent support behind him, and suddenly, he *knew* that he was safe here. There was no way that Buffy could touch him, no matter how badly she might want to - and once the dream was over, and he awakened, the sanctuary spell would hold her menace at bay.

*She* was the helpless one this time.

With a strength and fire he had thought lost to him forever, Spike drew back his fist and struck her across the face, before he could give any thought to the action, or mentally talk himself out of it. Buffy's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and the blond vampire's eyes went wide with surprise at his own nerve.

Buffy's head slowly turned back to face him, her eyes narrowed and glaring with rage. Spike felt a shudder run down his spine at the sheer hatred and vindictive anger he saw in her livid gaze.

An instant later, a thought not his own hissed through his mind with menace.

*You really shouldn't have done that, Baby. I'm gonna make you regret that...*

Spike jumped slightly, startled by the intrusive voice of the Slayer in his mind; but an instant later, he felt Tara's supportive hand on his shoulder as she moved in close again, extending her other hand toward the Slayer and murmuring a soft Latin word.

"I'm sorry," Tara whispered, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder, and Spike raised a grateful hand to cover hers, never taking his eyes off the increasingly infuriated Slayer. "I didn't think about that - her being able to talk in your head. I've stopped her."

Spike turned to look at her at those words, a surprised question on his face.

"Yes, I can do that," Tara answered with a smile. "My mind, remember? Therefore, ultimate power. I can keep her from intruding in your thoughts, as long as we're in my head. I just - didn't think to. I'm sorry," she repeated.

"'S okay, love," Spike replied with a slight shrug, turning his eyes back on Buffy, a slow, tentative smile beginning to form on his lips. "I...I think I'm starting to get it now..."

With each display of Tara's power, Spike found himself increasingly sure of his safety in this dream realm of her mind. Even Buffy's thoughts were subject to Tara's command here. Feeling more confident than he had in a terribly long time, Spike gently shrugged free of Tara's hand on his shoulder, moving once more toward the bound Slayer.

"You really can't touch me," he stated softly, a sort of wonder in his eyes, now shining with a subtle triumph. "Not with your hands...or your words...or even your bloody thoughts. You can't do a soddin' thing to me, here."

Buffy struggled uselessly against her bonds, trying desperately to pull free, her face a twisted mask of rage at his words. Like Spike, she was beginning to become aware of her own helplessness in the situation - and she simply couldn't stand it. She fought frantically to pull free, though her efforts did not gain her even the slightest ground.

Spike watched her for a long moment, as the smile slowly faded from his face, his mind going back to dozens of different times before when she had felt her power threatened, and had lashed out in rage. He had seen that twisted expression of uncontrollable fury, directed at him, on too many occasions to count.

But this time, it did not carry the same terror with it that it always had in the past.

Spike drew back his fist and struck her again, a grim smile reappearing on his face when she went still, momentarily stunned by the blow, before turning wide, frantic eyes on him again. He could see that the inability to so much as voice her protest was driving Buffy mad with frustration...and it was a beautiful thing to see.

"You won't ever touch me again, Buffy," he told her, his voice low and just barely trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I'm through being your...your toy. Your slave. I loved you, Buffy. I loved you for a long time...but I've learned something, pet." He was quiet for a long moment, swallowing hard in an effort to control his emotions, before continuing in a carefully controlled voice.

"Doesn't matter how hard I tried, how much good I did, how much I tried to prove myself to you...you're never gonna love me." He paused before adding sadly, "Don't think you've got it in you to love at all anymore. And...and I've found someone...someone who *does* love me, Buffy. You...you told me...I'd never find that..."

Spike's voice had lowered as he struggled with deep set insecurities she had placed within him, and finally stated calmly in a soft, certain whisper,

"You're a liar."

Buffy jerked against her restraints, her eyes narrowed in a threatening expression, and Spike knew that she was longing to speak words of vicious degradation and menace...but she couldn't.

And that made all the difference in the world.

"You just said it to...to keep me from trying to fight back. To keep me...under control," Spike continued, his eyes averted now as he thought through what he wanted to say. "But...it wasn't true. Tara loves me. She...she tells me...I didn't deserve...what you did..."

Spike kept his eyes carefully downcast as he spoke, not having to look to know that Buffy's lips were twisted in a knowing sneer around her magical gag, saying clearly without words what she thought of his words. He struggled to hold onto his courage as he continued, his voice low and only slightly hesitant.

"I...I believe her. She's...never lied to me, and you...you lied to me every soddin' day. So...I trust her. I believe her. I know that...that I didn't deserve it. That you're the one with the bloody problem, not me. I just...I just need...to hear it from *you*."

Behind him, Spike heard Tara's sharp, alarmed intake of breath, but he did not turn. He raised his eyes slowly to meet Buffy's, determination in his apprehensive gaze.

"Spike..." Tara's gentle voice behind him was cautious, warning.

"Take it down," Spike requested quietly. "Let her...let her speak. Aloud, not...not in my head. Never want her in my head again."

"Spike...I don't think you want to..."

"*Take it down*."

Tara was silent for a long moment, and Buffy's shrewd eyes moved quickly between the two of them, a cruel light shining there as she waited eagerly for Tara to do as Spike had requested. Spike studiously avoided her gaze, taking a step nearer to her as Tara let out a heavy, defeated sigh.

If he was determined to do it this way, she would not stand in his way.

A whispered word broke the spell binding Buffy's mouth, and the Slayer raised her head with a sneer, her lips already parted to spout the venom she had become so good at inflicting on the vampire who had been her victim for so long.

Before she could speak, Spike struck her again, backhanding her across the face, hard enough to momentarily take her breath.

"No more lies," he stated, his voice slightly unsteady as he stared impassively down at her. "You're going to tell the truth, Buffy. You're going to admit to the lies you told me..."

"Spike," Tara tried again, sounding sick with worry.

Spike ignored her, focusing his attention on Buffy. "You knew those things you said...about the others not caring if I...about what you were doing...you knew it wasn't true all along...didn't you?"

Buffy looked up, poised to respond, and the wicked gleam in her eyes told him before she could utter a word that she was not about to say anything he wanted to hear. Spike hit her across the face again, following up the blow with a sharp punch to her midsection, causing her body to attempt to double over in pain, though the restraints at her wrists prevented her from doing so.

"You called me...a whore...a slut...said I'd asked for it. Wanted it. Deserved it." Spike's voice wavered increasingly as he went on, and he blinked away tears that momentarily blinded him, sending them sliding down his face as he delivered another breathtaking blow across her face, snapping her head to the side.

"Take it back."

Buffy's response was a high-pitched giggle which carried with it the gleeful, frantic note of insanity. She looked up at him, ruthless mirth in her eyes, opening her mouth again to speak words that he knew would be designed to hurt and break him...but there were tears streaming down her face as well, now.

Still, he knew enough to cut her off with another blow.

"You said I made you do it," Spike reminded her, the words nearly a sob, swiping roughly with the back of his hand at the tears that persisted in flowing down his face. "You said it was...my fault. But...but it wasn't...it *wasn't*..."

He punctuated the words with another fist to the side of her head, words and blows coming faster as the vampire began to allow his emotions to get the better of him, despite his best intentions not to let that happen.

"Y-you said...said I was...was worthless..."

*Punch*

"...stupid..."

*Slap*

"...dirty..."

*Punch*

"...d-disgusting little whore..."

*Punch*

"...g-got off on the pain...except...except..."

Spike delivered a backhand blow with enough force to cause him to stagger, stumbling slightly to regain his footing and struggling to regain the breath to finish his statement. His tears were flowing freely now, blinding him, and his insides were quaking, shuddering and sick. He wiped away the tears, raising anguished eyes to search her face, as he choked out the last words in a hoarse sob.

"...except...it was *you* bloody getting off on it! You...you did it because you *wanted* to! I d-didn't deserve it...didn't do anything to...to make you...it wasn't my fault!"

He fell silent for a moment, wrenching sobs shaking his body, his arms doubled over across his chest as he bowed his head, struggling to regain his composure, and failing miserably. He raised his eyes to Buffy again, to see that she was staring at him through wide, stunned eyes, her face streaked with her own mingled blood and tears.

"Spike...Sweetheart..." Tara's voice was thick with heartache for him, as she tried again to pull him back from the brink of what could only be disastrous.

But Spike's attention was focused solely on Buffy.

Miraculously, the mirth seemed to have vanished from her face, and her eyes had become serious and intent, watching his emotional outburst with what could almost have passed for genuine concern. Spike stared at her for a long moment, his eyes bleak and despairing, before he finally reiterated his need in a hoarse, desperate whisper.

"Say it. Tell the truth. Tell me...tell me *why*..."

Buffy was completely silent for a long moment, staring at him through solemn eyes, her breath harsh and labored and impossibly loud in the sudden stillness of the room. Finally, she lowered her head, her shoulders shaking with what might have been laughter...or silent sobs. Spike simply waited, unmoved by her emotion, yet allowing himself to hope that it might, *might* mean that she was willing to give him the answers he needed.

Finally, she looked slowly up at him...and in the instant before she spoke in a low, dark voice, Spike saw the malice in her eyes, and his heart sank with disappointment.

"The truth?" she rasped out. "The truth...is that you're a worthless, disgusting *monster*, Spike. And anything I can do to you won't even begin to make up for all the damage you've done over the centuries. *Yes*, I enjoyed it," she sneered, her words slow and calculated, designed for the maximum painful impact. "I enjoyed every scream...every plea for mercy...every moan of pleasure you couldn't hold back, even though it made you disgusted with yourself for liking being *raped*, you disgusting, sick little whore. Yes, I liked it. I enjoyed it. So what? You are *nothing*, Spike, and you have no right to *live*, let alone complain."

Spike flinched at the words, his head lowered in shame. A part of him was not surprised, having expected no better from her, but it hurt just the same. The validation, the release from his own self-doubts and recriminations that he had craved, had been denied him...but had he ever really thought that Buffy would grant it.

No. Not really.

Buffy's voice softened, each word a dagger driving deep into its target, as she continued intently, "You deserved it, Spike. You asked for it. You let me do it to you...because a part of you liked it. It *was* your fault, for being the dirty, twisted little slut you are. And I'm going to get you back, Spike. I'm going to find a way around this spell, and I'm going to get you back with me where you belong. I'll remind you how much you liked it, you little..."

Abruptly her words went silent, and Spike looked up through dull, anguished eyes to see that she was still talking, but no sound was coming out - like a television with the volume turned down. He turned to look at Tara, whose lips were twisted into a grimace of protective rage, as she stalked purposefully toward the Slayer, already drawing back her hand in preparation to strike. A fiery bolt of magical energy slammed into the Slayer, causing her body to convulse with pain for a few seconds, before collapsing against her bonds again, panting and shaking with the remnants of the agony Tara had caused her.

"That's enough," Tara snarled, her eyes narrowed in menace as she took another step closer to Buffy. "You're a liar, just like Spike said, and we don't need to hear your lies. You won't ever get the chance to touch him again. And if you're smart, you'll stay out of his dreams. His mind is linked to mine, and you won't be able to touch him. All that's waiting for you here if you try to come back again is more of what you just got. So if I were you, I'd just stay away."

A second jolt punctuated her words, before Tara turned and went back to Spike, enfolding the trembling vampire in her arms without hesitation. Her hand cradled the back of his head, holding his face gently down against her shoulder as she laid a tender kiss against his temple before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"It's all lies, Sweetheart. You know it's not true, none of it."

Spike nodded automatically, but Tara knew him well enough to know that he wasn't really sure.

And that was an issue best dealt with away from the prying eyes of the Slayer.

"Come on," Tara whispered decisively, raising her hand in preparation to make the magical symbol in the air that would end the spell...for now. "Time to wake up."