White Magic

Tara carefully ignored the curious looks the others cast her way as she followed Spike away from the group and up the stairs. Halfway up the staircase, she heard Angel clear his throat and go on quietly talking, and she felt a sense of warmth and gratitude come over her for the dark vampire, and his tactful effort to keep the others distracted.

She stopped outside the door to the room she and Spike had been sharing, drawing in a deep breath in preparation for the difficult conversation she knew was to come. Steeling herself, she twisted the knob...and found that it would not turn. It was locked.

"Spike?" she called softly. "Spike, it's me. Sweetie...open the door?"

Only silence greeted her request.

"Spike. Please."

There was still no response, and Tara gave up for the moment, though not for good, sitting down on the floor with her back to the door to wait until Spike was ready to let her in. She was surprised a few moments later when she finally heard the quiet click of the lock being turned. She hesitated a moment before opening the door and venturing inside, not looking up until she had closed the door behind her and carefully locked it.

Spike was standing near the window, staring out into the night through haunted eyes. He looked up sharply at the sound of the locking door, staring at it for a moment before meeting her eyes in a quiet question. His face was streaked with the drying tracks of tears, and there was a hopeless expression in his gaze that was heartbreaking to the woman who loved him more than her own life.

Tara said nothing as she slowly moved toward him, just as far as the bed, where she sat down on the side facing him and patted the space beside her encouragingly.

"Come here."

Spike stared blankly at her tapping hand for a moment before obeying, though the action seemed to be motivated by nothing more than the habit of obedience he had learned from his torment at Buffy's hands. His shoulders remained stiff and his body unresponsive as Tara wrapped a gentle arm around him, giving him a speculative sideways look.

"Okay. So what's this about?"

Spike did not answer right away, just sat there tense and silent and giving her every impression that he did not want her to even touch him at the moment, and did not intend to respond. Just when Tara was about to back off and pull her arm back away from him, Spike finally spoke in a hoarse, despairing whisper.

"I can't do this, Tara."

"Of course you can, Sweetheart," Tara assured him, gently squeezing his shoulders. "It's not gonna be easy...but you can do this."

Spike shook his head in denial, his eyes lowered, but his shoulders sagged as he gave in, leaning into her embrace with his head turned into her shoulder. "I can't. Not if it means...not if it means facing her, again...without the bleedin' sanctuary spell in place." He laughed, a soft, bitter sound, as he added, "Bloody hell, love, can barely face her now, knowin' she can't touch me. How am I supposed to...?" He raised his head and shook it again with a despairing sigh.

"Spike...it's going to be all right. We have a plan. A *good* plan. And..."

"A soddin' dangerous plan is what it is," Spike countered dubiously, his hand reaching up to nervously clasp hers in her lap, and Tara felt it trembling with the fear he was struggling to suppress. "Leaves her free to do whatever she wants for however long it takes Watcher Boy to finish the spell. And that's *if* she doesn't notice he's doin' it and kill him before he can finish it."

"That's not going to happen." Tara's voice was firm...and carried just a touch of impatience. "Spike, you have to think positively about this. It's going to work out fine, Sweetie. And it's going to be *over*, okay? It's going to be worth it, because it's finally going to be over."

Spike was quiet for a moment, considering her words with a cautiously hopeful expression in his eyes...which gradually faded away. "No," he said in a voice of soft resignation. "It's not. It'll never be...never be *over*, Tara. Not after...it'll never be over."

Tara hesitated, thinking about his words, and about the words Lorne had spoken to her the day before. And then, after a long moment's painful consideration, she made a very difficult decision, and gently withdrew her hand from Spike's as she spoke in a voice that was compassionate but unyielding.

"No. Not until you let it be."

Spike stared first at his newly empty hand, then up at her solemn, stern face. His voice was hushed, trembling and vulnerable as he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tara's heart pounded, her stomach fluttering with a sick, anxious feeling that she was doing the wrong thing, but she determined to continue down the course of action she had begun. She looked down at the bed between them for a moment as she turned sideways to more fully face Spike.

"Just...just that you have to learn to be strong again, Spike. Sooner or later, if you ever want to get past this, you're going to *have* to face her. You're going to have to face her like you've faced a thousand other enemies over the last two centuries."

Spike stared at her, and Tara winced inwardly at the rising emotion that was suspiciously like betrayal in his eyes. "I...I can't," he insisted, desperation in his shaking voice. "I'm not...not even the same person I was for those two centuries, love! I don't have...what I had then. She...she t-took it from me, and..."

"...and you have to take it back."

Spike blinked back tears, shaking his head in bewilderment. "*How*?"

"By standing up to her. On your own."

The blond vampire's eyes went wide with terror at the very thought, as he reached out his hand to grasp hers again in a desperate, pleading gesture. "No," he whispered. "No, I...if I even try, love...she'll...she'll..."

"She won't be able to hurt you if you don't let her, Spike," Tara stated, rising smoothly to her feet and taking Spike's hand in both of hers, only long enough to give it an affectionate squeeze, and firmly return it to his own lap. "I love you. And I want to help you, Spike. But...but I'm afraid that by helping too much, I'm...I'm not really helping you at all. If you don't stand up to her...*soon*...you never will. And no matter what happens to Buffy tomorrow, you'll spend the rest of your life in fear."

Spike watched her through fearful, disbelieving eyes as she started back toward the door. "Are you... Tara, are you *leaving me*?"

Tara stopped, turning back to face him with a sympathetic shake of her head. "No, Spike," she assured him. "I'm giving you the room you need to stand on your own...but I'm not leaving you. I'll never leave you."

Spike blinked in astonishment as she turned again and walked out the bedroom door, closing it softly behind her. She walked only as far as the next door down the hall, the room where Dawn had been sleeping, which was currently empty. Once that door was closed, Tara lay down across the bed and allowed her tears to flow.

However, she had only been there for a few brief moments when the door she had just closed slammed open with enough violence to make her jump, sitting up and whirling around to face the unexpected intruder.

It was Spike.

He stood there in the doorway, glaring at her through tear-filled blue eyes that glittered with anger and hurt.

"Not leaving me, eh?" he echoed her words skeptically. "'Cause it bloody well looks like you are!"

"Spike," Tara insisted gently, rising to her feet. "I'm not. I'm doing this for you..."

"No, you're *doing* this because you're *sick* of me!" he cut her off as he walked into the room, forcefully closing the door behind him. His voice trembled dangerously as his tears streamed down his face. "Because you're ready to be soddin' rid of the useless baggage you've been cartin' around for the past two weeks! Knew you would be, sooner or later - knew you'd tire of the Florence Nightingale routine an' throw me out in the end!"

Tara flinched in hurt at his words, but she reminded herself that they were spoken out of his own hurt and fear. "Spike, you know that's not true..."

"Of course it is!" he snapped, moving in closer to her, his eyes narrowed in fury as his tears continued to fall. "I know I'm a soddin' pathetic wreck, Tara! I know I'm not worth your time, all right? Knew it all along. But you...you told me...you *promised* me... you w-wouldn't leave me. And if you...if you couldn't...k-keep that promise..." Spike's voice became halting as his emotions began to overcome him, and he struggled to get the rest out past the sobs that choked him. "...if you knew you were gonna get tired of me and cast me aside again...then you sh-should have...should have just left me in that bloody basement."

"Don't say that," Tara whispered, her heart stilling momentarily with his words, her eyes widening in horror. "Spike, don't say that. I could *never* have just...you have no idea..."

"No, *you* have no idea!" Spike cried out in a voice full of such anguish that it brought her objections to an abrupt halt. "You have no soddin' idea what it was like! What she *did* to me, Tara! The things she did...the things she...m-made me..."

Tara's heart smote her with guilt, and her eyes welled with fresh tears as she moved toward him, longing for nothing more than to reach out to him. "Spike," she whispered. "I know...I know..."

Her voice broke off when she reached him, reaching out a soft hand to touch his arm...and he jerked abruptly away from her touch as from a blow, his eyes averted, focused on the floor between them.

"No," he choked out the word in a whisper through his tears. "You don't *know*, Tara. You don't *know*." He was silent for a moment, his pain swelling between them like a living thing, filling the room and overwhelming them both as he added in an aching, broken voice, "You *don't* know...what it is that you're asking me to...to just *get over* -- what it is that you're expectin' me to...to deal with alone..."

Tara blinked, and the tears that filled her eyes fell in heavy drops, staining her blouse and the floor at her feet. "Spike..." she began, remorse weighting her tone.

"Nothing. Disgusting monster. Useless, worthless whore, only good for one thing, and that's her pleasure." Spike looked up at her through dull, desolate eyes, taking in her stricken expression with blank indifference. "That's what she told me I am, Tara. That's what she *showed* me I am. And I...I c-can't forget it. No matter how hard I try to...to b-block it out...to believe that it's n-not true...it still is. It *is* true..."

"No, it's not..."

"I'm nothing but what she says I am, Tara," Spike persisted, ignoring her whispered objection, pausing to meet her eyes once more as he concluded in a hushed, still sort of voice that echoed in the otherwise silent room. "Until...until you tell me different."

Tara felt her entire being freeze, overwhelmed by the weight of what he was telling her, what he was putting on her. She shook her head slightly in denial as he went on, his quiet voice desperate and pleading.

"I could be s-strong, Tara...if you're there to...to remind me. But...if...if you're not with me, Tara...then...then all I am is...is what she made me. I...I need you. To...to help me remember..."

In that moment, Tara was fully convinced that Lorne was wrong. Spike needed her, at his side, holding him, guiding him, through this. He was convinced that he could not succeed against Buffy without her, and if only for that reason...he was right. How could she possibly abandon him, now when he needed her most?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, edging nearer to him again. "Spike, I'm sorry...I was just...just trying to..."

Spike backed away as she moved forward, and her voice trailed off in dismay. "Don't," he whispered, shaking his head, his expression crumpled with shame and despair. "Tara...you don't have to. I know that you don't...don't want to..."

"That's not true..."

"It's too much...too much to ask," Spike cut her off, though he could not even bring himself to look her in the eyes, his head bowed under the weight of his heartache and humiliation. "Too much to expect that you could...could give me that much. You're right. Gotta...gotta learn to stand alone. ‘S just...just I'm not sure I...but...but it's too much to ask of a person, love. I get that."

Spike nodded in a sad, resolute way, and Tara's heart broke for his attempt at bravery in the face of his desperate need.

"No, Spike, it's not..." Tara insisted as she reached out to touch him again.

Spike flinched back away from her, protesting, "*Don't*! Tara, d-don't...please. Just...just..."

"Just what, Spike?" Tara pressed him gently, trying to catch his gaze, her voice tinged with desperation as she struggled to find the way to put right what she had unintentionally broken. "I'm so sorry. I was trying to help you, I swear it, Spike. But...but I'll do whatever you need me to do, okay? What do you need me to do?"

Spike finally looked up at her, longing and determination mingled in his eyes. "I need you to...to..." He swallowed hard, his gaze faltering as he struggled over words that contradicted his previous impassioned plea, "...I need you to leave me alone."

Tara frowned in concern, shaking her head. "Spike...no..."

"*Please*."

The soft plea arrested her attention, and Tara stopped talking, swallowing back a sob that stuck in her throat and choked her, as Spike clarified his request.

"I need...need to deal with this, Tara. Need to...to learn to not...not lean so much on you. On anyone. So please, just...just..."

Tara waited silently for him to finish, already expecting the words...yet still stunned and stung by them when they came.

"...just stay away."

Without looking her in the eye, without waiting for a response, Spike turned and walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him.