A/N: Hey there. This is first in a series of one-shots I have planned centered around True Blood's best ship - Pam/Tara. I do hope you enjoy this and if you have the time to comment on your thoughts :-)

-blumoone

Powerlessness

Panic in its most potent form flooded the bond that Pamela Swynford de Beaufort and her progeny shared. It was like a sudden jolt of electricity to her cold dead heart, wrenching her from the grips of sleep as if she had been doused with ice water. Her cerulean blue eyes popped open and a choked gasp escaped her lips as her smooth alabaster hands fluttered to the base of her throat in an attempt to find some kind of foundation against the siege the tumult of emotions wrought.

Tara. Something was wrong with her Child. Bursting from the confines of her pink coffin, the blonde vampire's gaze locked on the mahogany wood resting place wherein lay her progeny. Throwing the lid open, she revealed Tara in the throes of a nightmare. Blood tears were drying on her ebony cheeks, a crease between her thick dark brows marred her otherwise perfect features, and her hands were balled so tightly into fists it was a wonder that her fingers hadn't broken from the strain.

Pam's heart clenched painfully at the sight of her beloved under such emotional turmoil, silently cursing the bond for making it possible to feel all that Tara was feeling but not able to see what was going on in the younger vampire's mind's eye…

She was running. Running so hard and so fast that her chest felt as if it were on fire and the muscles in her legs ached to unravel right off the bones. But she couldn't stop. The footsteps behind her were getting closer, the heavy, ragged breathing getting louder. And yet she kept running.

"Git ya ass back here ya stupid girl!" Lettie Mae shrieked, her harsh, alcohol slurred words ringing into the night, "Ya wanna see us throwed in the street? Git back here right now!"

"No! Leave me the hell alone!" Tara hollered, yet she could feel her chest tightening, could feel the muscles in her legs giving out. And those heavy footfalls behind her were getting closer. She let out a chocked sob as her ankle twisted beneath her, the momentum sending her tumbling to the grassy soil.

"Y'ain't no lil' girl no more," a rumbling bass growled behind her, "Time to woman up!"

"Mama, please," she begged piteously, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks as she scrambled backward and away from the approaching threat, towering over her, "Please, don't do this! Please!"

Tara came back to the present with a sharp gasp, vamp speeding out of her coffin as if the thing has been set on fire and right into the waiting arms of her Maker, arms that instantly tightened around her, engulfing her into an embrace that was both strong and steady. She buried her face in the crook between Pam's neck and shoulder and sobbed openly; seeking comfort in the soothing way Pam rocked her from side to side. When the tears slowed, she pulled back, her red rimmed eyes falling to study the concrete floor.

"Nightmare?" Pam murmured, thumbing away the remnants of her Progeny's anguish.

"Naw," Tara rasped with a sniffle, "A memory. Somethin' I thought I could forget," she chuckled but there was no humor in the sound, "As if I ever could."

Taking Tara by the hand, Pam led her to the stairs that led up from Fangtasia's basement to the main level. She took a seat on the middle most stair and gently tugged her Progeny down beside her. The two sat in silence for a spell, their hands remaining entwined, as the blonde traced lazy circles over smooth ebony skin.

Several heartbeats later, Pam turned to face her Child. "Tell me." There was no conviction in the statement nor was it posed as a command, yet there was something in her Maker's tone that made Tara want to open up when she would have usually shut down. Not even Sookie knew in depth all that had constantly plagued her slumber for the past fifteen years. But Pam was different. In such a short time, she had gone from foe to friend. Something had changed irrevocably between them and though Tara couldn't exactly pinpoint the when, she was grateful that it had. Pam was more of a mother to her than anyone had ever been, even Adele Stackhouse.

"Tell me," Pam whispered once more and this time Tara was powerless to stop the words from her lips.

"When I was twelve years old, I was raped."

She waited for the shock and pity that usually befell the listener's face when she divulged anything from her past but it never came. Pam merely blinked, her facial expression schooled into a mask of calm. Tara did note that the blonde's hand tightened over her own. That tiny gesture helped her go on.

"Mama was seein' this man, Mr. Cartwright, for a spell and things were startin' to look up. For us, I mean. She quit drinkin' and really fell into that 'mother' role. She made breakfast in the mornin', hell, she even gave me a lil' somethin' for lunch at school. We started goin' to church on Sundays. Things seemed almost normal. But whenever he was around, I could feel him watchin' me," Tara shuddered, her voice getting harsher as her emotions threatened to consume her, "Every corner I turned it just seemed like Mr. Cartwright was there, winkin' at me, watchin' my ass, lickin' his lips, makin' innuendos that at twelve I wasn't catchin'. Mama just seemed…oblivious." She drew in a shaky, unnecessary breath. "One night, after they thought I was sleepin', I heard them arguin', heard him cussin' her. I heard him say he was gonna leave her. Take all the nice things he had given her. Take all the money he'd loaned her. All of this if she didn't give me to him." Tara shook her head as fresh blood tears rolled down her cheeks. "I kept waitin' for her to say no. Kept waitin' for her to kick his ass out. Tell him we could do for ourselves, that we didn't need him. She never did. So the next day came, and she came into my room. She told me she had a surprise for me, to get in the tub and put on my nicest outfit. I ran out the house like a bat outta hell. And that's when he chased me. Chased me out the yard into the woods behind the house. Wasn't long before he caught me. Ripped off my nightgown and…and, yeah."

Pam had had a century worth of practice from shielding her end of the bond between Progeny and Maker. There were times in the past when she hadn't wanted Eric to sense her emotions and vice versa. But even with said practice she was having trouble keeping her rage at bay. That bitch Lettie Mae had been in her bar, had spoken to her Tara. Had she known the story at the time, surely those would have been the last steps the elder Ms. Thornton would have tread, the last words she would have uttered. Even know she wanted to fly to Bon Temps and set Lettie Mae's house ablaze and when the woman would have been driven out by the flames, slowly dismember her before draining her dry.

But even the idea of torture and vengeance didn't bring any satisfaction. Not when raw pain was bubbling in her chest from Tara's end of the bond. She took her Progeny's face in her hands, gently turning Tara to face her. "Listen to me. Nothing and no one can hurt you like that again. You are mine now and I will ever protect what is mine." For the second time that night, she brushed away Tara's tears and offered her a small smile, which after several heartbeats was returned. "I promise you."

Tara all but collapsed against Pam's chest, wrapping her arms around her so tightly that had she been human, several of her ribs would have cracked. Pam relished in the gesture, hugging her Child back. It had taken awhile but for the first time in over century she felt as if there was no place she would rather be but locked in Tara's embrace. She could hold her like this for all eternity and she knew that the younger vampire felt the same. The bond didn't lie.