Chapter Twenty-Five

Vindication

He didn't know how much longer he could take the vicious torture he was being subjected to. From the moment he had declared to her that Tara loved him, Buffy had become more and more possessive and enraged. It was as if the power-mad beast inside her saw the strength he drew from Tara's love and sought to tear it away from him.

She had him shoved up against the wall, his chained wrists under him digging painfully into his back, as she knelt so close that she was practically straddling him. He tried to block out the terror and pain she was causing him, tried to focus on Tara, turning his head away, closing his eyes, whispering her name.

At the sound Buffy slapped him across the face, hard, deliberately clawing him with her fingernails as she did. "She can't help you!" she sneered. "She won't help you. You can try as hard as you like to make yourself believe that she's coming for you, that she still wants you. But the truth is, Baby…you're not worth it. Look around you, Baby." Furious when he refused to obey her, keeping his eyes downcast, closed against her assault, she tangled her hand in his disheveled blonde curls, jerking his head up as she snarled, "Look around! Look where you are! You are mine! No one is coming for you! You're mine and you always will be!"

He shook his head in defiance of her words, too battered and beaten down to do anything more, but then moaned in pain as she vindictively raked her sharp fingernails across the searing holy water burns on his chest. "Aren't you?" she whispered, close to his ear, demanding an answer with her brutal fingers, digging into his burned flesh.

Shaking with agony, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He was determined not to give her the satisfaction. When he finally was able to speak without screaming, he whispered through gritted teeth, "Never. Not anymore."

The words were punished by her vicious nails again, across the tender, scarred skin of his stomach. She laughed coldly. "Sure looks like you're mine," she whispered, holding the back of his head with one hand as she leaned in close to whisper in his ear again, the other hand still brutalizing his injured body. "Feels like you're mine," she went on with a smile of cruel triumph, as she edged her hand lower, laughing when he shuddered at her touch.

With the shift in her manner to that sadistically suggestive tone and touch, his demeanor instantly changed, as he let out a silent sob, then whispered, "God, no, Buffy! Please! Please don't!"

She had known exactly the sort of threat that would finally break him, and now she used it with ruthless pleasure. Still edging her hand lower, she said softly in his ear, "Whose are you, Baby? Hers? Or mine?"

He was trembling uncontrollably, overwhelmed with the terror of the impossible choice she was giving him. She was going to continue what she was doing, until he said what she wanted him to -- so he was to be unfaithful to Tara with his words, or suffer the brutal consequences in his body. He shook his head, silently pleading with her not to make him do this. Although it would not be his choice, it would still feel like such a betrayal of Tara's love.

"Hers or mine?" Buffy pressed, her expression hardening, as did her touch, low on his stomach, warning of the brutal attack she would unleash upon him if he did not answer her question, and in the way she wanted.

"I'll answer that," a quiet, hard voice spoke from the bottom of the stairs, and they both looked up in shock. "Get away from my boyfriend."

Spike thought he must be dreaming, or dying, because it was not possible that she was here in this place of his nightmares – his hope, his savior, his love.

Then Buffy laughed softly – and terror filled him again.

"Tara, get out!" he cried out desperately. Buffy was impossibly strong by now; she could kill Tara without even trying. "Go, now!"

"Shut up," Buffy snarled, turning on him to deliver a brutal blow across his face with the back of her fist.

And before she could even lower her hand, or even glance at the girl across the room from her, she had been lifted into the air by an invisible force and slammed furiously against the wall on the other side of the room. She slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor, moaning with pain, as Tara made her way calmly to Spike's side, tossing over her shoulder, "I said get. Away. From. My. Boyfriend."

Dazed and in pain from the savage blow he had just taken, Spike did not even see her approach. But when he felt her cool hand touch his face tenderly, and heard her soft voice murmur, "My baby, my darling," as she knelt beside him, he looked up into her lovely face with tears of relief and joy streaming down his own.

"Tara," he whispered brokenly, a wealth of expression in the single word.

She gently pulled him into her arms, careful of his injuries, for just a moment – for that was all they had, for now. Across the room, Buffy was struggling to get up, obviously hurt by the blow she had taken, but infuriated by it as well. Tara touched the chains that bound him with a gentle hand, and they simply fell away, loosing him to return her embrace.

"Soon, my darling," she promised softly as she pulled away from his desperately clutching hands. Standing slowly, she faced Buffy, who was on her feet again, murder in her feral green eyes. "Buffy and I still need to get a few things straight."

Spike stood up, but nearly collapsed again, too weak from the torture to fully support his own weight, as Buffy suddenly rushed Tara, blind fury evident in her every move. Tara easily repelled her with a flick of her wrist that sent her crashing to the floor again, twenty feet away.

As Buffy fought to get back up, Tara slowly advanced on her, a dark anger clear in her pretty features. "It doesn't feel very good, does it?" she asked Buffy, her tone severe. "Being completely overpowered. Knowing you're helpless."

"I'm not helpless!" Buffy snarled, leaping suddenly to her feet, enraged.

"Really," Tara said, and threw her arm out toward the Slayer again.

But Buffy was learning how to adapt to Tara's moves, as she always did to those of whatever enemy she fought, and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the surge of power that flowed from Tara's fingers. The motion brought her nearer to the wall where Spike leaned, just trying to stay out of Tara's way, and instinctively he took a sideways step away from her, alarm in his eyes.

Buffy noticed and laughed out loud, derisively. "Your boyfriend would know more about that, Tara," she sneered, nodding toward Spike.

"Oh, very smart, Buffy!" Tara nodded sarcastically, turning to face her again. "Remind the mightily pissed off witch with incredible magical power of the terrible things you've done to the man she loves; make her want you just a little more dead." And with those words she took aim at Buffy again, this time hitting her target, and knocking Buffy to her knees.

Her breath coming hard and ragged, Buffy dragged herself up yet again. She was exhausted and battered and had not landed a single blow against her very angry opponent yet. She was starting to look a little desperate, glancing around for a chance at escape, as victory for her began to seem increasingly impossible.

She was moving slowly by now, and the next jolt from Tara's hand hit her square in the chest and knocked her backward against the wall – mere inches from Spike. Scrambling to her feet, panic now showing in her eyes, Buffy suddenly took a stake from her pocket. Seeing the danger, Spike tried to move away from her, but he was too badly injured to move quickly enough. She caught him by the arm and yanked him in front of her, holding the stake to his chest. His heart sank, and he cursed his weakness that could cost Tara the battle.

"Back off!" Buffy snarled at Tara, but there was as much fear as menace in her voice.

Tara stopped smiling. "Buffy," she said in a quiet, deadly voice, "Let him go."

The tip of the stake pressed hard against his ravaged chest, and he let out a gasp of pain, as Buffy shot back, "I don't think so!"

He tried to pull away from her, but even injured, Buffy was too strong for him. He could see the look in Tara's eyes, knew that she was gearing up to strike again, and this time was not going to be merely to stop Buffy – Tara meant to end it.

Buffy jerked him closer against her, a thin trickle of blood running down his chest where the stake punctured his skin. "I mean it, Tara," she said coldly. "Back off or I'll kill him."

"You won't last two seconds if you do," Tara retorted, and Spike knew she meant it. Wasn't terribly comforting, though; he would still be dust. "Buffy, for the last time, let him go."

Buffy's grip only tightened and he cringed at the increased pressure on the stake in her hand. Tara's hand came up, and Spike flinched. He trusted Tara, but at this range and with him serving as Buffy's inhuman shield, Buffy could easily dodge the blow.

Tara, Tara, please be careful! he thought.

He had not expected a response, and was stunned to hear her affectionate voice in his head, Always.

He looked up at her wide-eyed, at the exact moment that she released her magic blow. She was smiling.

And the next moment, Buffy jerked him into the path of the jolt, and the impact of the blow hit him full in the chest. That's it, he thought. Death by bloody friendly fire. Magical staking. I'm done.

But then he realized that there was no pain, no dust. Instead he felt an incredible surge of power flowing through his veins. He felt strong; the pain from his countless injuries seemed to fade away. He felt powerful, alert, and alive! He looked at Tara with dawning understanding as he realized what she had done.

Tara met his eyes with an approving, satisfied smile. Your turn, Baby.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Buffy was still laughing at his taking the hit in her place when he effortlessly broke her grip on his arm, at the same time snatching the stake from her hand and crushing it to splinters in his own suddenly astonishingly strong grip.

She stared at him for a moment in shock, not quite registering yet what had happened, and aimed another fist at his face. He easily caught her wrist with one hand while plunging his own fist into her face, releasing her wrist at just the right moment to send her flying backward into her hanging punching bag. Eyes wide with disbelief, she clumsily stumbled back to her feet.

"I said," he reminded her, his voice soft and dangerous as he approached her, "Don't. Touch. Me!" And he delivered another powerful blow that knocked her back down to her knees, stunned by the impact.

Caught off guard by this unexpected display of power from the one she had victimized so brutally for months, Buffy looked more than a little scared as she scrambled back away from him. "Spike – wait!" she gasped. "Wait a second, Baby…"

"And stop bloody calling me that!" he yelled at her in a release of rage and frustration. "I'm not your baby! I'm not your bloody anything! Just stop it, Buffy!"

"Ok…ok, Spike," Buffy nodded hurriedly, getting to her feet, her hands outstretched placatingly. "Just – calm down. We can talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about," he hissed in a voice of barely restrained fury, still advancing on her. "I'm through bloody talking, Buffy. Every word you've ever said to me has torn me down, a little at a time. You've destroyed me!" All the pain, the helplessness, the terror of the past few months seemed to wash over him as he stared down at his fallen abuser.

Not destroyed, Tara's soothing voice echoed in his mind. You're not destroyed. In all that time she never managed that, and now she never will. He could sense her trying to calm him, knew that if he let his emotions get control of him, he could lose his advantage, but couldn't seem to stop the agony of pain that swept over him.

"No one should ever have to go through what you've put me through, Buffy," he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," Buffy whispered. "I'm so sorry!" But he was no fool, and he could see the lie in her eyes. All she wanted was for him to let his guard down so that she could escape.

"No you're not, love," he said softly, most of his anger passing, giving way to the intensity of pain he could no longer hold back. He turned away from her, unable to bear the shame of her seeing just how badly she had damaged him.

Tara had averted her eyes during this whole exchange, in an effort to give them something resembling privacy. Now, when she heard his voice turn toward her, she looked up – just in time to see Buffy taking a second stake from her jeans pocket as she stood to her feet behind Spike, a look of bitter rage in her eyes.

"Get down!" Tara called out.

The urgency in her voice was clear, and Spike instantly dropped to the floor as the powerful surge of energy Tara sent out passed over his head and slammed into Buffy, throwing her back down to the floor on her face.

She did not move.

Spike stared at her prone form behind him, the stake that had rolled from her hand, and then back into Tara's eyes. They were shining with love as she held out gentle arms to embrace him. He had almost reached her when he physically felt the loss of the power that had been strengthening him, and sank to the ground, suddenly unable to move another step, as the agony Buffy had inflicted reclaimed his body. Tara was also looking down at herself with a strange expression; she had felt something too.

"They did it," she realized as she went to kneel on the floor and take her battered lover in her arms. "They completed the ritual. The seer said that once Reyem was defeated the power would revert to its natural place."

"Whatever you say, love," he whispered in a voice of sheer exhaustion as he fell into her embrace, leaning against her heavily as she held him close to her, his head on her shoulder. "You'll have to tell me how you did it…later."

"I didn't do it, Baby," she whispered, gently stroking his hair back to kiss his forehead tenderly. "It was Dawnie."

He smiled wearily at the thought. "Niblet saved the world."

Tara nodded, kissing him again, running her hands gently over his arms, his back. She couldn't take her eyes or her hands off him.

"I thought I'd lost you, my love," she softly said, pulling his face up so that she could look into his eyes. But what she saw there made her frown slightly. He tried to look away, suddenly self-conscious, but she held him, gently but firmly, not allowing it.

"Spike," she began slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze. "You are my life…my love. I wouldn't want to live without you. You knew I was coming for you…didn't you?"

He looked into her eyes, his own large and filled with a raw vulnerability that was almost painful to look at. He nodded hesitantly, then shook his head apologetically, trying to be honest with her. Then his face crumpled as he laid his head on her shoulder and cried.

She held him tight as he let the horrors he had been through that night pour out with his tears, running her fingers through his hair, and whispered, "I love you more than anything, my darling. I would never leave you. I love you!" She kept talking to him as he wept, soothing him as she had that first night in her apartment, when his nightmares had plagued him. She knew that after his ordeal, the nightmares were probably not gone for good yet.

But today, his nightmares had come to life.

And he had bravely faced them down.

"It's over, Baby," she assured him as he wept in her arms. "It's over."