"You know, this is getting boring."

The voice echoed in the darkness of the chamber, further distorted and muffled by the roar of his own agony and the disorientation brought about by long starvation...but it was still horribly familiar to the captive, still bound against the wall on his knees from his last encounter with his tormentors. The cold contempt in the man's voice sent a chill of terror through the vampire, who shuddered within his bonds as he heard heavy footsteps approaching.

A harsh fist struck his face without warning, slamming his head backward into the wall behind him and further muddling his thoughts. The prisoner had no idea what he had done to merit such punishment, but he kept carefully still, terrified of doing something to further displease his captors and bringing about more of the seemingly endless torment he had experienced the night before...and every night before that, for almost as long as he could remember.

"See?" the man remarked to his companions. "Hardly a reaction. It's sort of losing its appeal, isn't it?"

"Yeah," another familiar voice, though not quite as terrifying as the first, answered the cruel observation. "It hasn't tried to fight back in months, and it barely even moves anymore. Where's the fun in that?"

"Well, in its defense," the first voice argued in a tone of merciless mockery, "it *can't* really move much most of the time, now, can it?"

A steel-toed boot slammed into the kneeling vampire's damaged legs, and intense, shattering agony tore through his body as they were kicked out from under him, aggravating the injuries to both his legs, as well as his wounded neck which was left to bear his full weight, as his wrists were bound tightly behind his back. A searing pain shot from his raw throat through his entire body, and he gagged uselessly, trying to draw breath that wouldn't come in an instinctive reaction of panic.

"But yeah," the man continued, his voice flat and hard, and though he couldn't see him, the vampire knew he was staring coldly down at him, and shuddered under the menacing gaze, bound and helpless and painfully aware that he was at the mercy of the man towering over him. "No fun anymore."

The words felt like an accusation.

Apparently, they sounded that way to the second man as well. His voice was soft, almost sympathetic, as the vampire heard his slow, measured footsteps approaching, and his heart lurched with terror.

"Aw, come on, now. It's hardly its fault, is it?"

The prisoner sensed the motion, though he could not see it, as the man crouched in front of him...and then searing pain shot through his legs as they were pushed carelessly back into position under him so that he was kneeling again, by hands that were deceptively gentle despite their cruel actions, and lingered a few moments too long once they were finished.

The humans who held him captive in this place had devised countless more inventive methods of torment, so it had been months since he had felt it, but he still recognized the feel of a wooden stake pressed against his bare chest, and the vampire tensed as the sharp tip dug painfully into his flesh, already bruised and bloodied from a long night of abuse.

The man's voice remained soft, subtle menace wrapped in false sympathy, as he mused aloud, more for his victim's benefit than for that of his companions, "Maybe we should do it a favor...and just put it out of its misery...you think?"

*Please....please...oh, God, please do it...*

"Yeah," the second voice replied, still sounding bored. "Might as well. We can always get another one..."

The wooden tip pressed a fraction deeper, and he mentally begged it further, waiting in desperate anticipation for the moment that would end his suffering. But before it could accomplish that longed for conclusion, the stake was suddenly removed entirely, and with it the prisoner's only hope of escape. The intensity of his disappointment in that moment was far worse than the terror of death could have been.

"No," his tormentor decided softly. "I've got a better idea."

With a swift, sharp motion, the leather strap around his throat was removed, and he collapsed forward to the floor, his face impacting harshly with the cold concrete. He shook with terror as he felt hard, hot hands gripping his arms, pushing his face harder against the floor, and hot breath in his ear as an invasive hand trailed down the side of his bare, vulnerable body.

"What do you think, Seventeen? You up for taking a little ride?"

********************************

"This is getting really boring," the young brunette announced from her seat at Tara's kitchen table.

Tara turned around from the counter where she was mixing a fresh pitcher of lemonade, a single brow raised in the girl's direction. "Well, I could always take you home again."

"No, not *this*," Dawn clarified, rolling her eyes. "The whole ‘let's leave Dawnie at home alone while we go do our own thing' thing. When Buffy was around, they were annoying in the exact opposite way. I couldn't cross the street without somebody yanking me back inside the house, telling me it wasn't safe. And now, it's like..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, either unable or unwilling to finish that thought.

Tara picked up the pitcher and carried it in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other, setting everything down on the table before sitting down beside Dawn and reaching out to gently take her hand.

She had met the girl several months ago at a little magic shop downtown called the Magic Box, where she frequently shopped for the herbs and crystals and reference books she sometimes used. Tara knew how to perform a few very basic spells she had learned from her mother, before she had passed away a few years back. Her mother had been a very powerful witch, and Tara had inherited much of her magical knowledge, if not her power or talent.

One afternoon, Tara had noticed Dawn sitting at a large round table in the shop, on her own and appearing very lonely and bored. She had struck up a conversation with the girl, and her heart had ached at the eagerness with which Dawn had grasped onto the simple attention. From that point on, when Tara had gone in the Magic Box, she had looked for Dawn.

Most times, she found her.

Dawn's older sister Buffy had passed away a few months ago, and the teenager was having a difficult time dealing with the loss, as was to be expected. However, it was made even more difficult by the fact that her sister's friends, who were supposed to be taking care of her as per her sister's wishes, seemed to be so caught up in their own grief that they had all but forgotten the grieving child in their care.

Tara had decided then and there to be a friend to the lonely young girl. She had invited Dawn over one afternoon to watch movies, and gradually their visits had become a regular affair. Tara felt that it was the least she could do, really. After all, Dawn was dealing with far more than they were, and not only because Buffy had been her sister. Shortly before Buffy's death, Dawn's mother had passed away as well, suddenly, from a brain aneurism.

It was a lot of loss for a young girl in a very short time...but not all that she would face.

Dawn had opened up to Tara about the loss of her mother and sister, and eventually confided in her that shortly after Buffy's death, one of her sister's friends to whom she had grown very close had also been taken from her, mysteriously vanishing without a trace. Dawn said that she had searched all over town for him, without finding a clue as to where he had gone. His home and possessions were untouched, so it did not seem that he had willingly left town...and yet, he was gone.

Tara had encouraged the girl, reassuring Dawn that her friend would be found sooner or later; though secretly she had feared the worst. She had lived in Sunnydale long enough to know that many strange things happened in this town, and a mysterious disappearance such as the one Dawn described seemed suspicious to her. There was little doubt in Tara's mind that something terrible had happened to Dawn's friend, and she would likely never see him again - but she was not going to tell Dawn that.

The problem was, Dawn didn't seem ready or willing to let the subject go.

Her mother and sister were dead; she knew that, and knew that they were not coming back. In the loss of her friend, however, Dawn had had no such closure. She had not seen him go, did not know what had happened, and therefore could hold onto the hope that he might return.

In Tara's opinion, it was a cruel, devastating hope with little chance of fulfillment, but she would not be the one to snatch it from Dawn's heart.  

"Dawnie," Tara reassured the girl gently, well aware of how neglected and alone she felt. "I'm sure they just...they're dealing in their own ways, you know? And sometimes that makes them just...forget. It doesn't make it right, but...but I'm sure they don't mean to hurt you. They just...it's hard for them, too, you know?"

Dawn did not meet her eyes, staring dully across the table as she shrugged and pointed out, "At least they've got each other. They're all best friends. I'm just Buffy's kid sister to them."

"You've got me," Tara reminded her gently.

That brought a faint smile to Dawn's lips, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. After a moment's silence, she asked quietly, "Do you think he's all right?"

Tara didn't have to ask who she meant, and she swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the idea of lying to spare the girl's feelings, as much as with hurting her with the truth.

"I don't know," she evasively replied. "I mean...we have no way of knowing..."

"He knows how to take care of himself," Dawn offered hopefully. "I mean...he's really tough, and really brave. I think he could handle pretty much anything...it's just..." Her voice trailed off, and she frowned, her eyes fearful as she looked up to meet Tara's concerned gaze. "He sort of has this...handicap."

Tara's eyes widened in dismay, the situation in her mind becoming much, much worse. "Your friend is handicapped?"

"Sort of," Dawn repeated, not clarifying much with her words, her gaze averted again. "I just...I just wish I could know what happened, you know? Or not even what happened, just...just whether or not he's okay."

Tara did her best to raise Dawn's spirits, but for once, the girl would not be cheered. As the afternoon faded away into twilight, Tara drove Dawn home, relieved at least to know that if the girl was past dark getting home, her surrogate family would worry.

Which was...something, anyway.

After taking Dawn home, Tara drove for a while, lost in her own thoughts. For some strange reason the vampire she had dreamed about returned to her mind, and she wondered about him again, grimly debating in her mind whether or not the dream held any real meaning. After some time, she put it out of her mind, and noticed with little surprise that she had driven across town to the Magic Box, and was parked outside.

She wondered what trick of her subconscious might have brought her there, then sighed as she thought of Dawn and her heartache over her friend.

*You could solve it for her, one way or another. You could find the answer, for better or worse...you could find her friend...*

Tara debated for a moment, uncertain. She tried her best not to do too many spells these days, trying to avoid the consequences she had been taught followed without fail in the wake of magic. Of course, a simple location spell was a small matter, not too complicated, and one she had done numerous times before.

*It'd only take a few minutes...*

With a sigh, Tara made her decision, turning on the engine of her car again.

She would do what she could to give Dawnie some piece of mind...but she would not do it here. There was too great a chance that Dawn and her caretakers might be here at the moment; she had spent enough time just driving around that they could easily have beaten her to the shop, and they did seem to be there at odd hours many times. Tara did not want to risk Dawn's finding out what she was doing - not until she knew for a fact that it would work.

And if the results she found were the ones she feared - possibly not ever.

There was another magic shop on the other side of town, the side of town Tara generally tried to avoid, but she decided to make the trip, just this once. The magic shop she had in mind was one she did not usually patronize, as it specialized in darker fare than the Magic Box, and gave her a weird, creeped out feeling every time she had been inside it.

It wouldn't be dangerous, she reassured herself; she would go in, get what she needed, and get out.

She was ready to get out the moment she walked through the door.

With a shaky sigh Tara set about gathering the familiar ingredients from the dusty shelves of the dimly lit shop, avoiding the leering stare of the strange man behind the counter. He looked ordinary enough, if a bit intimidating, dressed in dark clothing and tall and surly...but still, there was something in Tara that was not really completely sure he even *was* a man. She knew better than most, there were many demon species that easily passed for human.

As she picked up a packet of the last herb on her list and placed it in her shopping basket, Tara turned and headed toward the counter. Yet even as she did, she felt the urge to turn around again, and look in the small side room where the more dangerous items were typically kept.

That knowledge alone should have been enough reason not to enter that room.

Still, Tara felt inexplicably drawn to it.

*Just look inside...maybe there's something...*

*No...get out of here...there's something seriously wrong with this place...*

*Just a peek...looking couldn't hurt...*

With a sigh, Tara headed for the door, thinking that she would look, satisfy her momentary irrational curiosity, and be gone mere moments later than she had planned to be. She pushed aside the curtain of hanging beads that formed a barrier between the main area of the shop and the back room, letting them fall closed around her as her eyes adjusted to the darker atmosphere of the tiny room.

As soon as they had adjusted, her eyes went wide with stunned disbelief, as they focused on a lone figure near the back wall, kneeling and chained and eerily familiar.

The man from her dreams.