He wasn't quite sure what awakened him from the peaceful slumber he had fallen into, wrapped in Tara's embrace.

Suddenly, with a jolt, he was sitting upright in the bed, feeling a heavy sense of dread for which he knew no reason. He glanced to the side to see the blonde witch he had fallen in love with, lying there sound asleep with a contented smile on her face. He looked anxiously around the darkened room, but his enhanced vampire sight did not take in any possible cause for the subconscious alarm that had shattered his sleep.

Swallowing back the fearful knot in his throat, Spike lay back down and nestled in close to Tara, feeling a wave of relief as, in her sleep, she wrapped her arms gently around him and pulled him in nearer. He rested his head against her breast, breathing in her comforting scent, which had become so dearly familiar to him over the past few weeks.

"Shhh,"he heard her murmur as her chin rested lightly on the top of his head, "It's okay, Baby...it's okay...I'm here..."

Spike's stomach dropped as her voice shifted, changing, to become that of another, his mouth going dry with terror as she used a term of endearment that Tara would never have used with him, well aware of the demeaning connotations it now held in Spike's mind.

Only Buffy called him "Baby".

He tried to pull away from her as he raised his head to meet the glittering green eyes of his abuser, but Buffy only held him tighter, her lips tightening in a cruel, determined smile as she rolled them so that he was pinned beneath her on the bed. He struggled frantically to free himself, but she caught his wrists, holding them down on either side of his head, apparently effortlessly.

"Tara! Angel!" Spike cried out desperately, his voice hoarse and breaking with his fear. "Help me! *Tara*!"

Buffy laughed, a rich, dark sound that filled his head as well as the room. "Scream all you want, Spike," she taunted him as she brought his wrists together over his head, pinning them with one hand. "Nobody can help you. It's just you and me here, Baby...you're all alone..."

"No, no!"

 Spike sobbed out the word, despairing, as she ran her newly freed hand slowly, casually, down his side, and he realized suddenly that he was naked. Somehow, both the blankets and the clothes he had been wearing had vanished completely, and he was bare, vulnerable and exposed to her every whim.

"Yes, Spike," she sneered. "You're mine...you'll always be mine...and it doesn't matter what they tell you...doesn't matter if they say you're safe...they can't keep me away from you. I'll always find you, Baby."

"Please," Spike sobbed, uselessly struggling to free himself as her hand gradually shifted lower, becoming more invasive, more controlling. "Please, stop...don't..."

"I'll always find you, Spike...no one can help you..."

"No, no, please...stop it! Stop, please..."

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

"Spike! *Spike*, wake up! Come on, Sweetie, wake up, it's just a dream! It's just a dream, Sweetheart, come on..."

Tara's anxious voice, her gently shaking hands, broke through the nightmare images that imprisoned him, and Spike sat up abruptly with a sharp cry of fear, his hands instinctively shoving her away from him.

"Stop," he gasped out, scrambling back against the headboard, his breath coming in rapid, shallow pants. "Stop, don't..."

"Spike, it's me, its just me," Tara reassured him softly, edging cautiously near enough to touch him again, her hands gently seeking his. "It's Tara, Sweetie...it was just a dream."

He stared up at her, trapped between the world of his dreams and reality, for a long moment. He glanced away, noting the faint glimmer of light filtering through the curtains, revealing that morning had come. He looked back at Tara, and finally, he seemed to really see her, his expression becoming clearer, as he echoed her words in haunted desperation.

"Just a dream? Just...just a dream...yeah..." His words trailed off in a breathless whisper as the hands that had pushed her away pulled her desperately close again. "Tara," he gasped. "Tara..."

"It's okay," she whispered back, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude as he allowed her close again. "It's okay, Sweetie, shhh..."

The quiet, respectful knock on the door drew both of their attention reluctantly, as Tara called out softly, "Who is it?"

"It's Angel," a rather uncomfortable voice spoke from the other side of the door. "We need you guys downstairs when you get a chance. Wes found something."

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

Half an hour later, Spike and Tara were seated comfortably on the circular sofa in the lobby, one of her arms wrapped around his waist, the other hand locked with his in her lap. Angel and his crew were gathered in the room, though Dawn was still asleep, and they had felt it was wiser to leave her so, until they knew exactly what it was that Wesley had discovered.

Spike felt a bit safer, though the vivid images from the nightmare still filled his mind, with the echo of Buffy's menacing words.

*It's just you and me here, Baby...you're all alone...*

Tara's gently squeezing hand drew back his attention, and let him know that he had given away his fear in some way. He forced a brave smile for her benefit, nodding as she mouthed the words of reassurance to him.

"Just a dream."

He settled in against her again, and they both turned their attention back to Wesley.

"After the events of last night, I'll confess," the ex-Watcher spoke with a little grimace, "I didn't sleep well. Couldn't sleep at all, actually...so I continued my study on the ritual Buffy performed...the one involving the...the mark?" As he spoke he glanced toward Spike...and then, quickly away again uncomfortably.

"And you found something?" Tara asked, catching his eye and locking onto his gaze with her own. "Something useful?"

"Well, I do hope so," Wesley nodded tentatively. "I have conclusively determined precisely what ritual she used...and I believe I've located the reversal for the ritual, as well. The problem is...both rituals involve very dark, very ancient magicks...nothing that a Slayer would typically be invoking. And the reversal spell...well, it's in what appears to be an archaic demon language. Fortunately, I believe I've seen it before, and I was able to make out portions of the ritual...but I'm going to need a bit more time to complete it."

"More time...or maybe help?" Tara suggested thoughtfully.

All eyes turned toward her, Angel's with a particular interest, as they waited for her to go on.

"I don't know if Buffy and the others...well, they might not have contacted Giles, in England. Either way...I think we should call him. I think...I think he might help," Tara explained. "And...no offense, Wesley, but...he's got a few years on you in the area of researching these things. Maybe he knows more about this particular language."

"Perhaps," Wesley conceded with a nod. "That might be wise."

"What if he just takes Buffy's side automatically?" Angel pointed out with a worried frown. "I mean...it's not a bad idea, Tara, but...if he doesn't believe us, we could end up worse off than we are right now. If we have to deal with Buffy *and* the Watcher's Council..."

"Well, it's not like we've really got to hurry at this point, is it?" Cordelia pointed out. "With the sanctuary spell in place, it's not like she can hurt anybody. We're safe as long as we stay inside, right? So...we can take our time and be sure we're making the right decision about involving Giles."

"Good point," Angel agreed with a nod. "It's something to think about...but...we need to be sure before we make the call."

"So...what *could* you tell about the ritual, from what you could read of it?" Tara asked softly, idly reaching a hand up to run gently through Spike's hair as she spoke to Wesley.

She was acutely aware of the tension in his slight frame, the tremors that coursed through him every few minutes, and she knew that whatever his nightmare had held, it was still with him now, still consuming his thoughts and keeping him quiet and distracted throughout the conversation that was so vital to his future, more so than for any of the rest of them.

Tara was so concerned that she had to pull her own focus back onto the conversation as Wesley began to answer her question.

"Well, I've managed to decipher the ingredients required for the reversal. Most of them are fairly standard items, usually available in your typical authentic magic store. However...one vital ingredient may be a bit...well, harder to procure."

"What ingredient?"

Wesley hesitated, drawing in a deep breath before he replied, "The blood of the one who cast the original spell."

"Which in this case is a lethal weapon on legs who also happens to be a psycho," Gunn pointed out flatly. "Good luck getting that one, guys..."

"Especially with her friends around her, one of whom is very proficient in magicks herself," Wesley agreed with a grim nod. "We can't harm her within the building...and can't safely attempt to do so outside."

"Well, the good news is that as long as Spike stays inside, she can't use the blood bond to hurt him...can she?" Fred hesitantly put in, glancing between Tara, Wesley and Angel for the answer.

"No," Angel confirmed. "She can't. So...we're kind of at a stalemate here."

"Well," Wesley sighed, "I'll continue my research, see if I can translate any more of the text."

"I'll help," Fred volunteered with a bright smile, jumping up from where she sat cross-legged on the floor...unaware as she did of the elated look of adoration on the former Watcher's face.

As the Angel Investigations crew began going about their business, Spike turned toward Tara, meeting her concerned gaze with troubled blue eyes. In response to the silent question in his eyes, she wrapped her arms around him tighter, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple as she did her best to soothe him.

"It's gonna be okay, Spike," she whispered. "She can't touch you in here, okay? She can't touch you. You have to remember that."

Spike nodded shakily, swallowing hard, apparently unable to find words at the moment.

"Okay," Tara nodded in response. "I'm gonna see if I can do anything to help with the research. You wanna...?"

"That's okay, love." Spike shook his head. "I just...think I need to...to be alone for a bit, yeah? You do the...book thing, and I'll just...I'll just go back upstairs."

Tara frowned as he gently disentangled himself from her embrace, sitting up straight on the sofa for a moment, before rising to his feet and heading toward the stairs. "Spike...are you sure?"

"Yeah," he assured her with a smile over his shoulder that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll...I'll be fine, love."

Tara hesitated as he continued on, but decided not to stop him. If he needed space right now, then she didn't want to crowd him, to force upon him comfort that would only prove to be counter effective.

The problem was...she wasn't sure that Spike *knew* what he needed right then.

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

Spike walked into the darkened bedroom at the top of the stairs without bothering to turn on the light, closing the door quietly behind him and pausing there for a moment, catching his breath, before moving slowly toward the window. The curtains were drawn, leaving only a slight sliver of light to filter through, and making it safe for him to move nearer to the window.

He sat down in the chair beside it, staring out into the sunlight blankly. He wasn't sure what was the best thing to do, or even what he should feel or think anymore. He felt safe in Tara's presence, most of the time, but even in his sleep, he could not escape the agony of his past with Buffy. He wanted so much to believe that he would be able to eventually move past this...but the way he felt right then, it didn't seem possible.

He would always be haunted by her.

Suddenly, a familiar scent filled his senses, and he felt a chill of terror run down his spine as he heard a single soft footstep behind him. He tried to turn around, but found to his horror that she was standing far too close to allow him much freedom of movement at all. One perfectly manicured, slim hand rested on the windowsill, hemming him in, as she leaned in close behind him, soft blonde hair brushing against his throat as she whispered.

"Hey, Baby."

Spike wanted to cry out in fear, but found that his throat felt constricted, and he could not seem to make a sound. He reminded himself desperately that she could not actually hurt him, not here, not now. She hadn't actually touched him yet, and he reassured himself with that knowledge.

She hadn't...because she *couldn't*.

The only place she could still hurt him was in his dreams...and this was most definitely real.

But that comforting thought had barely crossed his mind, when Buffy spoke again softly in his ear, familiar words that chilled his already cool blood with a sudden understanding.

"Scream all you want, Spike. Nobody can help you. It's just you and me here, Baby...you're all alone..."