A/N: Toby is not A for the purposes of this story.

1. Premonition

Toby Cavanaugh awoke from his fitful night of sleep sweaty and shaken. Sweat coated his face and his hair was plastered to his skin. His eyes flickered open, and he eased himself into a sitting position as he emerged from the nightmare that had just been haunting him.

The content of the nightmare itself had already become fuzzy and confusing, and he seemed to forget more with each passing second. He remembered two crucial things, however. First, Spencer had been in his dream, and second, he had been terrified. He brought a shaky hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what had seemed so real moments before. Was it he who had been terrified, or was it Spencer? Suddenly, he remembered that Spencer had been screaming in the dream – that was the reason for his terror.

His immediate reaction upon realizing this was to go find Spencer immediately and make sure she was okay. But then Toby realized just how stupid that sounded – it had been a dream after all. With everything A had put him and his friends through, night terrors and anxiety dreams were sort of expected. It wasn't as if he hadn't had scary dreams before – he had had his fair share of them over the last several years – but he'd never had a dream of this intensity. He'd never woken from a dream so worried about someone, or so disturbed.

The fear and worry still clung to him, even after he knew it had simply been a dream. All he could think about was Spencer. He couldn't shake off the lingering fear that she was out there somewhere, scared and helpless as she had been in his dream. And that fear refused to let Toby lie his head back down on the pillow and doze off.

Toby looked around his small loft bedroom. Little decorated it except a small writing desk near the large window. Pretty red lace curtains covered the window, a present from Spencer soon after he'd moved into the loft. He swung his legs to the floor and took a few hesitant steps toward the window, pulling back the curtain to gaze into the darkness of the night. The street below the loft was dim, the streetlights offering only a pale glow of visibility directly around them. Somehow, it felt eerie. Toby pulled back the curtains.

He turned to the desk and pulled open the top drawer. There was his small flip phone, and he quickly grasped it and flipped it open. According the cellphone, it was 2:43 AM – a ridiculous hour to expect to get through to someone on the phone. Still, he found Spencer on his small contact list and began to quickly compose a text message.

Spencer – I had this weird dream and I just have to make sure you're OK. Text me back ASAP. –Toby.

He pressed send as soon as he'd finished typing, waiting impatiently until he heard the swooshing sound that meant the text had been sent. Now, all he had to do was wait for Spencer to reply.

Toby realized this was ridiculous – Spencer was most likely asleep by now. It would probably be a few hours before she woke, checked her phone, and replied to the message. He imagined her exasperation upon receiving the message. He could practically visualize the way her eyebrows would knot together in confusion when she realized Toby had freaked out about her over one silly dream. She would be a little amused though, and perhaps maybe a bit honored as she teased him. He could see the trace of a smile lighting up her face and the warmth of her voice as she chided him for being so overprotective of her.

It was only then, after imagining a conversation with her, that he realized how ridiculous he'd been. It was simply a nightmare – nothing more. Toby began to regret sending the text as he got back into bed and pulled the sheets over himself. That text sounded as if it was from a frightened child, not a grown man with the ability to separate reality from dreams. Well, he thought, at least it'll be a good conversation topic tomorrow. Not as if he needed a conversation topic when he was with Spencer – everything came naturally when he was with her. They didn't even need anything to talk about – he could just look into her warm brown eyes and feel at peace.

Gradually, Toby began to drift off, his fears temporarily pushed away. He kept his phone on his bedside table so he could receive Spencer's reply as soon as possible. The phone stayed silent for the entire night, and Toby slept soundly.

When he woke at six-thirty AM, he promptly went to take his morning shower before he went to start his construction job. The fear he'd had last night was all but forgotten, and Toby could concentrate only on the wonderful feeling of the hot water on his skin. After he'd finished showering, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around himself. He padded back into the bedroom and began to get dressed. Just as he was pulling the final article of clothing on – a red T-shirt – his phone made a buzzing sound.

He rushed over to pick it up, relief and embarrassment flooding through him as he prepared for Spencer's witty, and probably somewhat sarcastic reply. What he found instead on the screen was something entirely different – something that made his blood run cold. It was a message from A.

Hey Toby. I have your precious little girlfriend with me. Want to get her back? Then you better do what I say.