The nightmares started two weeks after they got to Chicago. They came every night, pressing down on her, surrounding her, ripping the air from her lungs. She would thrash in her bed sheets, vainly trying to get away from the images that were burning themselves onto her brain.

Wes stood outside her door every time they came, watching his Slayer as she writhed. He couldn't have explained what exactly woke him up, except that it had something to do with the bond between Watcher and Slayer. He knew instinctively when something was wrong with her, when she was in pain. So night after night he would slide out of his bed and move to her room, watching.

It pained him to see her hurting so much. Her face would contort in anger as her head swung from side to side, her mouth curling into a sneer. He wanted to go to her, to wake her up, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't. Aside from the fact that everything probably wasn't going to be okay, it wasn't his place to go in there, to comfort her. He was afraid of what would happen if Faith woke up and found him in her room, his arms around her. So he kept his distance.

It amazed him how far their relationship had come. He could still remember the rage that built up in him every time he looked at her. But somewhere along the way, that had faded into the background. He thought it went back to when she had helped them defeat Angelus – something about her willingness to sacrifice herself to the fight…Wes had realized then just how much she had changed in prison.

Things had gone better in Chicago than he had anticipated. He had been afraid that they would clash too much, that getting an apartment together would drive both of them insane fairly quickly. But they had slipped into a routine, each taking care of different chores. And each night they went patrolling – they had agreed on the drive out there that they would never go out alone. They were a team, and there was safety in numbers.

Wes shook his head to clear his thoughts, his eyes once again resting on Faith. The nightmare had ended, and her body was still once again, although there was a sheen of sweat glistening on her face. He silently willed her to tell him, to open up to him. But deep down, he knew that she never would.

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Her disturbed sleep was starting to show. Dark circles appeared under her eyes, and it took her longer to get up in the mornings. Wes asked her what was wrong, giving her the opportunity to confide in him – but she just told him everything was fine and went about her day.

Another night, and he found himself once again standing in her doorway. He wasn't sure how much longer she could take this. Sooner or later he was going to have to force her to talk to him, for both their sakes. If this continued for much longer, she was going to get sloppy on patrol, and that could cost them their lives.

As he tried to come up with some way to approach her, Wes' eyes drifted to her face, and what he saw there made his blood run cold. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thrashed, and he knew immediately that there was something different about the nightmare she was having. All the other nights, her expression was angry, defiant…but tonight she looked helpless, as though she had lost everything.

Without another thought, he strode across the room to the bed. He climbed in and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. But her thrashing only grew worse as she tried to get away from him, his presence no doubt taking form in her nightmare. He shook her harder, fear gripping him.

"Faith," he called. "Faith, I need you to wake up!"

They continued to struggle, Wes knowing that he was going to have bruises in the morning. Even in sleep, his Slayer's strength vastly outmatched his.

"Faith!" he yelled. "Faith! It's only a dream. Faith –"

She sat up then, her eyes opening wide as she looked around the room, trying to find her bearings. Then her gaze settled on Wesley and she tried to pull away.

"Faith, stop," he ordered. "Just stop. This cannot go on any longer."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Faith. I know about the nightmares. You've had them every night for six weeks now."

She frowned. "How –"

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"How did you know I was in danger back in L.A.? Something wakes me up, tells me that you're not alright."

"So…what? You just stand around and watch me while I sleep? That's pretty creepy, Wes."

"I didn't know what else to do," he confessed quietly. "I wasn't sure you'd let me in…"

"Probably not," she admitted.

Giving her a faint smile, he released one of her shoulders and wiped away the tears still resting on her cheeks. She gave him a startled look, unsure of what he was doing. But as he continued to hold her gaze, her body relaxed. Leaning closer, she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt. "We're not exactly friends, Wes."

"We're all each other has, Faith."

She nodded at the truth of his words. Then she pulled away gently and laid back down, motioning for him to do the same. Laying on her back, she kept her eyes locked on the ceiling, refusing to look at him as she talked.

"It's the same dream every night. We go out on patrol. Someone's set up an ambush for us and we get taken. They tie us up, blindfold us, and then throw us into a van. It's a long drive. When we finally stop, they take us out and drag us into an abandoned warehouse. Then…Gwendolyn Post walks into the room."

Wes frowned, turning to look at Faith.

"Gwendolyn Post? Wasn't that the woman who pretended to be your new watcher when you got to Sunnydale?"

Faith nodded. "And it makes no sense, because the bitch is dead. I watched her die."

"Then what happens?"

"She has her men bring you to her. They force you to your knees and she puts a gun to your head. Then she turns to me and tells me that this is all my fault, that if I hadn't gotten in her way last time, you wouldn't have to die. And that's it. That's the dream."

"Until tonight," Wes said quietly.

Faith nodded, and he could tell that she was fighting back the emotion.

"What happened?" he asked.

Her jaw clenched.

"She put a bullet in your head."

They laid there for a moment, Wesley shocked by her words. He had thought there would be more to the dream, that they had hurt her in some way.

"And that…that's why you were crying?"

She shrugged, obviously uneasy.

"Like you said, English. You're all I've got."

He nodded before sitting up. Faith thought that he would leave then, uncomfortable with the emotion she had shown. Silently, she cursed herself – she had never planned on telling him any of this.

But instead of getting up, Wes reached down and straightened the blankets before pulling them up and covering them both. Then he laid back down.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Going to sleep."

"Here?"

"Unless it makes you terribly uncomfortable. This way I can wake you if you have any more nightmares."

She wanted to tell him to get lost, to leave her the hell alone, but her mouth refused to form the words. Instead, she turned on her side, facing away from him.

"Fine. But if you start hogging the blankets, I'll kick your ass."

Wes chuckled quietly.

"Understood, Faith. Goodnight."

"Night," she whispered.