He sat up suddenly in the silent darkness of the room, unsure what exactly had awakened him. No sound broke the stillness that surrounded him. His eyes were drawn toward the window – where she waited, her pretty features twisted into a cruel smile.

Instinctively he reached for Tara beside him, but for some reason she was not there. He was alone – alone with her. He wanted to call out, he wanted to run, but his mouth and limbs were frozen with terror, refusing to function.

As she slowly climbed through the window and approached him, her face began sliding in and out of its hideous demonic visage, and the truth of what she had become was made known to him.

Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "But I have to invite you…"

"You did, Baby," she laughed in surprise at his words, smiling triumphantly as she reached his bedside. "You already did."

Her soft human features formed a sweeter smile as she slowly came across the bed toward him.

A cold fear came over him as he whispered, shaking his head slightly, "But you're gone."

"Silly," she murmured, her hands on his shoulders pushing him back down onto the bed. "No I'm not. I'll always be here. No matter what you do, I'll always be here with you."

"T-tara," he managed a strangled whisper through the fear that paralyzed him.

She laughed again. "She thinks she can help you. But she can't." She leaned in close to whisper, looking him in the eye, "I'm so deep inside you she doesn't even know I'm here. I own parts of you she doesn't know exist! No matter how hard you try to pretend it's not true – you'll always be mine."

And with those chilling words she leaned in to claim his mouth with her kiss.

Though his mind screamed, No, stop, his body responded to her kiss, his mouth hungrily searching hers, desperately seeking something…what? He was grasping at her, reaching for some elusive thing; he could not remember what, only that he desperately needed it.

Suddenly, her true nature surfaced, and she pulled back to slash him across his face with fangs like razors. He tried to scream but no sound came out, as the blood gushed from his wounds. She smiled viciously as she lapped it from his face with her tongue before turning her face to sink her fangs into his throat.

He weakly tried to fight her, tried to scream, tried to get away, but was powerless against her strength. She held him pinned to the bed as she drew the borrowed life from his body with dizzying force.

"Please!" he managed to gasp out, feeling the cold emptiness aching through his body, knowing she was about to drain him completely, as his efforts slowly stilled. "I won't – have anything – left!"

She pulled back with a hideously cruel, heartless smile to look in his eyes as she said, "That's when I'll stop – when there's nothing left!" And then she tore into his throat again with her fangs.

He struggled weakly against her powerful arms as a soft red mist fell over his vision – everything was fading. Still he fought vainly.

A distant voice, slowly increasing in volume, tried to cut through the haze that surrounded him, as the hard hands that pinned him down became soft, warm arms encircling him.

"Spike! Baby! Come on, Sweetheart, wake up!"

With a start his eyes flew open, wide with terror as he gasped for unneeded breath. He stared down at the arms that held him, gently, not forcefully, from behind, before rolling quickly onto his other side to face their owner.

Tara.

Her own soft grey eyes were wide with concern and sorrow as her hand moved gently up to push back a damp blonde curl. "Hey, Baby," she said softly, her hand moving behind his head to gently caress the back of his neck. "You okay?"

As the realization that it had been no more than a dream slowly sank in, his body began to shake with relief and delayed shock. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. "Shh," she whispered, her hand making a slow, comforting path up and down his back. "It's ok, Baby. You're safe now. You're here with me and you're safe."

He clung to her with the desperation of a man drowning in his own pain and fear. "Oh, God, Tara!" he gasped, clutching, trembling fingers urgently pulling her closer. "Tara!"

Tears filled her eyes at the raw hurt in his hoarse whisper. "My baby," she whispered, gently tightening her embrace. "It's all right, I'm right here. I'm right here, Sweetheart."

For a long time she just held him like that, wondering with the beginnings of despair if they would ever be able to get past the events of the past few months.

It had been two days since Dawn had performed the ritual to remove Reyem, the evil power-mad entity that had been controlling Buffy and Willow – two nights since Buffy had disappeared from her bedroom, while they thought she was still unconscious, recovering from the harrowing effects of the ritual – and also the magical beating Tara had given her.

Through Buffy, this power-seeking being had terrorized and abused Spike for months, culminating in that fateful night when she had taken him to her basement and spent hours torturing him, trying in vain to force him to renounce the one thing he had that she did not yet control – the love he shared with Tara. Tara had arrived not a moment too soon, but thankfully not too late, and had fought Buffy. Eventually, to keep her from killing Spike, she had had to deal her a stunning blow which had rendered her unconscious.

Once Dawn had completed the ritual, Willow had reverted to her natural self, no longer controlled by the evil that had used her to wreak such havoc. They could assume that Buffy had also returned to herself, but really didn't know for sure. One moment she had been unconscious in her bed, and the next time they had checked on her, she was gone.

Gently pulling away so that she could look at him, Tara asked softly, "The same dream as last night?"

He nodded, tears streaking his face, and when his huge, luminous blue eyes rose to meet hers, she was stunned at the way her breath caught in her throat. Even like this, trembling, tear-soaked, vulnerable, he was the most beautiful creature she had ever known.

The intense love he saw in her eyes gave him strength, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Drawing comfort from her soft arms around him, nestling further into her embrace, he chanced a look toward the window. But of course, this was reality, not a nightmare, and the drapes were closed tight against the first rays of dawn, just beginning to appear.

"Where do you think she is?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice soft and careful. "I'm sure she's all right, Spike. She's probably very confused right now. She's probably afraid to face…everyone."

"Do you think she remembers…what happened?" he asked quietly, his voice halting.

"Willow does," Tara pointed out, a pain running through her heart at the thought of her ex-lover. Willow had been so distraught over the things she had done while under Reyem's control, and the things she had caused by calling on him in the first place,that she had been unable to even be around her friends. She had gone to stay with her parents for a little while, until she "felt up to it" again. But Tara knew in her heart that if she stayed away too long, she never would return.

So here they were, in Willow's room at Buffy's house. Someone had to stay with Dawn, since they had no idea where Buffy was, when she would be back, or what condition she would come back in. Since Willow had left, they were elected. Or rather, Tara was. Xander had thrown a fit about having Spike stay with Dawn, and Tara had severely informed him that she would not be staying without Spike. He had been about to protest further when Dawn had broken in, declaring that this was her house too, and if Xander said another word he would be welcome in it.

So it was decided that until Buffy showed up and was capable of taking care of Dawn again, Tara and Spike would stay there with her, since Tara's tiny apartment was far too small for three people.

Tara felt odd, sleeping with Spike in the same bed where she had slept with Willow, but she knew it was nothing compared to the trauma that sleeping in Buffy's bed would have been for Spike – so Willow's bed it was.

Tara had always been good at handling other people's emotional hurts, but she felt terribly inadequate to deal with what Spike had to be going through right now. In the past few months he had suffered unspeakable abuses of every kind, and at the hands of someone he had once loved with all his heart. She wanted to find the words to be his cure, to heal the hurt instantly and make it all okay again.

But those words did not exist.

All she could do was love him, hold him, reassure him from his fears, and do her best to answer his questions.

"I think Buffy probably remembers," she nodded slowly, her cheek resting against his head.

He was silent for a moment before he began, "Do – do you think…"

But his voice caught in his throat as his tears choked him.

Tara just held him, waiting in silence until he could go on.

Finally he managed to get the words out in a whisper, "Do you think she's sorry?"

Her tears overflowed at that as she instinctively pulled him closer. "Oh, Sweetie," she whispered, heartbroken by his pain. "I'm sure she is. That's why she isn't here right now. She's having a hard time facing what she did to you."

They were both silent for a long time, just holding each other.

"I – I know it wasn't her – not really," he finally said, with a bit more control now. "I know she's probably sorry, but – but I don't know if it matters. I don't know if – if I can ever – forgive her."

"I know, Baby," Tara replied simply, placing a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. "I know."