He stood alone in the bedroom, gazing out the window with a sense of dread in his heart. He knew she would come. There was nothing to stop her – no barrier, visible or invisible, capable of keeping her out. He thought for some reason that he should go find Tara. Although he knew intellectually that he was the physically stronger of the two, he somehow always felt safer with her there.

He was just about to turn and head downstairs, when an arm of iron wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight against a very familiar body. Before he could cry out, make a sound, a small hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

"Shh," a softly menacing voice whispered in his ear. "We don't want to be interrupted, do we?"

He struggled vainly against the deceptively soft arm encircling his waist, like velvet over steel. "Now, come on, Baby, don't be like that," she murmured in his ear. "I don't wanna have to hurt you." He stilled immediately, nearly consumed with terror. She smirked, so close that he could feel the movement of her lips by his ear. "Who am I kidding?" she laughed cruelly. "Yes, I do!"

She suddenly spun him around and threw him back onto the bed. The moment he was released, he tried to call out, tried to get up and run, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak – as always, utterly powerless against her.

Still smiling at him, she approached slowly. "I'm back, Baby," she whispered in a low, suggestive tone. "Back to take what's mine."

He shook his head, unable to make any other protest. "No! Not yours!" he wanted to say, to scream, but his mouth still wouldn't seem to work.

Just then, he heard slow footsteps coming up the stairs, and felt a tremendous unreasonable relief, followed by fear when reality set in. Because someone was coming, he would no longer be alone with this vision from his nightmares, but what could anyone do against her now?

The person who appeared in the doorway, however, did nothing to allay his fears in any way.

Angelus.

He instantly knew, this was not the annoying, soulful version of his sire, but infinitely more dangerous, the demon in its true form, unrestrained by the dictates of conscience.

"Hey, Baby," Buffy smiled up at him, and it took Spike a moment to realize that she was addressing Angelus and not him with the endearment.

Suddenly he found his voice to object in a whisper, "But – but he can't…this isn't his…"

"I invited him in," she explained with a smug smile, climbing onto the bed, advancing in a predatory stalk until she was directly over him, her hands on either side of his head as she held her body over his, not touching him…yet. "This is all still mine, Baby. All of it. The house…and everything and everyone in it." By the end her lips were inches from his, and her voice was a whisper as her cruel, feral eyes met his.

Her sparkling, unearthly green eyes darted to Angelus, who was still smiling, despite the sight of Buffy atop his childe. Somewhere in the back of his mind Spike recognized that as very odd; shouldn't his sire be furious, storming across the room to separate them and tear one or both of them apart? But he just stood there smiling, and as Spike watched, leaned comfortably against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him, as if watching a very amusing show.

"Everything under control downstairs?" Buffy asked Angelus, a cruel smirk turning up the corners of her mouth.

"It's done, Lover," Angelus nodded, a hard, satisfied smile on his lips.

A thrill of fear shot through Spike. "Oh, God, Tara! Dawn! What have you done?" he demanded shakily.

"Dawn!" Buffy sneered, laughing softly to herself. Then she put a mock-serious, pouty look on her face as she looked back at Spike. "Oh, come on, now, Baby, we had to do it. She pulled me out of the dark once before…I can't take a chance of letting her do it again!"

"No!" he moaned, his voice almost a sob. "No, Buffy, how could you…" His voice trailed off. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears, breathing hard, trying to control his emotions. Not Dawn! No, please not Dawn!

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he looked at her again. "Tara," he whispered. "What did you do to Tara?"

Buffy laughed out loud. "Silly," she said. "I didn't do anything to her. She's right here!"

She gestured with her hand, and he looked to the side.

Suddenly, Tara was lying there, right beside him, apparently sleeping. As he looked on, she slowly, sleepily raised her head to take in the scene before her. Then she smiled slowly.

"Hi, Buffy," she murmured lazily. Then she leaned around to see who was in the doorway and added, "Hey, Angel. Finally! I thought you guys would never get here!"

"T-tara…" he whispered, desperately trying to catch her eye. He could not understand why the sight of Buffy and Angelus did not disturb her at all – why she in fact seemed pleased to see them.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie," she said, an apologetic smile on her face. "It was fun for a little while, but come on!" She rolled her eyes in irritation before shaking her head and giving him a knowing grimace.

His own eyes widened in stunned betrayal. "Tara – I – I thought you loved me!"

Her eyes met his sympathetically, almost patronizing, and she reached a hand to touch his cheek tenderly as she spoke in a pouty voice, "Oh, come on, Sweetie. You had to know it couldn't last. I mean, there's only so much whining and cringing a girl can take, you know? I need a real man – if I didn't, I'd still be with Willow." She patted his cheek lightly before removing her hand and looking up at Buffy. "He's all yours," she told her, rolling over to go back to sleep.

"Tara – no!" he gasped, shaking his head in disbelief at her back, suddenly turned to him.

"I told you," Buffy whispered, drawing his eyes back to her face with her cold, triumphant voice. "She never really loved you. And even if she did – she couldn't help you. You'll always be mine, Baby. Always."

He sat up in the bed, gasping for breath, eyes wide, trembling all over, as the dark relief of reality washed over him. Moments after he sat up, two firm, warm arms encircled him, and he felt the comforting weight of Tara's head on his shoulder.

"What is it?" she whispered, as his hands gripped her arms at his waist, struggling to physically hold onto the truth, the reality, of her love. "The same dream again?"

He shook his head, still unable to speak, and leaned his head backward against her shoulder. Finally he whispered, "Oh, God, Tara, this has got to stop! I – I can't…" His voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions.

"Shh," she murmured, kissing him gently. "It's ok, Baby. What – what was the dream about?"

He raised his head and pulled away slightly to face her, his wide blue eyes on hers. "Buffy – and – and Angel – only – no…Angelus." A sick suspicion growing in his eyes, he looked away as he whispered, "Bloody hell!" His eyes found hers again, as he said, "The last dream I had was prophetic…so then…Angel's lost his soul! He's Angelus again!"

There was a heavy concern in her soft, serious grey eyes as she began, slowly, cautiously, "Sweetheart…seeing Angel again…everything that's happened, and then…then Buffy coming back like she did…it's all been a lot for you to handle…" As she spoke, her arms around him tightened slightly, and her hand gently ran up and down his arm.

His piercing blue eyes searched hers as he shook his head, insistently. "No! This is not all in my head, Tara! The last dream came true! It happened! Buffy came back and she is a vampire! Just like in my dream! And then Angel shows up out of the blue…and I dream about Buffy and Angelus…why do you think he's here, love?"

Tara looked away, frowning. "I – I don't know. I think it's natural that he would come, for Buffy. I mean, he does love her. And honey…we talked about that first dream… what it meant…you know, in connection to how you feel about what she did…it wasn't necessarily a prophecy, Spike. It could be just – just…"

"A coincidence?" he finished, his doubt evident in his voice. "I have a very hard time believing that, love. And – and there was something else…" He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, trying to remember. Suddenly his eyes flew open, fearful.

"Dawn!"

"What about her?" Tara asked, her voice gentle and patient.

"In the dream…Angelus killed her! Because Buffy told him to!" he replied, the expression in his eyes nearing panic. "She said – she said something about – Dawn pulled her out of darkness, and she wasn't gonna let her do it again…Dawn's in danger!"

Tara was frowning again. "Honey, it all just fits so perfectly with everything that's happened…you've been through hell, and now that she's been turned, you're scared that she's going to come back and hurt you, or me or Dawn. That's normal, and it's normal for it to show up in your dreams. That doesn't mean they're necessarily going to come true, honey."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Something she had said had brought back another memory from the dream. In it, Buffy had not, in fact, threatened Tara at all. Rather, Tara had seemed more than willing to let Buffy take him. She had seemed – tired of him. The thought brought a lump to his throat, and tears to his eyes.

He pressed them back. He would not tell Tara about that part of the dream. She had had enough of his "whining and cringing" already, he was sure, regardless of the significance of the dream. She did not need to be reassuring him from his insecurities, not right now when there were so many more things to be worried about.

He was not at all sure that she was right about the dream, however. The first dream had come to pass. What reason was there to think that this one would not? He looked back up into her eyes, about to argue. But what he saw there stopped him. She looked sad, and tired, and deeply concerned – for him? He had the very uncomfortable feeling that she was worried about how he was handling the situation, worried that when all was said and done, he was not going to get over this.

With an effort, bringing a weak smile to his lips, he looked away again. "You're probably right, love," he said softly. "It's – it's probably nothing. Just me – being a soddin' idiot. It – it'll be fine."

She could hear the forced sound in his voice, knew that he was not okay, only trying to appease her. "Baby," she said gently. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

"I know," he broke in, unable to keep a hint of irritation from his voice, because as badly as he needed the concern and love he saw in Tara's eyes, he was just so bloody tired of everyone's looking at him with pity and speaking to him as if he were injured, fragile. "Let's just forget it, okay? Let's go back to sleep. I'm really very, very tired, love." And he sounded tired.

And before she could say anything else, he had pulled himself out of her embrace and laid down on the bed.

Turning his back to her.

Across town at the Magic Box, Anya was just finishing counting the money in the register, preparing to lock up for the night. The last customer had left an hour ago, and she was ready to leave and go home to the apartment she shared with Xander.

She heard the tinkling sound of the bells above the door and said automatically without glancing up, "I'm sorry we're closed. Bring your money back tomor…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes rose, and she realized who had entered.

"Buffy!" she exclaimed, about to go around the counter. But then an uncomfortable, fearful feeling went through her at the smile on Buffy's face, and she stopped where she was. Maybe having the counter between them was a good thing. "Um, where did you go?" she asked her, her voice a little too bright. "We've all been worried sick about you! You know, after the whole disappearing from your bed when we all thought you were unconscious thing." She stopped talking again when she saw Angel come in behind Buffy. This was getting stranger by the moment, and she was suddenly wishing very badly that she was not alone in the shop, or that she was a vengeance demon again, or that Buffy would just stop looking at her like that!

Buffy's eyes glistened darkly as she smiled secretively at the nervous shopkeeper

"Anya," she said quietly, with a mockery of affection in her voice, and the slow, measured pace at which she approached the counter reminded Anya of a tigress. Glancing around the shop appreciatively and then smiling back into Anya's eyes with a dangerous gleam in her own green eyes, Buffy went on.

"It's good to be back."