A large pile of bricks had taken up residence on Tara's chest. The pressure of Spike's words were immense and sudden. They stole her breath and stabbed her heart.

Buffy?

His hand dropped to his side and eyes that had been so tender and full, looked away and caved in with fear and confusion. He turned away, and raised his arm to his head, and paced backwards.

Tara pushed past the shock that threatened to topple her. There wasn't time for that right now. This was time for blind Scoobying.

As she rushed forward to stand before him, a calm came forth and settled like a balm. You can to do this. You're an Amazon, remember? "Spike. What do you mean? You said Buffy. Is she here? Do you see her?"

Spike continued pacing. Nothing in his demeanor suggested he'd even heard Tara's questions. Instead, he muttered to himself while the leather coat billowed behind him as his steps became more forceful. He was like a frightened animal and pawed away from her questions and cringed.

Her heartbeat thundered furiously in her ears, but Tara managed to focus on Spike's words. After all, they had brought her here. Who knows where they could take her. You have to do this.

"No visitors today, terribly busy."

All Tara knows is that she has to keep him talking. Keep him going. The last thing she can stand is silence again. But trying to guide him through whatever is happening seems impossible as half of what he says in nonsense.

"Nobody comes in here, it's just the three of us."

Despite everything, her voice is level and strong, like an Amazon. "Is Buffy here, Spike? What is she doing? Can you talk to her? Is she hurt? Can you tell her I'm here? Can you tell her where I am?"

He finally snaps, "Don't you think I'm trying! I'm not fast, not a quick study. This is kind of new territory for me. Slayer's going on and on about some bloody zombies who keep yelling at her and attacking and what the hell is she doing here? Christ, what the hell am I doing here?"

Tara's mind whirled. "Zombies? No, Spike, zombies don't speak. They must be manifest spirits raised to seek vengeance. Tell her there m-might be a talisman or something."

"Not ghosts," he says. The events of the past several hours coalesce under Spike's shoes and tongue as Tara watched his crazy antics. That's it. Tara gritted her teeth. I need him, even if he can't do it himself. "Spike! Tell her-" she grabbed his coat and forced him to look at her. "This is important, goddamn it. I don't know what's going on, but I need you to tell her what I said. Ok?"

The steely blue of Spike's eyes bore into Tara's and in an instant she knew the Poet. She knew the man behind the yellow eyes. And somehow, just for a second, she knew everything could be okay