She was working on an old set of remains in a dimly lit hallway. There was nothing but a stainless steel table and the set of bones. Sensing someone standing behind her, she turned around.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed."You are supposed to be in prison."

"I will always be where you are," said Heather Taffet, otherwise known as the Gravedigger.

"What do you want?" she demanded. Heather pulled a gun.

"I want to hurt you, Dr. Brennan," she said. "I want you to suffer for putting me behind bars." At this Brennan felt herself laugh.

"You want to hurt me by killing me?" Brennan heard herself say. "That is stupid, but go ahead. You'd be doing me a favor." She was taunting the killer.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you Dr. Brennan," Taffet said with a sneer. "I know you would gladly die. After all, what do you have worth living for?" Then she laughed, "You have nothing and no one, so I'd rather let you live in your misery, but I know that there is someone I can kill who has a lot to lose. Someone you care about more than yourself, someone you need who doesn't even want you. Won't it be fun to tell him that you are the cause of his untimely death?" When she said this, she pulled Booth out of the shadows.

"Booth!" Brennan exclaimed. "No! Please, take me! I have nothing left to live for, you said it yourself! Take me! Take me!"

"I'm not in the mood to be doing you any favors, Dr. Brennan," Taffet said.

"Then don't do it for me," Brennan said. She forced herself to think rationally. "Do it for yourself. You value your freedom, don't you?"

"Yes," Taffet said hesitantly.

"Well, I am the only one who would be able to put you back in jail," she reasoned. "And when I'm…dead…the case will go cold," she continued. "As you said, Booth doesn't care for me. It will be nothing to him if I'm gone, right Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones. I wouldn't care if you were gone," he said. Then he smiled that charm smile.

She felt her heart rip in two, but she couldn't let Taffet see that. Forcing a harsh laugh to cover her sob, she smiled and said,

"You see? So why don't you take me wherever you want and just leave Booth alone?"

Heather seemed to consider for a moment before shoving Booth harshly to the ground. Then she lashed out at Brennan. Suddenly, she was bound and inside a wooden box. Heather Taffet's face appeared above her.

"Sleep well, Dr. Brennan."

Then she began to cover her with dirt.

"No! No! No!" Brennan screamed over and over. But as more dirt fell atop her, she couldn't get the words out. Suddenly, everything was black. She could no longer speak—she couldn't make a sound at all—and all was black. No matter what she did, she couldn't rise from that black place.

XXXXXXXXXX

Angela walked Brennan's room and saw her thrashing around, but not making a sound.

What do I do? What's happening?

Angela had no idea what was going on; she didn't know what her friend could possibly be dreaming about; and she didn't know what to do. She needed help, and there was only one person who would know what was going on and how to stop it.

Booth.

As much as it killed her to even think of talking to him—much less ask him for a favor—she knew that if it would help her friend, she would do it. Taking out her phone, she dialed his number.

It rang, rang, rang, rang, and rang. After the fifth ring, he picked up.

"Look, Angela," he said in a tired voice, "I know I screwed up, I know you hate me, and I know I deserve it. I know it is tomorrow, but please, could you leave the yelling until a natural hour? What time is it anyway?"

"No, you look Booth," Angela said in a hard voice, "when I talk to you tomorrow, believe me I will yell at you, and we will pretend that this conversation never happened. But right now, as much as it just galls me to admit, I need your help. And I'm in a bit of a rush, so if you could just tell me what to do I'd be grateful."

There was silence on the other side of the line for just a moment before he said,

"Alright. What do you need?"

"Brennan was yelling in her sleep and then she got all quiet. Now she's just thrashing around and she won't wake up. I don't know what to do, Booth. She looks really bad." Booth's response was immediate.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right there."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ring! Ring!

Booth started awake. Was it morning already? He glanced at the clock.

Nope, he thought, not morning.

Ring! Ring!

It was his phone. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed.

Why can't she just wait until morning?

"Look, Angela," he said in a tired voice, "I know I screwed up, I know you hate me, and I know I deserve it. I know it is tomorrow, but please, could you leave the yelling until a natural hour? What time is it anyway?"

He really wasn't awake enough to take the thrashing he knew was coming his way.

"No, you look Booth," Angela said in a hard voice, "when I talk to you tomorrow, believe me I will yell at you, and we will pretend that this conversation never happened. But right now, as much as it just galls me to admit, I need your help. And I'm in a bit of a rush, so if you could just tell me what to do I'd be grateful."

He was too tired to argue.

"Alright. What do you need?"

"Brennan was yelling in her sleep and then she got all quiet. Now she's just thrashing around and she won't wake up. I don't know what to do, Booth. She looks really bad."

Immediately Booth was awake.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right there," he said as he jumped out of bed.

"Booth!" Angela yelled through the phone. "I highly doubt that you being here would help anything at all." That stopped him in his tracks. She was quite for a moment. "Just…just tell me what I can do."

She's right, he thought. My being there would just make it worse. I'm probably the cause anyway.

He sighed and sat back down on his bead. Instead of heading straight to his partner's apartment, he just asked,

"What was she saying?"

"Well, she kept yelling 'No! Take me…nothing left…take me! No! No! No!' It was terrible Booth. And now she won't wake up and she's thrashing as if she's trying to dig her way out of something."

Booth understood at once, but the horror of it kept stole his voice.

"Booth?" Angela called. "Are you still there?"

"What? Yeah, I'm here," he said shaking himself out of it. "She's—Angela, she's having a gravedigger nightmare."

"What?" Angela asked. "I—I thought that hadn't…I mean, she never said…but she wouldn't would she?" Then she paused and collected herself. "But none of that matters right now. You know her the best. What do I do?"

"You have to go to her, grab her wrists, and pull her up into a sitting position," he said. "After that, just hold her and assure her that I'm alive."

"What do you mean—"Angela started.

"Just trust me. She's had these nightmares many times—I have too for that matter—so I know what to do," he said. "Go to her now. Please call me and let me know when she's ok."

For a moment she hesitated.

"Okay," she relented. "And Booth?"

"Yeah?" Booth said tiredly.

"Um…thanks I guess. For this, not anything else," she said.

"Just let me know when she's ok," he said.

"I will," Angela promised. Then she hung up.

XXXXXXXXXX

There was genuine concern and terror in his voice and, as much as she hated to admit it, she could tell that he still cared for Brennan. This was not foremost in her mind, however. She was more concerned about the terror in his voice.

"Just…just tell me what I can do," Angela said.

I need to know. I have to help her. I just…I need to know how to help her.

He sighed and seemed to be calmer when he asked,

"What was she saying?"

"Well, she kept yelling 'No! Take me…nothing left…take me! No! No! No!' It was terrible Booth. And now she won't wake up and she's thrashing as if she's trying to dig her way out of something."

Booth didn't answer for a long moment and Angela began to worry that he had hung up and was on his way over.

"Booth?" Angela called into the phone. "Are you still there?"

"What? Yeah, I'm here," he said sounding out of it. "She's—Angela, she's having a gravedigger nightmare."

"What?" Angela asked. Jack used to get those, but I never realized… "I—I thought that hadn't…I mean, she never said…but she wouldn't would she?" Then she paused and collected herself. She had to think about her friend. That was what mattered at the moment. "But none of that matters right now. You know her the best. What do I do?"

"You have to go to her, grab her wrists, and pull her up into a sitting position," he said. "After that, just hold her and assure her that I'm alive."

What in the world? Assure her that Booth is alive?

"What do you mean—"Angela started. The arrogant…

"Just trust me. She's had these nightmares many times—I have too for that matter—so I know what to do," he said. "Go to her now, she needs you. Please call me and let me know when she's ok."

For a moment she hesitated. She wasn't feeling particularly charitable toward Booth at the moment. Why should she have to call him to let him know that she was ok? It was his fault that she was in this situation. But he was also helping her, and she could tell he was genuinely concerned about Brennan.

"Okay," she relented. "And Booth?"

"Yeah?" Booth said tiredly.

"Um…thanks I guess. For this, not anything else," she said.

"Just let me know when she's ok," he said.

"I will," Angela promised. Then she hung up.

Walking back into Brennan's room, she knew what she had to do.

XXXXXXXXXX

The weight was getting heavier. No matter what she did, she couldn't get out. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make a sound. She was trapped. She was going to die here—and she was terrified. She didn't want to die like this—like Lauren. She wasn't Lauren.

I'm not Lauren, she thought. But wasn't she?

Suddenly two strong hands grasped her wrists and pulled her up.

The darkness retreated and Brennan awoke with a start. She saw Angela's worried face looking down at her.

"Booth," she choked out, breathless. "Where is he? Is he ok? Did he…did he get away?" She tried to jump up but Angela held her tight. "Angela!" she said exasperatedly, "I have to make sure Booth got away and back to Hannah! She had him…I think she let him go…"

"Bren," Angela interrupted, "he's ok. I just got off the phone with him. He's ok."

Brennan couldn't understand her words. How could Booth have gotten to a phone so fast? Why would he even bother to call Angela? He said he wouldn't care if I died, just as long as I was out of his…what does Booth say?...hair I think. What's going on?

"Ange," Brennan looked up at her, "why did Booth call you?"

"He didn't," she said. "I called him. You were having a nightmare."

Slowly, Brennan processed the new information.

So, Angela called Booth. That makes more sense. However, was it all really a nightmare? Yes, that would be most logical. Heather Taffet is still in jail, I'm in my home not in a coffin, and Booth…

She stopped there as she remembered that that part hadn't just been a nightmare.