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“Wait a second!” Angel objected quickly, his voice trembling slightly and his eyes wide with alarm as the stunned look on the Slayer’s face shifted before his eyes into a mask of sheer fury. “Buffy – you’ve got this all wrong! I haven’t…”

“Do I?” she countered, standing up from where she sat on the stairs, coming down the last few and stepping past the kneeling blonde vampire to stand in front of Angel – who swiftly rose to his feet when he saw her approaching.

He hoped to be able to convince her that he was telling the truth – but at any rate, he knew that it would be best for him to be on his feet when she reached him, to at least have a chance at defending himself physically – should it come to that.

It was really beginning to look like it might.

“Let’s just do a brief recap, then, shall we?” Buffy went on, giving the larger vampire a rough shove backward – away from Spike. “I go to you for help to find him – and you practically bite my head off and refuse to help…and then for some reason, the very *day* after I find him in that – that torture chamber – you just ‘happen’ to decide that all of a sudden, you wanna do the right thing?”

“Buffy – I should have come sooner, I know – but that doesn’t mean…”

“*Something* sure freaked him out just then! I try to tell you guys to all just back off – but big surprise -- *you* think you know what’s best, better than I do!” Buffy rolled her eyes, and her scathing tone made Angel wince, as she advanced on him, backing him into the living room and away from the trembling, cowering vampire still on his knees behind them.

Once both Angel and Buffy had moved away, Spike began shaking again, whimpering – apparently not daring to move from the position he had assumed, and yet terrified by the angry sounds around him, having no way of knowing what was going on or what to expect.

While both Xander and Riley just stood there near the stairs, watching the confrontation between Buffy and the former love of her life with a certain amount of pleasure in their gleeful expressions, Dawn chose to focus her attention on her friend, as she hurried down the last few steps and knelt beside him, putting her arms around him and gently trying to coax him up out of that awful, subservient position that made her stomach hurt just looking at it.

“Spike,” she whispered, “it’s okay…Buffy’s not gonna let Angel hurt you – I promise…you’re safe, it’s okay, I don’t care what he told you but you don’t have to do this! Come on, Spike, get up…get up, Spike…” she urged him.

But he absolutely refused to move; it was as if she was not even speaking to him. She was relieved to feel him leaning slightly toward her, as if seeking the comfort that she offered – but something had him convinced that he was supposed to be on his face before Angel – and he seemed determined to stay that way, for the moment.

“Buffy,” Angel continued to defend himself the moment that Buffy stopped to take a breath – something that he did not have to do – “you don’t understand. It’s a vampire thing – I’m his sire! Naturally, he’s going to sense my authority…”

“He doesn’t even remember his own *name* for all we know!” Buffy snapped, the rage in her voice clearly not all because of the single incident that had just happened. “If he does, he can’t tell us! He doesn’t remember us from before – how in the world would he react like that to *you* unless you’re the one who’s…”

“I’m not!” Angel insisted, raising his voice in frustration as his back hit the wall beside the couch, and for the first time he became actually a little bit afraid for his safety. “Buffy, I’m his sire! His demon is going to be aware of that in some way, no matter what’s happened! He’s going to sense the authority of the bond, and remember…”

“Remember what?” Buffy cut him off again, and he flinched at the clear threat in her darkened jade eyes as she moved in closer to him menacingly. “Is that how you used to treat him before? When you were his sire? Because if it is…”

“I’m *still* his sire!” Angel suddenly exploded, his game face coming to the forefront as he stepped forward, a challenge in his blazing golden eyes. He didn’t touch Buffy – but she still found herself stumbling back a step or two at his sudden movement. “I always will be his sire! *Nothing* can change that!”

The intensity of his trembling voice, the defensive rage for his childe that, if not sincere, was terribly convincing, halted Buffy’s continued attack, for the moment. She swallowed hard as she fought for control of her own voice, her emotions, before she finally replied in a low, trembling voice of anger and accusation.

“Really? Because I sure thought you felt differently a couple of weeks ago!”

Angel winced slightly at the very deserved condemnation of her words – and his game face slowly faded back into his human guise, as he drew in a deep, settling breath, before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. But I’m here *now* -- and I’m here to help – because he needs me – not to hurt him. I’m not the one that did this to him, Buffy – I didn’t hurt him. I swear it.”

Buffy studied his expression for a long moment, and found herself, almost against her will, desperately wanting to believe him. After all – this was *Angel*…and while she no longer had the feelings for him that she once had, she hated to think that he was capable of committing such horrible acts as had been done to Spike.

*He is,* a traitorous voice in her mind reminded her. *Or at least – he was…*

“Then why did he freak out the second he came downstairs?” she asked – though the question was more troubled and thoughtful than angry and accusing.

Angel shrugged, a grim expression on his face as he looked past her to the terrified blonde vampire, still shaking violently despite Dawn’s attempts to comfort him. “I don’t know,” he replied. Then, his eyes narrowed as he raised his eyes to take in the other two men in the room, where they stood a few yards away.

“But I’m not the only new factor in this equation for Spike, Buffy,” he pointed out – and there was a low, dark edge to his voice that sent a little shiver down her spine, though she knew the emotions she heard there were not directed at her.

She stared up at him suddenly, startled, as she realized what it was that he was suggesting.

“You mean – you think…?”

“Hey,” Xander objected, his eyes wide with surprise, an edge of disgust to his voice at the very idea of what Angel was insinuating. “I’m no friend of Spike’s – we all know that – but I haven’t seen him in months. And if I was gonna do anything at all to him, I’d stake him – not – turn him into a retard or whatever the heck happened to him,” he remarked with a dismissive sort of wave in the direction of the kneeling, whimpering creature.

“Don’t look at me,” Riley snorted when everyone did. “Hey – I just got back in town.”

“And it could be something else entirely,” Angel admitted quietly, though he seemed reluctant to detract from any suspicions she might be developing toward the other two. “I mean – he’s not exactly coherent. We really have no way of knowing *what* it was that set him off.”

Buffy felt as if the breath – and the steam she had been running on during the confrontation with Angel – had just been knocked out of her, as she glanced between the three men in confusion and uncertainty.

Finally, she let out a weary sigh and said quietly, “We’re going to have to sit down – I’ll explain to you guys what’s going on, and we’ll see if we can figure this out. But first – I need to take care of Spike. Everybody just – go. Sit down. In the living room. And – try not to kill each other…”

“Buffy,” Angel began hesitantly. “I can…”

“Just go sit down, Angel,” she cut him off sharply. “I can handle this – and until we know what’s going on here, I think it’s best if you stay out of it.”

Angel opened his mouth as if to protest, but then seemed to think better of it, and forced himself to walk past his childe and into the living room, leaving Spike’s care to Buffy for the moment.

The Slayer knelt at the side of the traumatized vampire, who immediately turned toward her, grasping desperately at her skirt as he rested his head on her knees, sobbing softly with fear and confusion.

“Shhh,” she whispered soothingly, reaching a hand down to gently touch his cheek, while her other hand went to his shoulder in an attempt to push him up to a sitting position, to get him to face her. “Spike – it’s all right – get up, Sweetie. Get up.”

At her gentle command, he flinched slightly – and though she hated to think that he still thought he *had* to do it, just because she had said so…she could not quite bring herself to take the words back. She wanted very badly for him to understand that he was not her prisoner or slave or whatever it was that he had been made to see himself as – but until she could convince him of that, his need to please *did* make certain situations a little easier to deal with.

The sense of guilt she felt at that very thought was overwhelming – but she pushed it back, focusing on Spike and what he needed from her right then.

As he raised tear-soaked, reddened eyes to hers – her breath was nearly stolen away by the stark pain and panic in his gaze, wild and darting around the room, no doubt searching for whatever threat had thrown him into such a panic in the first place.

“It’s all right,” she assured him, gently running her fingers down his cheek in a soothing, repetitive motion which gradually drew his focus back in to her face. “It’s okay, Spike, nobody is going to hurt you. *Nobody* -- I promise. I want you to go upstairs – okay? You and Dawn?”

His immediate glance toward the girl at his other side startled her – and thrilled her – but there was no time to exult in this most recent small sign of progress, not right then.

“Dawn?” she repeated quietly, nodding in a leading manner, pleased when he once more glanced at the younger girl before meeting her eyes again. “Go with Dawn…okay?”

Spike nodded emphatically, and Buffy smiled. It was very clear that leaving the room was exactly what he wanted at that point – to retreat back to the safety of the upstairs bedroom where they had spent the day.

If only she could do the same – but she couldn’t. Not yet.

There was a very important conversation – or three – to be had first.

*********************************

Spike was so terribly confused, utterly terror-stricken, could not seem to think past the panic of recognition that had come over him at the sound of that awful, familiar voice – the one that he had fooled himself into thinking could not find him here, not as long as he was in this warm, safe place – with *her*.

But that voice *had* found him.

In his haste to escape, he only managed to stumble and collapse on the unfamiliar obstacle behind him – the one that the younger girl had wanted him to attempt to manage – and could not hold back the sobs of desperation and despair, at the realization that there was no way he would be able to get away – not before *he* got to him.

The girl had tried to soothe him, her soft voice telling him lies that he knew could not be possible. She could try all she wanted to make him believe that he was safe, that he would not be punished – but as long as that voice was there, in the background as she spoke, there was no way that he could believe it.

And then -- *she* was there, with her arms around him, holding him close to her and reassuring him…and though he did not understand much about his current situation at the moment, there was one thing that he sensed on an instinctive level, through his panic and confusion.

If there was anyone that could protect him from his tormentor – it was her.

He had clung to her, his mind racing in the frantic, useless attempt to find words for his desperation, for the plea he wanted to make for her mercy, her protection.

*Please,* his mind echoed again and again, though he could not make the thought come out in words. *Please, please, don’t let him, don’t let him hurt me, please!*

Her soothing voice as she held him close to her seemed to suggest that she understood.

But then – another voice had entered his hearing – oddly familiar – and full of a power that he could not quite understand – and yet…it *called* to him…

He froze within her embrace, trying to understand…as that soft, powerful voice went on and on…

“*William*…”

Something electrifyingly powerful – some flash of recognition, there only for an instant…and then gone – flew through his mind at the sound of the word that he *knew* -- he just could not remember how…

And suddenly, a new knowledge entered his mind.

This one before him, speaking to him, held the power of life and death over him. Something deep within him recognized the authority in that voice, in the softly spoken command as he was ordered, “Come here…”

And he could do nothing – but to come.

Even as he obeyed, falling at the feet of this new – and yet so very old – power, as he knew was required of him – he felt an anxious uncertainty at the thought of the girl who had been holding him only moments before – the girl who had rescued him from his torment and been so kind to him…

…the girl whose power, whose protective anger he could feel even from here…

And suddenly – he had no idea whose command to obey.

He simply stayed there, trembling, on his face, not daring to move at all, as voices were raised in the sounds of a violent confrontation – and he knew, again instinctively, that whatever they were saying, the battle of wills was over *him*, and his fate.

And he had no idea who he wanted to win.

He simply waited in humble submission – to him – to her – to them both – until the outburst seemed to have passed…and then, she was back, on her knees beside him, drawing him back into her arms.

He had no idea what had happened – all he knew was that he wanted so desperately to be right there, with her – no where else – and was terrified of being taken from her. Still, in spite of that desire, he could feel the powerful pull of the other one, the one whom he sensed should mean so much to him.

And all the while, in the background, the terrifying presence of the one who had broken him so thoroughly.

*Please, please don’t let him take me…please…please…please…*

When she told him to get up, and he knew that she wanted him to look at her, it was all he could do to obey. All he wanted right then was to hide away forever from the confusion, the tearing of his heart between these two desires – but he obeyed.

When she told him to “go with Dawn” glancing as she did at the other girl beside them – his mind made a new connection, between the dark-haired girl staring up at him with concern, and the word that the other girl seemed to use so frequently around her – or rather – to *refer* to her…

It clicked in his mind, like the few other random pieces of information he had managed to put together since being here.

It was her name.

*Dawn*.

He could feel the older girl’s approval at his understanding, and his wounded spirit reveled in the warmth and joy of knowing that he had pleased her. When she asked him again to go with Dawn upstairs, he eagerly agreed, wanting to escape the confusion and terror of the scene, the horrible presence of his enemy – but more than anything, wanting to please *her* again.

Trusting to her judgment, leaving her fate in his hands – Spike obediently followed Dawn up the stairs.