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“I wonder what that was all about,” Buffy murmured slowly, her eyes and tone troubled as she gazed up the stairs at the place where Spike and Dawn had disappeared from sight.

“Well, I should think it’s rather obvious,” Giles remarked, and two sets of eyes focused on his – one with concerned interest, and the other with barely concealed fear and suspicion – though neither of the other two seemed to notice, as Giles was focused on Buffy, and Buffy on Giles.

“It is?” Buffy prompted, frowning, still confused.

Xander said nothing, just swallowed hard and stared at the Watcher, waiting for his explanation.

“Of course. He’s been through a traumatic ordeal, from what you’ve described to me, Buffy. Held captive and tortured by the only person in his world, until only two days ago – and a person that he’s never seen before, at that. All he has to go by to remember the person who held him captive is scent, and voice…and both the scent and voice of any man are going to be quite obviously different from those of a woman – and in some ways, similar to those of any other man,” Giles explained his position, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Which would explain why he was basically okay with me, and Dawn right away – but totally freaked out when he came downstairs the other night to a living room full of guy voice and guy smell. No offense, Xan,” she added as an afterthought, not quite meeting her friend’s eyes.

She wasn’t really sure why she felt the need to *not* mention Anya’s involvement – but she did.

That did not mean that she was exactly comfortable with keeping that secret from her best friend.

“None taken,” he replied easily, sitting down on the sofa in the spot where Spike had sat, releasing a heavy sigh that was not obviously a sound of relief. “So – it’s not just me then…’cause that would be a little – um, disturbing.”

“No,” Buffy reassured him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “He reacted almost the same way to Giles when he came in yesterday.”

“Okay,” Xander accepted her words, this time with obvious relief. “Man, Buff,” he added, shaking his head as he met her eyes with compassion. “Looks like you’ve really got your hands full.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she countered with a sad little laugh.

“Look,” Xander began again, a bit reluctantly, “I think maybe I was – a little unreasonable the other day. I mean – I’ve never really trusted Spike – never really had a reason to – and you know how I feel about – well, about your history with him. But…this is different. *He’s* different now – you know?”

“I *really* do,” Buffy replied without hesitation, her eyes wide and solemn as they focused on the coffee table in front of her, her mind replaying the image of Spike when she had found him in the cave, over and over again.

“So – I can see why you feel the need to – look after him, you know? I mean – all things considered…” Xander continued.

There was a moment of awkward silence, all three of them well aware of just what “all things” Xander was talking about, though he hadn’t specifically said that he was referring to the secret relationship that had left such a dramatic mark on Buffy’s first year of life after her death.

“Well, anyway – I guess what I’m trying to say is – if you need my help, I’m here, Buffy,” Xander finally finished, meeting her eyes with his own chocolate brown gaze full of sincerity and compassion. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do…keep Dawn occupied every now and then, or – or give you a break once in a while…you know, once he’s not scared to death every time he sees me – or smells me – or whatever.”

“Thanks, Xander,” Buffy gave him a smile that was both apologetic and appreciative at once, as she sighed wearily, leaning her head against the back of the couch and raising her arms to press her palms against her eyes. “I appreciate that. Though, I have to say, the way things went today, it’ll probably be a while before that’s a possibility.”

“I know,” he replied quietly. “I’m relieved that it’s not just me that he reacts to like that – and at the same time, I feel a little guilty for feeling relieved,” he admitted with a sheepish little smile. “Just let me know though; I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I must say,” Giles spoke up suddenly, a pensive frown on his face. “Although Spike does seem a bit skittish around *all* males – something *did* seem a bit different about his reaction today – don’t you think so, Buffy?”

Buffy nodded slowly, a bit ruefully, as if she had been thinking the same thing but had not really wanted to bring it up. “Yeah. This was – worse. And yesterday, you were all threatening him and in his face and everything…and it *still* wasn’t this bad…”

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell over the room, each of the three in their own private thoughts, though only one of them even considered the true explanation for what Giles had pointed out.

After a few moments, Xander spoke up again, his tone reluctant. “Um, Buffy – I really hate to bring this up, but I just had a thought.”

“What kind of thought?” Buffy asked, one eyebrow raised as she looked up to study her friend’s face. “Because if it has anything to do with ‘putting Spike out of his misery’ you’d best keep that thought to yourself!”

“No, no,” Xander objected, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. I just – I had a thought as to why Spike might have reacted like he just did. I mean – you saw the way he reacted to Angel the other night – all freaked out and bowing at his feet and everything?”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy replied slowly, cautiously, suddenly sure that she was not going to like what her friend had to say. “But Angel said…”

“Just – hear me out,” Xander broke in again with quiet urgency, holding up a hand in a request for silence. “Vampires have this like, freaky good sense of smell, right? Like they can smell if you’ve been around someone recently, stuff like that?”

“Yes,” Giles nodded thoughtfully, giving the boy a questioning look.

“Well – I bet you’ll never guess who I ran into on my way over here…”

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

Dawn did not have the first idea what to do to help her friend.

Spike had dutifully followed her up the stairs to Buffy’s room, clinging to her hand the whole way – but once they had reached the room, the moment Dawn had turned her back to firmly shut the door, Spike had released her hand, moving away from her.

When she had turned back around to find him, her eyes widened with dismay, at the sight of the terrified, desperate vampire, huddled on the far side of the bed, on the floor against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, shaking and sobbing softly.

Silently, Dawn crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside him, putting her arm around him and nestling in close to him, when he resisted her gentle attempts to pull him to her side. He did not respond to her touch at all, just kept crying, his entire body shaking violently as he apparently tried to hide within himself, closing himself away from her as much as he could.

“Spike – it’s okay. You’re safe here – it’s all right,” she repeated the reassuring words that seemed automatic to her by now, her fingers rising to run through his hair in a gesture of affection and comfort. “Buffy and me – we won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, her soft voice earnest and determined. “No matter what.”

Spike finally raised his red, tear-filled eyes to hers, full of an unspeakable anguish and hopelessness, as he just shook his head, unable to find the words to explain to her why the words that had been so comforting before, now meant nothing to him.

“What, Spike?” she pressed him urgently. “What is it? What are you so afraid of?”

*Stupid question, Dawnie,* she thought immediately, cringing slightly at her own thoughtlessness.

But this *was* different; she was not imagining that. Something had freaked Spike out, badly – beyond the general sort of fear she had seen in him over the past few days. The trembling vampire stared up at her, panic and confusion evident in his eyes, and she wondered for a moment if *he* even understood what it was that had thrown him into such a fit of terror.

Then, Spike just shook his head, lowering it back to rest on his knees, despair in every aspect of his expression, his demeanor – as if to say that he knew there was no way he could ever make her understand.

“Spike,” Dawn insisted, moving around to face him and placing her hands gently but firmly on his knees, trying to gain his attention, “you can tell me. *Anything*. Please tell me, Spike – what happened down there?”

“C-can’t,” he finally sobbed out a response, without looking up – though one thin, trembling hand reached out to clutch hers desperately. “H-hurt – can’t t-tell…”

“Wait -- *what*?” Dawn gasped, her eyes widening as she reached her free hand up to his face, tilting it slightly up toward hers. “Spike – no! No one’s gonna hurt you if you tell us what happened! I don’t know what that creep did to you, but we’re not going to hurt you just for telling us why you’re feeling this way! You can tell me and Buffy anything – you have to know that! We would *never* hurt you!”

Spike looked up at her suddenly, confused and startled by her words – before understanding dawned in his eyes, as he realized her mistake. “No,” he whispered, the misery of loneliness and utter hopelessness in his eyes, before he looked away again. “Not – not you. Not Buffy. Bad – h-hurt – me…”

Dawn’s chest hurt, a physical ache in her heart that brought tears to her eyes, at the pain and terror in those deep, tearful blue eyes – and the fact that she had no idea how to ease it. “Spike – I’m sorry – I don’t understand. I’m not going to hurt you. *No one* is going to hurt you! You’re not bad, Spike, you’re *not*! You have to stop thinking that you’re…”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head in obvious frustration, though he did not raise it from his knees. “N-not me…”

At that moment, the door to the bedroom opened, and Spike flinched at the sudden sound, the bright light that flooded the room from the hallway, looking up with panicked eyes to see who had entered his place of fragile safety.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dawn soothed him, looking up to the doorway, and then back at his face with an attempt at a reassuring smile. “It’s just Buffy – Buffy’s here, Spike…”

What neither girl could know was that due to an apparently impulsive – and very touching – supportive hug Xander had given Buffy on her way up the stairs – she was covered in the scent of Spike’s torturer – an instantaneous reminder to the vampire of just how close his savior was to his abuser.

Any thoughts Spike had momentarily entertained of telling them everything, in spite of Xander’s silent threats, immediately vanished in a fresh flood of panic.

“Spike? Honey, what…?” Buffy hurried to his side, crouching down in front of him, surprised and dismayed to see him still so very frightened. She had assumed that once he was upstairs, alone with Dawn, he would quickly calm down.

She was even more startled and dismayed when he shrank back away from her in fear, with a soft pleading whimper.

“D-don’t – don’t…” he sobbed, flinching when she reached out to touch his arm – and her hand froze, inches away from his shaking body. “Please…don’t…touch…don’t…”

Buffy swallowed back her hurt and surprise, glancing up at her sister in bewilderment – but Dawn seemed just as dumbfounded by Spike’s unexpected behavior. Buffy slowly stood up, staring down at the terrified vampire, unsure how to react. All she had wanted was to take him in her arms, to do as she had done for two nights now, and hold him in her arms until the tears and trembling faded away into comfort.

But every instinct told her that at this moment, for some inexplicable reason, her comfort would appear as a threat to Spike – so she did not make any further move to touch him.

“I won’t, Spike,” she promised him softly. “I won’t touch you, if you don’t want me to.”

“Buffy…” Dawn looked up at her with sympathy in her crystal blue eyes, shaking her head, her mouth open to offer some reassurance that at the moment, Buffy *really* did not want to hear.

“Don’t worry about it, Dawnie,” she cut her off gently, forcing a weak smile. “I – I have to go, anyway…”

“Go?” Dawn echoed in disbelief. “Go where?”

“There’s someone I need to talk to,” Buffy answered vaguely, but the slight hardening of her expression told Dawn that whatever conversation she was going to have was definitely related to what had happened to Spike. “Giles and Xander are going to stay – downstairs. They won’t bother you two; they’ll just be here – you know, just in case…”

Dawn nodded, satisfied with that arrangement. Neither Giles nor Xander made her feel quite as safe as her sister did, but they were the next best thing to a father and a brother to both girls, and she felt much better knowing that they would be there, if Buffy would not.

Amidst his desperate sobs, neither girl noticed the slight hitching of Spike’s breath, the way his body went still for a moment, though he did not raise his head or make a sound.

As Buffy turned to walk out the bedroom door, Dawn’s clear, slightly higher than usual voice stopped her in her tracks. “Buffy?”

“Yes.” The Slayer’s voice was barely audible, thick with unshed tears, and she did not turn around.

“Whoever you’re going to talk to – if he did this…” Dawn began, her youthful voice soft and earnest – and full of a deadly chill. “…don’t kill him too quickly.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, though she still did not turn around – and the shock of Dawn’s words was fleeting. After all, especially at this moment, with Spike’s quiet, desperate sobs still audible behind her – she understood her little sister’s sentiments perfectly. They were only an echo of her own feelings.

“Don’t worry,” she assured her sister flatly. “I won’t.”

And with those coldly spoken words, she was out the door, and out of the house in the next few moments – headed across town toward the place where Xander had told her she would find the person she sought.

And as she made her way across town, intent on finding out who was responsible for the wreckage that had been made of her former lover, Buffy was completely unaware that in her upstairs bedroom, the fragile heart of said former lover shattered just a bit more with her exit.

The scent that surrounded her had made him sure that had she touched him right in that moment, he would have been physically sick. He could not bear the thought of havin that scent on his own body again, a physical reminder of the torments he had been through.

But that did not mean that he wanted her gone – especially not with his tormentor in the house.

And as the Slayer abruptly walked out, Spike was firmly convinced that once again he had done something wrong, had driven her away with his tears, his panic, caused her to walk away from him, leaving him here at the mercy of his enemy.

And despite Dawn’s best efforts to soothe him – his bitter tears of heartache and despair flowed on, as the Slayer made her way out her front door, and across town into the night.