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By the time Xander parked his car outside his apartment building, Angel had already been waiting in the hallway outside his door for five minutes.

He smirked to himself, well aware that the boy would have had no idea that he could have outrun his car, and beat him here.

But he was about to find out.

When Xander started down the hallway toward his apartment, only to see a still-very-angry Angel pacing the hall, waiting for him -- he abruptly changed direction, breaking into a run as he turned the corner to the left in an attempt to avoid the ensouled, but very dangerous, master vampire.

Angel was much too fast for him.

In a matter of moments, he had dragged Xander back down the hallway and held him pinned against his own door, one hand pressed over his mouth to keep him from screaming for help, and simultaneously tilting his head to the side, giving the glistening fangs poised at his throat much easier access.

Golden eyes met fearful yet defiant brown ones for a moment, before Angel withdrew, a cold, predatory smile on his face.

"How's it feel to be helpless, boy?" he snarled menacingly, shifting his hand from Xander's mouth to his throat, squeezing just hard enough to prevent the boy from calling out too loudly, but loosely enough to allow him to respond.

"Buffy's gonna kill you," Xander rasped out, his hatred flashing in his dark eyes. "You can't get away with hurting me, Angel -- she's gonna know it's you -- after that scene at her house -- you can't do this..."
“See, that’s the thing,” Angel sneered quietly, very close to Xander’s face. “Maybe you’ve both pushed me too far tonight – you coming after Spike like that…her refusing to listen to reason about it...maybe I don’t *care* what Buffy wants anymore!”

“Yeah,” Xander laughed defiantly, though his dark eyes flashed with fear as the vampire tightened his grip on his throat just slightly. “You really expect me to believe that? You and Spike are both the same – you’ll *always* be obsessed with Buffy, no matter what happens!”

“Then I guess that makes us three of a kind – doesn’t it, boy?”

Xander was struck silent by that comment, a trapped sort of expression in his dark eyes as they suddenly met the gleaming golden gaze of the vampire.

“What? You thought I didn’t notice?” Angel smirked, but his eyes were flashing fury. “It’s obvious – and the same way I could smell Spike all over you – knew you’d been with him, and you’d scared him to a second death – I know what you’re thinking every single time you’re around Buffy, too!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Xander insisted, struggling uselessly in the stronger man’s grip. “Buffy’s my friend – that’s all…”

“Damn right, that’s all!” Angel snarled. “And you’d better get that through your head, boy, before someone else gets hurt! What’s gonna happen when you decide that she’s spending too much time with someone else? If she starts dating someone – or heck, if she starts spending too much time with *Dawn*? You gonna try to take them out of the picture, too?”

“Of course not!” Xander retorted, his eyes widening with horror. “I’d *never* hurt Dawnie – and Buffy has the right to be with anybody she wants to…”

“You say it,” Angel shook his head, a tight smile on his lips, though his eyes were deadly serious. “But I really don’t think you mean it…”

“I do!” Xander insisted. “And besides, Spike was already out of the picture by the time…” His words cut off abruptly as he realized what he had almost said, and he looked back up at Angel, a trapped expression in his dark eyes.

“By the time what?” Angel demanded, latching onto the slip and refusing to let it go. “By the time you did what, Xander?”

“Nothing!” Xander’s voice was higher than usual now, and shaking slightly as he answered in a defensive tone. “I didn’t do anything, Angel! You’re wrong!”

Angel’s eyes narrowed with furious frustration, and he released the boy – only to draw back his fist and slam it down across Xander’s face, knocking his head back against the wall. The boy crumpled to the floor with a groan, his head lolling slightly as he struggled to remain conscious – and then, weakly, to pull himself back to his feet.

“Need some help with that, lad?” Angel asked him with a false cheer, his voice slipping just slightly into a long lost accent, as he reached down and dragged Xander back to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

It was just the slightest edge of an accent – but it set off an alarm in Angel’s mind, a quiet warning of just how close he was to losing control completely. Suddenly he wondered – was a single moment of happiness the *only* thing that could cause him to lose his soul? Because at the moment, blinding rage seemed to be bringing him very close.

Or perhaps – he had just never realized just how badly he could want to hurt someone – to *torture* them – to literally tear their weak, human body to pieces with his bare hands and fangs…and still have his soul intact.

“Let me go,” Xander slurred, shaking his head slightly as he gradually regained his senses from the powerful blow. “I’m gonna…”

“What?” Angel sneered. “What are you gonna do, Xander? A whole lot of nothing, boy, ‘cause that’s all you’re capable of at the moment!” His voice softened, taking on a chilling menace, as he leaned in closer and snarled, “You’re not dealing with a broken, brain damaged vampire now, boy – and I *don’t* have a chip in my head – so what. Are you going. To *do*?”

Xander flinched slightly at the dark threat in Angel’s words, but did not respond, his eyes darting to the sides as if looking for some means of escape.

“Maybe I should take you back down to those caves where Buffy found Spike. You know – the ones you’d already managed to scrub clean by the time I got there?” Angel’s dark gaze was piercing, finding things in Xander’s expression that the young man had thought were well-hidden. “You know – Lysol *does* eliminate 99.9% of odors -- *if* you happen to be human!”

Again, Xander had no response, his eyes widening further as he realized that there really was no way that he could have completely concealed his involvement in what had happened to Spike – not from Angel, who could smell even the faintest traces of scent left behind.

“You were there. And so was he. He was terrified – and you,” Angel’s voice darkened, lowered and trembling with outraged fury, as he finished dangerously, “you were getting off on it.”

“No,” Xander objected, shaking his head desperately. “You’re wrong…I wasn’t…”

“Quit *lying* to me, boy!” Angel practically roared, losing the fragile grip he held on his anger and slamming Xander forcefully against the wall behind him, eliciting a groan of pain from his lips.

Unfortunately, that was not the only reaction that Angel’s momentary loss of temper drew.

The door to an apartment a few yards down the hall opened abruptly, a middle aged man in a ragged blue bathrobe stepping out into the hallway, already complaining as he did.

“Keep it down out here! People are trying to…”

His voice broke off suddenly, his eyes widening with fear as he took in the monster that was pinning the young man to the wall a few yards down -- and as he watched, golden glowing eyes turned on him over wickedly grinning fangs...only the creature wasn't grinning....

He was growling.

"I'm calling security!" the man yelped, backpedalling toward his door again, wide eyes locked onto the surreal scene in the hallway. "No -- the police -- I'm calling the police!" he warned them, the door to his apartment slamming behind him, followed by the audible clicks of a lock and a deadbolt.

Angel barely had time to register the fact that he was going to have to either wrap things up, or take Xander elsewhere, before the police showed up – before Xander was suddenly tumbling backward, through the front door of his apartment, which he had managed to get open while Angel was distracted by his now very freaked out neighbor.

With a snarl of frustration, Angel slammed his fist against the invisible barrier that kept him from going after the nervously laughing young man, staggering to his feet with gleeful triumph in his dark eyes.

“No invite for you, Deadboy! Go push somebody else around!” Xander crowed – but he still took a hasty step backward when Angel let out an animalistic roar of rage, slamming both fists against the barrier again, as if he could break it down by sheer force of will.

Which of course – he could not.

“Fine!” Angel snarled. “Stay in there! I don’t care if you *never* come out of there! But I’m warning you, whatever you do – you stay *away* from my childe, boy! Do you hear me? If I see you – hear of you -- *smell* you anywhere near Spike, ever again, Xander – I’m gonna rip you apart, boy. Very – very -- *slowly*, do you understand me?”

“Don’t you think you ought to get out of here?” Xander smirked, not even acknowledging his threats – though Angel took a small amount of satisfaction from the fact that the boy was still wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean – the police will be here any minute…and unless you wanna have to hurt a human…though, gotta say, that probably wouldn’t bother you much right now…”

“Not if it’s you,” Angel replied without hesitation, through teeth gritted with frustration.

“Who knows, we might even get lucky. If the cops have any idea of what a threat you really are – you might just get to experience a gunshot to the head yourself – see what it’s like for poor little Spike,” Xander sneered, an exaggerated pout of false sympathy on his face, though his eyes were dancing with cruel laughter.

Angel couldn’t help one more useless attempt to get at the boy, although the barrier, of course, held firm.

“I meant what I said, Xander,” he ground out the words, his voice low and dark and filled with the frustration of not being able to make the boy pay for his pitiless mockery of his childe – for *everything* he had done to his childe. “Don’t come near Spike. Ever. If you do – I *will* kill you.”

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

When Spike awakened the next morning, there was a blissful few seconds in which all he was aware of was the warmth and closeness of his two protectors – Dawn on the one side, and Buffy on the other – surrounding him with a sense of safety and affection, making him feel as if all was right in his world, and nothing could harm him.

Until a slight shift of his head pulled at the bandage on the back of it, causing a twinge of pain which was really not that bad – but served to remind him of the truth.

*Nothing* was right.

And his tormentor definitely *could* harm him.

He glanced to the side at Buffy, wondering how long he had before he had to take up the act again, pretend to her that he was okay – relatively speaking – and found to his dismay that he had no time at all.

She was awake, and gazing at him with a warm, sleepy smile of tender concern.

“Good morning, Spike,” she murmured, just the hint of a frown creasing her brow as she raised a hand to stroke down his taut, fearful face. “You okay, Sweetie?”

Spike nodded, his wide eyes focused on hers, much more solemn than he wanted them to be.

“You sure?” she asked him gently.

He nodded again automatically, though he knew that he could not be in the least bit convincing. Buffy studied his expression thoughtfully for a long moment – and then, apparently, decided to let it go for the moment.

“Okay,” she whispered, touching her lips to his brow in a gentle show of affection that sent a little thrill through him, despite his fears. “You hungry?”

Finally – a question that he could answer honestly.

He nodded again, more enthusiastically, as he felt Dawn begin to stir on his other side.

Buffy laughed quietly, as she rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, gaining her first-thing-in-the-morning bearings before getting up to go prepare breakfast for all of them.

“You wanna come downstairs with me, or you wanna stay here and rest some more?” she asked him over her shoulder, as she rose from the bed and pulled her soft, bright pink robe on over her pajamas.

Although by now, Spike understood most of the words she had spoken – understood most of what she said most of the time, actually, at least enough to get by – he did not respond at first.

He was simply not used to being given an option.

Also – he had no idea which option he wanted.

He wanted to be near Buffy; even though she had failed to protect him from her friend, not knowing that he was the one who had hurt him to begin with – he knew that she was very powerful, and she seemed to genuinely care for him, at least a little. But, if he did go downstairs with her, he would have to be careful so as not to do anything to arouse her suspicions, as he had done last night.

He was so very stupid, he thought with a sense of shame, just as Xander had said; he did not seem to be able to keep up a convincing act for long.

But he *had* to – the lives of the girls depended on it.

Just – not yet.

“Rest,” he replied softly, his voice quiet and hesitant, as he suddenly wondered what *Buffy* would have preferred that he do. “Please? Please rest?”

Buffy turned to face him, her expression softening with compassion at the anxious uncertainty in his voice. “Of course, Spike, that’s fine…you just rest a little while longer, I’ll come get you when your breakfast is ready.”

It was a strange combination of emotions – the relaxing sensation of relief as she walked out the bedroom door, combined with the desire to follow after her, or plead with her not to go.

He wanted to be with her – and yet he was terrified to be, afraid of giving some vital something away.

A few minutes after Buffy left the room, Dawn woke up. After giving Spike a warm greeting, she excused herself to her own room to get dressed, leaving him in quiet solitude, which would have actually been nice, for a change – had it not given his increasingly capable (if still a bit weak) mind that much more time to build upon the fears circling through it, shark-like, devouring any shred of hope he might dare to cling to.

But as he lay there, thinking about the situation he found himself in now – the events of the night before, and Buffy’s reaction to what little she knew – he began to form the beginnings of a fledgling plan in his mind.

He just had to hide his fear, when Xander was around – treat him just as he treated Buffy, or Dawn, or the older man that Buffy had said was a friend – the one who had yelled at him and frightened him, but actually seemed to be all right, now that he was used to him. If he made no difference in the way he behaved around Xander, then there was no way that Buffy could guess the truth about her friend…

…and no reason for the boy to hurt her or Dawn.

But apparently – Xander didn’t *need* a reason to hurt *him*.

*Just stay close to Buffy,* Spike thought, as he felt the tremors building in his stomach at the sickeningly dreadful thought of having to be alone with Xander again. *He won’t hurt you in front of her – he doesn’t want her to know – just stay close – and no one will ever have to know – and you’ll be safe – and *they’ll* be safe…it’ll be okay…*

He had almost managed to convince himself that Dawn and Buffy and the secret protecting them were all safe, when Dawn returned to the room – fully dressed, but with a troubled expression on her face, as she sat back down on the edge of the bed, and faced him full on, her wide blue eyes searching his with apprehension.

“Spike,” she said softly, her knowing, heavy tone sending a fresh wave of sick fear through him, “is there something you want to tell me?”