When the sun went down, Spike moved to the front passenger seat to sit beside Tara, so the two of them could keep each other company as the all-too-short hours passed by. Dawn was drifting in and out of a light sleep, lulled by the constant motion of the van, which was actually running surprisingly well.

Spike offered to drive for a little while, but Tara turned him down. He had been very quiet for most of the ride, and she could see the faint tremor that continually passed through him now. She knew that he was terribly nervous at the moment -- not that she could blame him -- and she thought it would be safer for her to do the driving, no matter how tired she was getting.

And as they neared L.A., Spike's anxiety only grew more obvious.

He hardly said a word for the last hour of the drive, responding to Tara's attempts at casual, cheerful conversation only when he had to, his eyes wide and focused out the window into the darkness. As they passed the sign that read, "Now Entering the City of Los Angeles", Tara glanced at him with concern, noting the convulsive swallow and little wince he gave, as he realized how very near they were to their destination.

Instinctively she reached out to place her hand on his trembling ones, clasped together on his lap. She was surprised -- and touched -- when he gratefully grasped her hand, like a lifeline, clinging to it though he did not turn and look at her.

"Spike," she asked him softly, hesitantly, "are you -- are you sure this is what you want to do? I mean -- you don't seem to want -- you just seem a little..."

"Scared out of my bloody mind?" he suggested when she did not seem able to find the words.

Tara smiled ruefully, with an apologetic little sideways nod. "Yeah," she admitted, her eyes becoming serious as she glanced away from the road to gauge his expression as she spoke. "I mean -- if you don't want to go to Angel..."

"I *don't* want to go to Angel," he confessed flatly, his eyes still staring out the window, his voice trembling slightly. "I just -- I don't have much choice right now. And I know -- I know he'll help."

Tara was quiet for a moment, considering. Based on all she had heard of Angel and his past relationship with Spike, she found that doubtful. "Are you sure?" she asked finally.

"Yeah." There was no hesitation on Spike's part. "He might not want to. He might be a soddin' wanker about it. In fact," he swallowed hard, glancing at her apprehensively as he went on, "he -- he might feel the need to get in a couple of blows of his own, love, after -- what happened the last time I saw him -- you may see -- well, some things you might not like -- but in the end -- he'll help."

"How do you know he will?" she asked, frowning at the thought of Angel trying to hurt Spike, determining that she would not allow that to happen, no matter how normal or natural Spike seemed to think such behavior might be.

Spike was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his words had a sort of simple, profound certainty.

"Because we're family."

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

Angel stalked out of his office, throwing the door open so hard that it slammed into the wall with a loud bang that made all three of his unexpected visitors jump. Though he had expected, even *wanted*, to give Spike a fright, he felt just a bit bad about evoking the same reaction in the two girls with the younger vampire.

In fact, he really had not expected them to be there at all. He had expected Spike to be alone.

It didn't matter.

He struggled to keep a rein on his demon, as a low growl began to resonate in his throat, and he took a couple of slow, measured steps toward the smaller vampire. He knew that there were flecks of gold in his eyes, though he managed with an effort not to change to his game face.

"Spike," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "What, did you decide it was a good night to die?"

Angel felt an unwelcome pang of emotion, as his childe's wide, vulnerable blue eyes fell, and he shrugged slightly, a self-deprecating, painful smile on his trembling lips as he whispered, "Doesn't sound like such a bad plan, actually..."

The soft, flat sound of Spike's voice nearly made Angel wince, and he noticed for the first time the terrible condition his childe was in. Spike's face was bruised and his lip was split, and he was painfully thin. There was a faint scent of blood surrounding him, as that of a wound that had not yet healed, and beneath it, Angel could not mistake the terror and desperation rolling off the younger vampire in waves.

It was fairly safe to say it was not all because of his intimidating presence.

Otherwise, Spike would not have been there at all.

"Spike!" Tara objected, sounding aghast at his comment, and Angel frowned, surprised at the concern he heard in the human girl's voice.

Who was she, anyway?

"Why are you here, Spike?" Angel demanded, moving closer to Spike, who to his credit did not back down, though Angel knew him too well to miss the flash of fear in his eyes at his advance. "You'd better answer me, boy, and I'd better like the answer..."

"I - I need help," Spike replied, his voice shaking slightly, barely over a whisper, his eyes still downcast, and he flinched for the first time as Angel closed the distance between them, pushing him back against the wall beside the door. "P-please...please help me..."

Angel had known that his childe needed help of some kind. Hadn't he been resisting the call to go to his aid? But he had never expected that the younger vampire would actually become desperate enough to come to him. Just the sight of Spike brought back the memories of the torture he had experienced at the hands of Spike's hired expert, and he could feel an automatic anger rising up in him at the thought.

Still, the broken, humbled sound of Spike's voice, the tears that welled in his eyes and choked his stammering words, tore at Angel's heart in a way he did not want to admit to feeling at all.

But he could not help but feel it.

"Why should I help you, Spike?" he demanded, biting off the words, his eyes narrowed in disgust. "Why should I do anything for you, after all you've done?"

"I'm sorry," Spike automatically responded, his eyes downcast, his posture and tone submissive. "I'm sorry, Angel - I just - I've not been doing evil for - for some time now - and - and I don't have anywhere else to go..."

"You tortured me, Spike. No, scratch that. You *hired* someone to torture me, and sat there watching, enjoying the show..."

"Yeah," Spike replied, the faintest ghost of his old smirk rising to his trembling lips as he added, "Guess you were always more of a hands on sort of bloke, yeah?"

Angel nearly flinched at the words, painfully accurate in their subdued accusation. A snarl that he knew was mostly defensive rose up in his throat, and he slammed the younger vampire back against the wall forcefully, demanding, "Watch your mouth, boy, if you want anything from *me*! I'll send you running back the way you came, if you don't..."

"I'm sorry," Spike whispered, his eyes closed, swallowing hard. Angel was struck by the flat tone of resignation to his voice, as if he knew that he had an argument, had the right to *demand* Angel's help - but he knew that doing so would gain him nothing, so he was willing to humble himself if it was what Angel required. He was that desperate. "I'm sorry...please...please help me...Sire..."

It was the "sire" that did it.

Angel felt his resolve crumbling under the force of that word, spoken with such desperate hope, from his childe's lips - and he opened his mouth to relent, his hands already beginning to ease on the lapels of Spike's duster...

...when suddenly he heard a soft female voice at their side speak a single word of Latin, and he was flung violently across the room, against the far wall, by some unseen force that left him on the floor, gasping for the breath the blow had knocked out of him.

When he managed to stagger to his feet, aching from the impact, he looked up in shock to see the young blond woman standing in front of Spike, her arms crossed over her chest as she faced Angel with a defiant look in her blazing grey eyes.

"Don't touch him again," she ordered simply, her voice calm and even, though her intent gaze told Angel that despite her mild tone, she meant business.

As Angel's incredulous eyes took in the young woman - clearly a witch - the younger girl moved slowly and deliberately to stand beside her, looking just as determined to protect Spike, despite the fact that she had not exhibited any special power of her own just yet.

Angel's eyes widened with recognition, and as he tried to steady himself, he asked in confusion, "Hey - aren't you Buffy's sister?"

Dawn's jaw set in a contemptuous expression as she replied grudgingly, "Unfortunately yes."

"Dawn - what are you doing here? And with him? Does Buffy know you're here? And..." His eyes focused on Tara, and he shook his head slowly. "Who are you?"

"Tara," the older girl replied simply. "I'm - I was - I'm Willow's ex-girlfriend?"

"Oh," Angel nodded, relieved to find some semblance of an explanation - then frowned, as he added, "Willow's dating girls now?"

"Willow doesn't matter right now," Tara stated firmly, her bold gaze not leaving Angel's. "What matters right now is that Spike needs your help. Now if you don't want to help him, that's fine, we'll be on our way, but you are *not* going to be pushing him around, because he has had all of that he can take - all of it he's *going* to take, ever again. Is that clear?"

Angel stared at her, taking in her words and her strong tone, silent for a few moments, before he finally asked, "What's going on? What about Buffy? Does she know about - this? Whatever 'this' is?"

Tara glanced at her watch before looking back up at him grimly and replying, "Not yet. Soon, though. Which is why you need to listen to us quickly."

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

"I don't believe it."

Spike felt his heart sink at the words from his sire's mouth - words he had expected, anyway, but had hoped to be able to avoid. He said nothing, not having the emotional strength left to argue his case - especially considering that there was a great part of him that was still convinced that it was all his fault, anyway, and he did not deserve help getting out of it.

"It's the truth, Angel," Dawn insisted, her young voice trembling and desperate. "You have to believe us! She's my sister, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't..."

"Buffy wouldn't do anything like that!" Angel insisted, shaking his head. "Tara, look - I don't know you - I'm sure you're a great person and all that, sure you wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose - but this is all some huge mistake. He's made it up...she wouldn't..."

*Please! Buffy, don't...*

*Shut. Up. You just keep your stupid mouth shut, do you hear me, Spike?*

Spike flinched at the sound of the Slayer's recorded voice, looking up at Tara with startled eyes. He had been so focused on Angel and his reactions to what they were telling him, that he had not seen her take the tape recorder out at all. Now, he wanted to look up at his sire, wanted to gauge his response to what he was hearing - but he found that he could not lift his eyes from the floor, for the powerful shame that overwhelmed him at the voices, the memories, echoing out of the handheld tape recorder.

*No, no, please don't do this!* his own anguished voice cried out on the tape, tearful and terrified. *Don't, Buffy, please! No...*no*!*

He was there again.

He was in that dark room, bound and blindfolded, unable to scream, unable to see, unable to escape...*ever*...he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, as his body was overwhelmed with convulsive shudders of repressed terror...

"Spike..." He heard Tara's voice whisper beside him, and he flinched when he felt someone touch him, only to gratefully surrender as he recognized the feel of her soft, warm arms wrapping around him. "...Sweetie, it's okay...we don't need to hear anymore..."

*Buffy, you wouldn't hurt her...you wouldn't hurt Dawn...*

*Hurt her? I'll kill her, Spike! You'll do what I say - or I'll kill her!*

Spike flinched at the memory of what had followed his submission to that threat, his hand unconsciously rising to cover his nearly healed mouth, as he leaned instinctively closer into Tara's embrace, clinging to her desperately as he shook his head in panicked denial of what he was hearing.

"It's okay," she continued to reassure him gently, "we don't have to hear anymore, Sweetheart..." The tone of Tara's voice told Spike that she was no longer talking to him, as she looked up without taking her arms from around him, and added in a slightly harder, unyielding tone, "Do we?"