Not waiting for Angel's approval, Tara had reached over and turned off the tape recorder already, and the older vampire's trembling, angry voice sounded very loud in the stillness that followed. Spike was still cradled in the arms of Tara, who was seated beside him, his body bent forward until his head was nearly in her lap, as his body was shaken by sobs too deep for sound.

"I want to talk to Spike alone."

A moment of startled quiet followed his announcement, both girls staring up at him in suspicious disbelief.

"Um -- *that's* so not gonna happen," Dawn finally declared, her voice calm, but her eyes flashing with protective fury as she glared at the dark vampire. "He's been through enough! Do you actually think we would let you...?"

"I'll do it."

Spike's voice was hoarse with his tears, barely audible over Dawn's protest; and both Tara and Dawn turned their wide, incredulous eyes on him instead. Angel nodded once, solemnly, his dark eyes focused on his childe, studying his expression -- still apparently searching for any sign of deceit.

"Spike...Spike, are you sure?" Tara asked him, one gentle hand turning his face toward her, searching his eyes herself. "You don't have to...not if you don't want to, Sweetheart. If Angel doesn't want to help us -- we can just move on..."

"I didn't say I don't want to help," Angel snapped, a bit impatiently, his eyes never leaving Spike's tear-stained face. "I just said I would like to talk to Spike alone."

"Why, so you can hurt him again?" Dawn demanded, standing up on trembling legs, glaring at him defiantly. "We saw how you treated him when we walked through that door! Do you really think we're going to let you get away with hurting him again?"

"I'm not going to hurt him," Angel ground out the words through clenched teeth, obviously barely restraining his own anger. "I just want to talk to him before I decide anything."

"And what if you *decide* that instead of helping you just wanna take Buffy's side?" Tara pointed out the possibility, an expression of wary uncertainty on her face. "What if you change your mind once you get Spike alone, and..."

"I said I'll do it!" Spike broke in, his voice suddenly loud as he cut his friend off, though it was still trembling dangerously, as he looked around the room at the three who were arguing so vigorously over his fate. As they all fell silent, waiting, Spike swallowed hard, drawing in a deep breath, before he went on. "I may have spent the last few weeks -- without much of a choice about anything -- but this is still *my* decision, in'nit?"

Tara was the first to find her voice following his outburst, as she nodded slowly and cautiously agreed, "Of course it is, Spike. We just -- wanna be sure that you're safe..."

"Well, I'm *not* bloody safe, am I?" he reminded her, his voice coming out a bit harsher than he intended, as he raised his eyes to hers again, the raw truth visible there in his terror and uncertainty. "And I won't be safe -- not until we can get some help in -- in stopping her. So -- I'll talk to him." He was silent for a moment, his voice lowering as he added softly, "Anything he can do to me -- can't be worse than what she's done, love. I'll let him kill me before I'll let her *touch*..."

His words broke off abruptly, as he fought back a sharp sob that had risen in his throat, shaking his head when Tara moved forward to hold him and holding out a hand to stop her. He needed her friendship, craved the comfort she offered -- but he knew that if he submitted to it now, he would fall apart again.

And right now -- he had to be strong.

Angel rose from his chair, meeting the younger vampire's eyes as he nodded toward his office, and then turned to lead the way. Spike rose awkwardly from his seat, avoiding Tara's and Dawn's looks of concern as he followed after him, knowing that they were not the least bit pleased with his decision.

But it *was* his decision -- the first decision he had been allowed to make in what felt like a lifetime -- and despite the disapproval of his friends, despite their better judgment, he was going through with it.

And, no matter what Angel would or would not say or do to him -- that alone felt strangely good.

Scary -- but good.

He quietly closed the door to Angel's office behind him, hesitating, taking a deep breath, before turning to face his sire. Even then, he found that his eyes seemed glued to the floor; he could not bring himself to meet Angel's eyes, not now -- not knowing what the older vampire now knew about what had happened to him.

Or rather, should have known.

"That was real," Angel stated the words, but there was a question behind them. "Not -- faked, somehow..."

"It was real." Spike's voice came out barely above a whisper, his eyes still fastened on the floor at his sire's feet.

"That was *her*."

That statement was more sure, yet stained with shock. Angel knew Buffy's voice better than any other, and if the tape itself was real, then he knew beyond all doubt that it was her on it.

Spike just nodded, unable to speak by this point for the hard knot of sick shame that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat.

Angel was quiet for a long moment, before he spoke in a voice that was almost too calm, as he slowly moved to sit down in the chair behind his desk.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Spike -- and tell me how this happened?"

Spike stood there awkwardly, not wanting to sit down, yet feeling oddly on display standing -- like a misbehaving schoolboy, enduring the scrutiny of his instructor while he nervously awaited his punishment.

"She -- she hasn't been the same. Not since they brought her back."

Angel said nothing, his dark eyes still studying Spike's face with a forced reserve, as he waited for him to go on.

"She -- she didn't want to talk to them. She just -- just wanted to talk to me. Guess she thought -- thought I c-could understand what it was she was going through -- better than they could, yeah?"

Angel nodded almost grudgingly, clearly unhappy with the idea of his idolized Slayer feeling that his soulless childe was the one she could best relate to. "Sort of makes sense," he conceded quietly.

"Yeah," Spike agreed with a nod. "Started out all right. We were almost -- almost friends, you know? Until -- until we -- well, there was this spell -- and we kissed -- though I don't really think it was because of the spell, because the spell was already broken when it happened, and it didn't seem like it was magic making us do it, it felt real, yeah? And even though she tried to say..."

"Spike..."

"Next thing I know we were shaggin', all right?" Spike blurted out the words, his gaze still averted, his expression miserable, half-expecting his sire to leap across the desk and strike him down right then and there. "It just sort of -- happened. We were -- fighting -- and she just sort of -- well, she *literally* bloody jumped me!"

"And you just felt so violated, right, Spike?" Angel practically spat the words out, his seething anger and jealousy obvious behind the sarcasm in his voice. "You hated every minute! That's really why you're so broken up about this whole thing, isn't it? Because you didn't want it -- you didn't *dream* of it *every single minute* until it happened, did you? You were totally unconsenting, it might as well have been rape, right?"

Spike was silent, fighting back the fresh tears of shame that welled up in his eyes, humiliated under the scathing accusations of his sire.

Angel's eyes widened at Spike's reaction to his words, though the truth still did not quite sink in for him.

Perhaps he simply didn't want it to.

"She raped you -- is that what you're saying, Spike? You didn't want anything to do with her -- it was rape!"

"It wasn't," Spike finally spoke up, his voice full of quiet anguish as he reluctantly added in a bare whisper, "not -- not that night..."

Angel felt his heart drop in his chest, and time seemed to stop, as the impact of what Spike was saying sank in for him. He swallowed hard, but his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper, as he shook his head slowly in unconscious denial of what he was gradually coming to see.

"Spike -- she wouldn't -- you wouldn't let her...?"

Spike broke down completely at those poorly chosen words, sobbing out bitterly, "I *did* let her! I was a stupid, pathetic ponce who let her do whatever the bleedin' hell she wanted to me! Are you happy now?"

Angel was silent, stricken by the anguish, the desperate self-loathing in Spike's voice.

"It wasn't like it started off like that," Spike explained, his arms crossed over his chest tightly in a pitifully defensive gesture, his head bowed as he went on in a trembling voice, "started off a lot milder -- not so bad -- Slayer'd always been one to knock me around a bit when she was upset -- take out her frustrations on the neutered vamp -- so why should I expect that to change just 'cause she was shaggin' me senseless every bloody chance she got?"

"Then -- then she wanted to play games -- and I'd never been one to complain where that sort of thing's concerned," Spike's face took on a disgusted smirk, as he glanced up at Angel and added, "least not for a long time, anyway," and despite the timing of his look, Angel was quite certain that Spike's disgust was not directed at him.

"Except -- she got -- different. She -- she wanted things -- I didn't want. And if I didn't give in quick enough for her liking -- she's just -- just *take* them..." Spike's voice was a haunted whisper now, echoing in the stillness of the room. "She'd -- she liked to -- liked to -- tie me up -- and -- and do the things I -- I begged her not to do -- the things I told her I -- I hated -- were the things she liked the most..."

Angel was convinced by now -- and the truth was swiftly becoming more than he could stand. He desperately wanted to stop Spike, to tell him he'd heard enough, to tell him to shut up -- but he knew that he had no right to do so, and couldn't quite bring himself to, no matter how badly he wanted to.

If Spike needed to say these things, he had no right to stop him.

"I -- I tried to leave. She -- she took my car keys. She told me -- if I left -- she'd find me. Kill me. Or -- or worse. And there *was* worse..." That ghastly, chilling smile was back on his face, so out of place, so obscene in the face of what he was talking about, but Angel could see the not so distant horror in his eyes, knew that he was dealing with his torment of memories the best way he knew how.

And they were still killing him.

"Tara -- she found out. She tried to help me -- even gave me her car to leave town. But -- but she caught me. That's when -- that's when she took me -- to -- to her -- her basement..." Spike's breath began to quicken, his words coming out with a terrible struggle, as his tears flowed freely down his trembling face. "...kept me there...did...did horrible things...I...I can't...I mean..."

His very brokenness called out to Angel across the sire/childe bond that they shared, and he suddenly longed to rise from his chair and cross the room, to take his boy in his arms as he so rarely had over the past century and a half -- in a gesture of comfort rather than of possession.

But Angel knew that he was guilty of offenses against Spike, every bit as bad as those Buffy had committed -- and his own shame held him back from offering what he knew his childe needed.

Even as Angel wrestled with what he knew he had to do, Spike's emotions seemed to overwhelm him, and his legs no longer seemed able to support him, as he collapsed to his knees on the floor, shaking and sobbing brokenly.

"I should have left," he choked out the words through his tears, despair and self-hatred clear in his voice. "Before it ever got -- like this -- I should have left -- shouldn't have let her -- but -- but I wasn't strong enough -- I -- I needed her -- too much -- no matter what she did to me, I needed her -- so much! I h-hated her for what she did -- but I loved her for who she was -- and I -- I'd let her do anything -- if it could get her to -- to l-love me..."

Angel felt something within his own heart shatter at those words, answer to both the questions swirling around in his mind.

*Why did he let her do it?*

*Why did he let *me* do it?*

Later, he didn't remember moving -- didn't know how he had gotten there. All he knew was that one moment, he was behind his desk, shaking with the effort to keep from running to Spike and taking him in his arms, cradling him as a father with his son.

And the next moment -- he already had.

Spike clung to him with a sort of grateful desperation, his body wracked with the pain of his memories and the shame of his need, sobbing against his sire's chest, as Angel held him close to him, rocking him slightly, whispering gentle shushing sounds of comfort to him.

"Help me," Spike whispered, his shaking hands clutching at Angel's shirt. "Please, Sire -- please help me..."

"Shhh," Angel soothed him, cradling his head against his chest, his own tears falling to wet both his shirt and Spike's disheveled blond curls. "Shh...I will, childe...I will..."