The shrill bleating of the phone only caused Spike to jump again...and then he winced for an entirely different reason, embarrassed by his own persistent reactions of fear.

"It's all right," Tara whispered, knowing that only he could hear her gently teasing words. "It's an office...the phone'll do that sometimes."

"It's okay," Fred spoke up from her corner of the room with a sad, sympathetic smile, and Spike looked up at her in surprise. "I jumped the first time I heard it, too."

They all grew quiet then, as Angel lifted the receiver in his hand. "Angel Investigations," he spoke tersely, passing on the usual tagline, which he never could seem to quite get right.

The voice on the other end of the line was too quiet for the humans in the room to make out, but it was obvious by the look on Angel's face who was calling. Tara knew an instant before the others, when she felt Spike's body go rigid beside her...a moment before he leapt off the sofa, whirling around to face the telephone with wide, terrified eyes.

Clumsily, heedless of anything in his path, he scrambled backward until his back was against the wall, shaking his head emphatically, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps as he struggled against his own panic.

Tara could see that he was losing the struggle.

She swiftly moved from the sofa and crossed the room to him, firmly cupping the back of his head and pulling his head down against her shoulder, just as his terror got the better of him and a hoarse, whimpering cry left his throat. Fortunately, she had reached him just in time, and the sound was muffled against her blouse.

"Shhh," Tara urged the shaking vampire in a tense whisper. "Spike, you have to be quiet. Don't let her hear your voice, Sweetheart."

Those words seemed to get through to Spike, cutting through his panic with an even greater fear. He clung tightly to the blonde witch, nodding against her shoulder as she continued to speak soft, soothing words of comfort to him.

"I'm okay," he breathed out against her shoulder, though his tone made it clear that he was not. The words were more an effort to convince himself than anyone else. "I'm okay, I'm okay, love..."

"It's all right...she doesn't know you're here, Spike...she's just asking Angel..."

Spike abruptly raised his head, wide eyes focusing on hers with a fresh terror, his face deathly white as he looked over her shoulder to where Angel stood by the phone. There was a painful desperation that flooded his eyes with his tears, as he shook his head pleadingly in the direction of his sire.

Tara immediately understood.

"Spike," she spoke in a quiet, urgent voice, one gentle hand on his cheek drawing his eyes back to hers and holding on intently. "Spike...*no*. He would not do that to you, do

you hear me? *No*."

Spike nodded automatically, though he did not look convinced. He looked down for a moment, breaking her gaze, before hesitantly looking toward Angel again. The older vampire was looking toward him intently, a look of horror in his eyes.

The Slayer's lengthy, breathless tirade was just coming to an end. "Buffy, I can't hear you, you're breaking up...can you hold on just a second?" he said calmly without taking his eyes off Spike. "A customer just walked in. Let me put you on hold, I'll be right back, okay?"

Frowning at the buttons on the telephone base for a moment before finally locating the one marked "hold" and pressing it, Angel laid the receiver down on the reception desk. That done, he turned and strode swiftly across the room toward his childe and the blonde witch, one strong hand taking Tara by surprise as he touched the side of her neck, leaning in so close that his lips brushed her ear as he spoke...ensuring that she would hear him clearly, but leaving no possible chance that Buffy might as well.

Tara wondered briefly if Angel understood the purpose of the "hold" button.

"Take Spike and Dawn upstairs, and don't come down until I come up to tell you it's okay," he instructed. "Either one of them is likely to freak and say something...make some sound...even by accident...and this has to be handled with care. All right?"

Tara nodded, in complete agreement with his assessment of the situation, and started toward the stairs, pulling Spike with her with one arm and gesturing with the other for Dawn to come to her. But the moment that Tara was no longer supporting him, Spike slid to the floor, and she turned back in alarm, thinking that his fear had overwhelmed him so completely that he had passed out.

But that was not the case at all. Spike was fully conscious.

And kneeling at the feet of his sire.

Angel stared down at him in disbelieving dismay, as Spike pressed his face to the floor at his feet, shaking his head slowly in a pleading way, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he clutched at the older vampire's ankles desperately.

In an instant Angel was crouched in front of him, prying his trembling hands from his legs and forcing him up to face him. Spike's shoulders were slumped, as he cried without making a sound, broken and devastated afresh by the mere sound of the Slayer's voice.

"Spike!" Angel hissed. "Spike, stop this! Get up!"

The blond vampire finally met Angel's dark gaze, his eyes wide and terrified and beseeching.

"Please," he whispered, bowing his head again. "Please, sire, please..."

"Spike, listen to me," Angel commanded, barely breathing out the words, yet still infusing them with a note of authority that his childe could not miss. "Look at me."

In his present state of mind, there was no question as to whether or not the younger vampire would obey.

Angel's dark eyes spoke of a sincere tenderness, and a fierce protectiveness, that would not allow any harm to come to his childe, not while he yet had the physical ability to prevent it. His voice was low, barely audible, but firm with honesty and conviction.

"I would never betray you to her, Spike."

"But...you love her..." Spike protested tearfully. "You still love her."

Angel stood up slowly, solemn eyes staring down in dismay at the broken shell his former love had left of his beloved childe.

"No," he stated decisively in a dangerous voice of dark fury. "I really don't."

He reached down to pull Spike to his feet, holding him up for a few moments as he spoke in a firm voice of instruction, "Go upstairs with Tara and Dawn. You'll be safe there, I promise. *Trust me*."

Spike nodded, attempting to be brave despite his overwhelming fear, and started obediently toward the stairs, followed by the girls. As they walked, Dawn hastened her pace a bit, slipping her arm around Spike's waist and leaning her head on his shoulder in a silent display of her sympathy and affection.

Spike automatically returned the half-embrace, lowering his eyes and blinking back tears.

"Lorne," Angel said quietly, drawing the attention of the demon as he turned back toward the phone. "Go with them."

No further explanation was needed, as the green demon had already intended to do just that. This little trio had a boatload of issues that needed resolving...and Dr. Lorne was just the empath for the job.

As the little group disappeared up the stairs, Angel returned to the phone and, after a confused moment, managed to retrieve the call.

"Buffy? I'm back. Sorry, I had a customer. I couldn't hear you before, there was...interference, or something. What's wrong?"

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

As they reached the top of the stairs, Tara wrapped her arm around Spike on the other side, giving Dawn's arm a gentle squeeze as the girl looked up at her behind Spike's back, a silent question in her wide blue eyes. Tara's hand rested on the handle of a door directly in front of her, and she glanced down the hall, noting that there were plenty of empty rooms to choose from.

"Give us a second, guys, okay?" she requested, directing her reassuring smile first to Dawn, then to Lorne. "In just a few minutes, you guys can come in here...but could we just have a moment first?"

"Take all the moments you like, Honeybun," Lorne replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, shaking his head as he gave Tara a conspiratorial wink. Putting an arm around the shoulders of a slightly protesting Dawn, he led her toward a different room a little farther down the hall.

"So, Sweetie-Pie...do you sing?"

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

"Stupid, bloody, buggering *ponce*!" Spike declared in a frustrated growl as he immediately began pacing the floor of the bedroom where he and Tara were, the same room that she had used to magically take his pain from him.

Tara turned to face him as she closed the bedroom door, a puzzled frown on her face. "Lorne?" she guessed, considering before shrugging her shoulders. "I actually kind of like him. He doesn't seem that bad to me..."

"Not him!" Spike nearly snarled, stopping his frenetic pacing, his piercing blue eyes glittering with his pain. "*Me*!"

Tara's expression softened with understanding, and her eyes welled with sympathetic tears. "Spike," she whispered, shaking her head in denial of his self-disgust. "Spike, no..."

"Look at me!" he demanded, stepping back sharply as she moved toward him to soothe him. "No, just bloody *look at me*, Tara!"

She stood still, silently complying with his desperate request, waiting for him to go on.

Whatever it was he needed to get out, she was determined to let him.

"I was a legend," he reminded her, his voice lower, calmer now, but still trembling uncontrollably. "I...I killed two of her kind. And...and now...I'm...I'm...*nothing*! Nothing but her...her soddin' *slave*..."

"No, Spike, you're more than that," Tara insisted, trying to break in.

"*No I'm not*!" Spike cut her off in a voice that was almost savage, taking a furious step toward her, glaring at her, daring her to disagree. When she was wisely silent, he continued, lower, his voice breaking over the hard conclusion he had reached. "There's nothing of me left in here, Tara...nothing of what I was... She...she took it all...she took it all..."

He shook his head, despairing, his lip curling in disgust at the very sobs that overwhelmed him, as he wrapped his arms protectively around his chest, leaning against the wall beside him for support as he felt his knees weakening.

Before they could fail him...Tara was there.

"Spike," she spoke in a low, firm voice, her hands on his arms as she steadied him. "That's not true. That's not true at all."

"How can you say that?" he demanded tearfully, looking up at her through the tears that streaked his face. "How can you look at me...how can you see me...shaking every time the bloody door opens, and...and cringing like a bloody cur when the phone rings...and say that?" Spike's voice was barely over a whisper by this point, as he held her gaze, his own dark and despairing. "I'm not the Big Bad anymore, Tara."

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes finally dropping as he whispered, "What makes you think there's any part of him left in me?"

A gentle but firm hand touched his chin, insistently tilting his head back up, and Tara waited in patient silence until he reluctantly raised his eyes to hers again. Once she was certain that she had his attention, she smiled warmly into his eyes, and he was awed by the depths of not only affection, but genuine respect and admiration he saw there.

"You're here," Tara stated simply. "That's proof enough."

Spike frowned in confusion. "What...because I didn't fight her, even if she killed me? Because I bowed to her bloody whims, and she let me live?"

There was such a dark, hateful self-reproach in his voice that Tara shuddered.

"No," she replied. "Because you're *here*. And not back in Sunnydale with her." When Spike still looked puzzled and uncertain, she explained, "You didn't have to leave with us, Spike..."

"Yeah," he scoffed dismissively, looking away. "Like anyone would have stayed in that...that bloody basement. I ran. Yeah. I can see how that proves your bloody point about how big and brave I am."

Tara patiently ignored his persistent attempts at self-degradation, going on quietly. "You stayed with her for a long time, Spike. You weren't strong enough to leave. I - I know what that's like."

Spike looked up at her sharply, his piercing gaze alarmed, and a bit too penetrating for her liking.

It was Tara's turn to look away as she continued, "I tried and tried to get you to go...and you wouldn't. Now, I know that basement was...was horrible beyond anything I could comprehend. But...but after the things she said to you...the way she treated you...made you feel about yourself...I would not have been surprised if you had been too afraid to go."

Spike lowered his eyes in shame, swallowing back a sob.

"But you weren't."

Tara's words, full of conviction and admiration, struck him, and he went very still...just listening, as she went on.

"You left her, Spike. You finally, really left her. No matter what the circumstances were. And that's something that only the *real* Spike would do - not the whipped puppy she tried...and *failed*...to turn you into."

"She didn't fail," Spike whispered in a small, shamed voice, his eyes closed. His tears squeezed past his closed lids, despite his best efforts, as he repeated, "She didn't fail, Tara. She...she broke me. I'm...weak. I'm weak, Tara...too weak..."

"You're strong," the blonde witch insisted, running an affectionate hand through his hair, feeling her heart swell with emotion as his brilliant blue eyes opened to lock doubtfully on hers. "And you're only getting stronger."

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

"Okay, well...let me know if you hear anything? Please?" Buffy's voice was tearful and desperate as she spoke into her cell phone, and waited for the vampire's response.

"Of course, Buffy," Angel replied, his voice sounding concerned. "Of course I will. I only wish I could do more to help. But like I said, any connection I had with Spike has been broken since I got my soul back the last time. I'll be looking for him, though. Have you..." His voice was hesitant, as he asked calmly, "Have you tried a locator spell?"

"Of course," Buffy sighed wearily. "More than one. They're all going kablooey. He's got to have some kind of magic he's using to hide from us."

"But Spike hates magic," Angel pointed out.

Once again, Buffy felt the urge to violence.

"Well, if he was desperate...which he should be, because if he's hurt my sister, I swear, Angel, I'm gonna..." She stopped, pausing to regain control of her emotions before she concluded, "He should be desperate."

"You'll find them, Buffy," Angel assured her. "I'm sure you will."

Buffy hung up the phone a few moments later...and her demeanor changed in an instant.

"Turn around, Xander. We need to go back to the Magic Box."

Willow spoke up from the backseat, sounding confused. "What for?" We've tried every locator spell..."

"Forget locator spells," Buffy snapped, a bit harsher than she had intended in her eagerness to get to her escaped vampire slave. "Will, you need to get whatever you need to pull out the big guns."

"What for?" Xander asked, looking a bit worried.

"I've found them," the Slayer declared, suppressing a smug grin. "They're in L.A."

"What? Did Angel tell you that?" Willow asked, clearly confused, as what she had heard of the conversation did not seem to back up that idea.

"No. He must have Angel under some kind of thrall, along with the rest of them," Buffy declared, her expression becoming grim and dark and troubled. "Angel was trying to cover for him. He said he hasn't seen him, can't trace him...but I know that's not true."

"How?" Anya asked, bewildered. "How do you know?"

Buffy allowed just a hint of her satisfaction to show in a cold smile playing about the edges of her mouth. Her response was cryptic, not revealing much in the way of answers to her puzzled friends.

"Somebody needs to learn how to use a ‘hold' button."