Lonely No More

Chapter two

"Cordy, I don't understand, how can you just pick up and leave like this?" Buffy asked as she tailed behind her friend.

"It's easy. I pick my things up, pack them, and leave."

"But it's across country! With a guy you barely know! Cordy, the
vagabond lifestyle is not for you!"

"Not true," Cordy said, jutting out her bottom lip in defiance, "I've always
wanted to travel."

"Yeah, to London and Paris. Detroit is a far cry from that," Buffy retorted,
trying to stop Cordy from packing up her things. She started to take things
out of the box Cordy was packing her things into.

Cordy stopped and glared at her, clearly annoyed. She flipped her long
brown hair over her shoulder and fixed her penetrating milk chocolate eyes
on Buffy, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. This would normally send
Buffy running for cover, but under the circumstances, and perhaps partly
in defeat, Buffy puffed out her chest and stood tall.

Snatching the framed picture of Hayden Christensen that she had on her
reception desk from Buffy's hands, she placed it back into the box, all the
while keeping a fixed eye on Buffy. She then proceeded to put the items
Buffy had taken out back into the box.

Buffy slumped in her seat in defeat. "What about your apartment?"

"I found someone to sublet it."

"How did you find someone on such short—"Buffy jumped up, "Cordelia
Chase! You knew about this for some time now haven't you?"

Something passed over Cordelia's face that Buffy had never seen before:
Guilt.

"I've known for a month," Cordy explained. "Which really isn't all that
much time at all. I had lots to do, plans to make. I had to find a home for
my car until I came back, put my stuff in storage . . . "

"And it never occurred to you to, oh, I don't know, tell me you were going?
I mean, I'm only your boss and your friend—"

"Buffy," Cordy stopped and turned to her. "Sometimes a girl has to do
what a girl has to do. I can't help it. Devon wants to go, he HAS to go. I love
him, so I have to go with him."

"As usual, it's all about you, isn't it Cordy?" Buffy said bitterly, walking
away from her.

"Yes, it is. It's all about me. Can I give you some advice Buffy?"

Buffy stopped on her way to consulting room and turned to her once
friend. "What?"

"Make some things about yourself for once in your life. Maybe if you took
the time to make yourself happy once in a while you wouldn't feel so
washed up and bitter."

Buffy's jaw dropped and her eyes stung with tears at Cordelia's strong
words, not to mention the harshness in her voice.

Cordelia pushed past her and pushed the swinging door to the entrance
open with her hip. "I'm sorry if that was harsh, Buffy, but it's true and you
know it. If you got out once in a while and didn't waste your time on those
wounded birds you seem to pick up, you'd find this place back to the
success you once had it at. If you don't start taking care of yourself, you're
going to die an old maid." Without further ado, she swept out the door.

Buffy rushed to the door and opening it, yelled after her. "I hope the tour
bus breaks down! I hope he gets booed off the stage and he gets tired of
you!"

Cordy's tires screeched out the parking lot and Buffy watched her go. The
girl didn't deserve her tears. Not after the horrible things she'd said.

It probably stung so much because they were all true.

Spike was exhausted. After he'd agreed to take his uncles task, he'd been
rushed out of Olympus. It was as if they couldn't wait to get rid of him. It
struck suspicion in Spike and made him wonder if Angel hadn't been
flapping his gums about him feeling discontent. Then came the blow that
he'd be de-winged on Earth. Spike balked at that. How did they expect him
to get around? Eros had merely chuckled and said there were all sorts of
transportation on Earth and he'd fare just fine.

His mother had been tearful, but pleased for him, and his father had
congratulated him and directed him to "make him proud." As if there
wasn't enough pressure on him already.

After much goodbyes and hugs, Spike had been sent on his merry way. Or,
like an angel clipped of his wings, he'd hurled to Earth and landed
unceremoniously in his new digs. Unscathed of course, unless you count the
thud in which he'd landed on his rump. He had been cursing the delivery
when he'd taken in his apartment. He had to smile; his uncle knew what he
liked. Large amounts of space, hard wood floors as rich as Eros' front room,
deep rich earth tones and overstuffed sofas and chairs, not to mention a
spacious bed with silk, blood red sheets and black and red frumpy pillows
stuffed with feathers. Just off his bedroom, furnished with a mahogany
Aware and oak desk with gold leaf trim, was a balcony overlooking the
ocean. Spike smiled as he stepped onto it and breathed in the fresh sea air.
He sent a silent thank you to his uncle and decided to freshen up a bit
before meeting his mission: Elizabeth Summers.

Soul Matched was attached to a video store. The outside was pretty simple
and did not at all match the posh atmosphere that was inside. Upon
entering, Spike felt as if he were entering one of those clubs he'd witnessed
in Eros' crystal balls when he was finding matches. It wasn't dark, but
wasn't bright either. The lights hung low and were in the shape of stars.
The wall weren't all one color, they traded from deep burgundy to deep
ginger. There was a sofa and a love seat in the corner with Japanese
designs on them, the background of them being black. A glass coffee table
sat in the center with a cream colored shag rug under it. Directly off to the
left, right past the love seat was a room with a small desk complete with a
desk, some framed pictures and a few plants. Across the main room was a
room shrouded with pink and blue scarves and beads hanging from the
door way. In the center was a long desk with a computer and against the
wall was a bookcase filled to the brim.

He felt at home there, that was the first thing that hit Spike as he took in
his surroundings. His eyes settled on the form that hunched over the desk,
pouring over papers. It had to be Elizabeth Summers. Her long, wavy blond
hair was creating a curtain on either side of her face.

Just then she looked up and Spike's breath caught. Great Merciful Zeus
she was breathtakingly, heartbreakingly gorgeous. Her amazing green eyes
peered up at him curiously, and the pink in her cheeks darkened. Her nose
was slightly crooked at the end and for some reason it made his heart swell.
She swept her long hair over her shoulder and proceeded to tie it back in
some elastic that appeared out of nowhere.

"Hi. Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

He shook his head, finding speech had left him.

"Would you like to make one?"

He shook his head again, mesmerized. He noticed then her eyes were
slightly puffy. She'd been crying? Who had made this beautiful creature cry
and why?

"Then what can I help you with?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"I'd like to work here," he stated, finally finding his voice.

She looked taken back for a second and then recovered. She stood and
Spike drank in her form completely. So petite, was she. The jeans and
oversized t shirt did nothing but hide what was sure to be a delectable
body. Spike was itching to find out, to peel away the layers and find the
core of Elizabeth Summers.

"You want to work here?" she chirped, confused.

He nodded.

"I haven't even had the help wanted sign up for more than an hour."

He hadn't seen the sign. Thank the Gods in Olympus there'd been a sign.

She crossed her arms and studied him. "Why do you want to work here?"

"I specialize in matchmaking."

"Is this a joke?"

"No," he said defensively. "Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Because you're a guy," she said matter of factly.

He took offense to that for not only himself but for his uncle and father and
for every other Eros helper out there. "A guy can't want to help people find
their match?"

"Are you gay?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows together.

"I'm not bloody gay!" Spike nearly roared with frustration. "Can I have the
job or not?"

"I don't know you! How can I give you the job when I don't even know
your name?" she put her hands on her hips.

"Spike," he said through gritted teeth.

"Spike? Is that a nickname or the name you were given as a child?"

He pursed his lips together.

"I need your real name."

His eyes darted to the bookcase. "William," he told her.

"Last name?" her eyebrow raised and her foot was tapping.

He looked back at the bookcase and took the first name he saw. "Giles."

"William Giles. Why Spike?"

"Long story."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

"You're not exactly welcoming there pet. Especially since I'm here to help
you out."

"I've had a rough morning," she muttered, going through the papers on the desk. "I can never find anything she has on here."

"Am I hired or not?"

"Don't you want to know what the job consists of?"

"It's pretty self explanatory innit?"

She narrowed her eyes. "It's not all that easy."

"I'm a quick learner."

"You're not actually setting anyone up, you realize."

"Why not?" he asked, defensive once again.

"Because that's my job."

"Rumor has it you've been sliding on the job. Seems to me a new set of
eyes is what you need."

She glared at him. "Not all about the eyes, smart ass."

"I hit a nerve huh?" he smirked, placed his hands on the desk and leaned
in toward her. Patchouli. She was scented with Patchouli. Reminded him of
home.

"What's your background if you know so much?" she challenged.

"Oh, cutie. You don't need to worry about that."

"I DO worry about that."

"Hire me and I'll tell you anything you want to know."