Lonely No More

Chapter Seven

She was funny. The girl had a wicked wit and it left Spike laughing out loud. Her smile warmed him, made him feel like spreading the wings he'd had to check on his way down to Earth and waving them around out of sheer joy. Her laughter sounded like a chorus of Angels—and he'd heard them first hand.

He'd given her a hard time today, so he was glad to see her unwind. Even if
most of her giggles had more to do with the wine and less with the
company. It felt good nonetheless to see her smiling and laughing. He'd
steered clear of all topics pertaining to business or anything that could be
construed as prying. He kept to safe topics—movies, Tom Cruise and Katie
Holmes, then those segued into embarrassing moments stories which Spike
had to edit a great deal to hide where he came from and his identity.

She'd helped him make dinner, and he was amazed by how much of a
perfectionist Buffy Summers was. She wanted to do everything right and
saw any setback as a failure on her part. These little things were windows
into her and Spike took any scrap he could get. It wasn't like she was
handing out the information. When he'd complimented her on how great
everything turned out, she'd modestly told him it was all because of him.
He'd done most of the cooking, she'd said.

"You helped though," he told her. You put the marinade together for the
steaks."

"You told me what the ingredients were. I just followed direction. I never
could have done it without you."

"Buffy, stop."

She took a sip of her wine. "What?"

"I pay you a compliment and you take it back. You don't accept it. I say
you did more than just helping. Anyone can follow a cook book, but it
doesn't mean they get it right and that it makes them a good cook. If that
were the case then there would be chefs all over the place. I was your
cookbook and you did the work. Accept the compliment."

"All right, if it means that much to you, I accept the compliment."

"It does mean a lot to me and it should to you too Buffy."

"Can we let the compliment thing go now?" she asked, almost meekly,
which surprised him. Buffy meek? He'd known her less than 24 hours and
he knew that wasn't a facet of Buffy Summers. It intrigued him.

"You're like an onion," he blurted out, studying her.

She blinked. "A what?"

"An onion. You've got all these layers to you. I unpeel one, but there's
another one just underneath. And sometimes they contradict the piece I
just pulled back. So I just keep peeling and peeling until I get to the core of
you."

"And sometimes, like an onion, I make you cry," she joked and then
laughed at her own joke. Spike couldn't help but laugh along with her.

Standing suddenly, he grabbed her wine glass from her hand and set it
down. He took her hand in his and helped her stand.

"What?" she asked, confused as he led her to the middle of his living room.

"Want to dance with you," he told her softly and studied his stereo system
before attempting to turn it on. He didn't want Buffy to think he'd never

used it before. That might look a little fishy. He dove in and hoped for the
best. Clicking it on, a soft slow tune wafted out of it. Not clichéd at all, he
chuckled to himself. Leave it to Eros to have the channels preset to love
rock.

He turned to find Buffy standing awkwardly in the middle of his floor
where he'd left her, staring at him uncertainly.

He kept his eyes trained on her, despite the fact that she looked away from

him and fidgeted with her hands. He took him in his gently and brought
them up to his shoulders so they rested there.

"Look at me, Buffy," he softly demanded her.

Slowly, her eyes met his and he smiled. He wrapped his arms about her
waist and pulled her closer to him so that her body was flush against his.
Now, he knew he found Buffy gorgeous and that he was intrigued by her
more than any women he'd ever encountered and large part of that was
due to the fact that she was unlike any other woman he'd met. He wanted
to help her business, yes, but he also wanted her to find happiness. He
wanted the lady to be happy and he felt that once she was, the business
would soar again. Having her body against his was doing things to him that
he hadn't expected. The surge of desire he felt within him, the urge to
protect her and at the same time possess her was almost overwhelming. Bending his head, he moistened his lips, wanting to claim her lips with his own, but the fear in her eyes stopped him.

It was too soon.

So, instead he dropped his head so that his cheek was next to hers and he
could feel her breath on his neck. His heart was thudding rapidly in his
chest and he wondered if she could feel it. What he was feeling being this
close to her was not supposed to happen. He should have known when he
saw her though. He should have prepared himself for the possibility of
feeling this tingling through his body and this hum coursing through him
where her body met his. As soon as he'd laid eyes on her he knew he'd
found his own Helen of Troy.

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?" he hummed, closing his eyes and taking in her scent.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing with you luv," he murmured, unable to resist the allure of
running his fingers through her silky strands.

"Why?"

He smiled, "Because I wanted to."

"Oh."

Silence fell and as time passed, the more she relaxed. He held her closer
when he felt the tension leave her. He inhaled deeply her scent and closed
his eyes, feeling light-headed.

"When was the last time someone held you like this?" he murmured,
running his fingers down her back.

She froze instantly and pushed away from him. "What is this? Are you
looking for a piece? Am I convenient or is this your way of ‘helping me'?
OR, do you think if you seduce me, I'll just let you run the place?" she
shook her head. "You're unbelievable," she muttered and walked away, in
search of her purse.

He was horrified that she could even think those things. "No, Buffy, wait!"
he ran to her and stopped her, holding onto her hands in a death grip. "I
brought you here so we could get to know each other better. I meant what
I said, I wanted to take care of you tonight. I saw you sitting there and I
just wanted to . . . "

She cocked her head to the side. "Wanted to what?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

He shook his head, "No."

"You've told me everything else under the sun and now you can't answer a
simple question?"

"I wanted to hold you!" he blurted out, frustrated.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back, much to his chagrin.

"Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure exactly, but it felt like the thing to say."

"You shouldn't say you're sorry unless you're really sorry."

"It's a woman thing," she shrugged.

"I don't understand it."

"Neither do I. You know how many times a day I apologize for something
I could really care less about?" she asked, smiling.

"Don't bother on my account."

"Oh trust me, that bus stops right here."

He eyed her, pleased to find her smiling and obviously teasing. That was
definitely a step in the right direction. He just wasn't sure for what direction
anymore.

He smiled back at her. "Buffy, I'll only ever be completely honest with you.
There are no secrets I'll keep from you about anything." Save one, he
added in his mind, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Yeah, you've got that whole brutally honest thing going on."

"You don't like it?"

"Jury's out still."

"Then I'll just have to stick around until they make up their mind."

She smiled. "I should go now Spike."

He nodded, not wanting her to go, but knowing if she stayed, he'd be
unable to control his urges around her. "I had a good time tonight Buffy.
And you know what? It was because of you."

"This where I take the compliment?" she teased.

"Yes."

"Taken."

"Finally."