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Author's Chapter Notes:
I’m so very sorry for the delay on posting this. Life has been… hectic to say the least and my muse disappeared for a little bit. She’s back now, though, (finally) and with the aid of my lovely Im_bloody_English who came to my rescue, next chapter is almost halfway done, so it shouldn’t take me as long to post it as it took me for this one.


Onto very good news, I’m still in awe TAoI won for Most Original Plot at the Feeling Love Awards. It was such a lovely surprise and I want to thank each and every one that voted for this story. *smooches*


As always, thank you to all of you reading and especially to those reading and reviewing. I’ll answer to those as soon as I can, but I want you to know I appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think of the story. Thank you to my sweet Im_bloody_English, for being there for me, especially yesterday when I was feeling so moody and for all your help with this story. *snuggles* And of course to my lovely friend Tammy, for reading the chapter and assuring me it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

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Chapter 7. Neo-Impressionism

Monet, Renoir, Matisse, Picasso, Van Gogh... Buffy almost couldn’t give credit to her eyes as she recognized some of the paintings decorating the walls to Spike’s home. He’d been right when he’d greeted her on the portico, she hadn’t seen anything yet. If his house had seemed magnificent from the outside, inside it was… well, simply spectacular.

However, it was neither the art nor the house which made her breath hitch in her throat, her pulse quicken or her heart skip a beat... not at all. It was the man walking by her side and that had yet to relinquish his hold on her hand. Not that she was complaining. Far from it. If anything, the way he was always touching her whenever they were together gave her hope that whatever was happening between them wasn’t one sided. That it was real.

She reveled in the way he intertwined their fingers together, stroking her skin with his thumb in an absentminded fashion, how soft his skin felt against hers belying the underlying strength she knew to be there, how her hand fit so perfectly in his as if they were two halves of a whole, two sides of the same coin.

Funny thing that, he mused threading his fingers through hers as he led her towards the tea room, he’d never considered himself the kind of man that would enjoy human contact as much as he was right now. Now with Buffy, though, he couldn’t get enough of it, of her. The simplest things, her hand grazing his by accident, a whiff of her perfume or the adorable way she scrunched her nose when she was trying to concentrate only made him crave for more. He was hopelessly addicted to her; completely unable to stop himself from touching her in any possibly way, in any form she would allow.

She was light whereas he was dark; she was soft, curvaceous whereas he was all hard planes and straight lines. She was more than a creature of the night such as himself deserved, more than he’d ever dreamed to have and it was killing him to know it had to end. Much as he’d like to keep her forever, he couldn’t, more for her sake than his. He simply couldn’t bear to taint her purity, her radiance… with his darkness.

The question was for how long would he be able to refrain himself from trying to; especially when every one of her smiles, touches or looks sent his senses reeling into overdrive, enough to almost make him forget why he was still fighting this.

"Here we are," he said, stopping in front of a heavy oak door and smiling at her. "Thought we could have brunch before I showed you the rest of my paintings, unless you're not hungry yet?" Just then her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she had forgotten to eat breakfast in her haste to be ready in two hours. Completely mortified and not wanting to witness Spike's amusement—or God forbid, his disdain—at her predicament, she lowered her head to hide the blush staining her cheeks beneath the curtain of her hair.

She is too bloody adorable, he thought, placing a finger under her chin to raise her head until her eyes rested level with his before leaning down to kiss her nose. "You don't have to hide, darlin’, not from me; gotta love a girl with a healthy appetite." He winked at her and she couldn't stop the smile blooming on her lips at his choice of words. She sighed and probably would've swooned right then and there if he hadn't pushed the door open and led her into the room. As it was, her legs weren't too steady under her, so she thankfully sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her.

It was only then that she noticed her surroundings. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dark red velvet drapes over the windows and a small mahogany table elegantly set for two lay in the center of the room, full with all sorts of hors d'ouvres and canapés that smelt just about as divine as they looked.

He sat in the chair next to hers and smiled indulgently at her childlike enthusiasm for food.

“So, what’s your fancy, sweetheart?”

“Hmmm, do I have to choose?” She pouted slightly.

He chuckled, took a plate in his hand and placed several pieces on it. “Nah, I guess we could have one of each like the last time.”

“Works for me.” She beamed at him as she received the plate and started eating. Her eyes closed as she savored one of the canapés while moaning in delight. "Mmmmmm, this is exquisite."

His eyes darkened to a stormy midnight blue, fixing covetously on her mouth as she ate. He barely managed to stifle a groan at her actions, his manhood hardening almost painfully making him shift his position on the plush chair to ease his discomfort. The little mewls she was uttering and the way she was practically making love to her food with that luscious mouth of hers positively drove him mad with desire. She had no idea what she was doing to him of that he was sure. And that only made his lust for her grow to the point where he became jealous of the goddamned food.

He wished he were the one making her sigh like that. Making her moan, mewl, pant, gasp as he explored her body with his hands, lips and mouth, savoring her essence until she creamed on his tongue, thrusting inside her welcoming warmth until she cried his name out over and over, drenching his cock with her heavenly juices. Until nothing else existed but the two of them and the world they could encounter within themselves.

"Spike?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face. She’d noticed his distraction as she reached to pick at another morsel, the way his eyes glazed over as they focused on her mouth and the look within was so… intense, so... passionate, that she couldn't stop the shiver of longing that commanded her body. “Spike?” she repeated breathlessly.

Her voice finally pierced through the lust clouding his senses. He blinked as if waking up from a dream, his azure gaze focusing on the green depths which mirrored the want he knew was reflected within his own. He reveled at the near imperceptible shudder that ran through her; and took an unneeded breath, only to be rewarded with the fragrant aroma of her burgeoning arousal. Suddenly they weren’t close enough for his liking; he craved her like he’d never craved anyone or anything before. He needed to taste her, devour her, discover for himself if she was nearly as sweet as she appeared to be.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward until their faces were just a breath away, looking from her eyes to her mouth, his gaze settling on that lower lip that he longed to run his tongue over, imagining how it would feel to take it between his teeth and nibble on it.

She was drowning in the ocean blue of his eyes, in the way he looked at her, made her feel as if they were all alone in this universe. Food completely forgotten and powerless to stop herself, she inclined her head as he neared her, anticipation for what his mouth would feel like over hers overwhelming. Her eyes fluttered shut, heart galloping wildly inside her chest as his breath tickled her face.

He was a second away from claiming her lips with his when he heard someone clear their throat loudly in the room—someone that wasn’t either of them and that he knew all too bloody well—which made him freeze in midair. He closed his eyes warring with himself whether to acknowledge her presence or say the hell with it and kiss Buffy anyway. He knew the damned woman wouldn’t leave even if he decided to go forth with the latter. With an aggravated sigh he sat back in his chair. Running a hand over his face, he tried to regain some semblance of control over his libido, ruefully missing the warmth that being so close to Buffy brought him.

Buffy slowly opened her eyes, confusion swirling atop the emerald depths when the kiss she was expecting never came. In fact, Spike was nowhere even near her, he was resting back in his chair now, watching something by the door. Had she imagined it all?

She twisted in her seat to follow his gaze and found a middle-aged woman standing by the entrance, smiling at them while she held a tray filled with what looked like pastries. Where had she come from? Lost as Buffy was in her fantasy world, she hadn’t realized they weren’t alone anymore.

Amusement danced in Anne’s eyes at the annoyed glares and confused looks she was receiving from William and his guest because of her untimely interruption.

Rupert told her that Miss Summers was beautiful as well as resourceful, but what he meant by that second comment he’d refused to elaborate on no matter how much Anne begged. Damn man! So, she’d taken it upon herself to investigate and that’s when she’d found them about to kiss. It hadn’t been her intention to interrupt… at first, but then her maternal instinct kicked in. The need to meet the girl that had Master William so… besotted overwhelmed her until she couldn’t resist the urge to make sure the girl was worthy of the man she loved like a son.

And so far, she could see her husband hadn’t lied. The girl was as beautiful as her Rupert had claimed, but that wasn’t all. She had a radiance that emanated from within her very soul that seemed to brighten everything around her, including William, even if he wasn’t too happy now because of the disruption.

It wasn’t as if the interruption came as a surprise for Spike. Not really. As it was, the one thing that had been a shocker for him was that Anne waited this long to appear. He half-expected to see her lurking in the hallways, waiting for the right opportunity to introduce herself to Buffy and see if the girl was good enough for him. Resigned that the moment was effectively ruined, at least for now, he stood and walked towards the older woman to help with the tray she was carrying. Almost sorry he did because of the infuriating smile and wink she gave him when he reached her.

Spike sighed again, this time conceding defeat. He knew his housekeeper wouldn’t leave until she did what she came here for, so it wouldn't do to either ignore her or wish she’d disappear. He took the tray from her hands and together they approached Buffy.

“Buffy Summers, may I introduce Mrs. Anne Giles, the person responsible for makin’ this magnificent meal and keepin’ everything in the house runnin’ like a well-oiled machine.” Even if she can be a bloody pest when she wants to.

Anne blushed and smiled brightly at the girl, pleased by Spike’s praise and already feeling a bit guilty for disturbing their little moment. “Flattery will get you nowhere, boy.” Spike bristled at being called a boy, but remained silent. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. I hope you’re enjoying your stay in our country?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Giles. It’s so nice to meet you, but please, call me Buffy.” She offered her hand to the smiling housekeeper who quickly extended hers as well. “And yes, I’m enjoying my visit very much, thank you. In fact, I’ve recently discovered a love for many British… things. Especially…” She glanced meaningfully towards Spike who was following the conversation with interest. “…the food. It’s simply superb. I’ll truly miss it when I return to the States.”

Spike couldn’t shake his disappointment over Buffy’s answer. Logically he knew he shouldn’t be feeling anything of the sort. Still, logic always seemed to take a step back or ten whenever his golden girl was around. He was disappointed; he wished she’d said she loved... No, no, no, NO. What was he thinking? Was he insane? Very probably, he answered himself just as quickly. Insane with lust for a tiny scrap of a girl that had robbed him of his will; of his desire to shut himself off from everything that wasn’t his art.

The longing in Buffy’s eyes as she gazed at William wasn’t lost on Anne, even if the girl tried to downplay it with her comment. And the way he was looking back at her, well, she’d never seen him so smitten with anyone. He kept to himself most of the time, locked away in his studio painting. This girl had brought him out of his self-imposed exile, had brought light into this house and into his life. An idea began forming in her mind. Yes, it could actually work, if he didn’t decide to be headstrong about it, that is.

“Gotta love a girl with a healthy appetite; don’t you agree, lad?” Anne said, winking playfully at her boss.

“I said that first,” he grumbled under his breath, pouting slightly.

“Perhaps you could come back sometime soon so I can teach you how to make these?” She addressed Buffy, nodding towards the canapés on the table.

“Really?” Buffy’s hopeful smile lit up the room but abruptly waned when a sudden thought entered her mind. “I’d really like that, but I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Nonsense, you’d hardly be imposing. Would she, Master William?” she asked, her tone deceptively sweet, one that suggested there’d be hell to pay if he didn’t agree.

He smiled widely as he picked up on Anne’s question within a question, but he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he thought it was a bloody brilliant idea and would have to thank Anne later for suggesting it. “Not in the least. Miss Summers is welcome here... anytime she likes.” The possibility of having Buffy at his home again, even if he had to share her with Anne, warmed him. How could he not agree?

“Well, how can I resist then?” Buffy beamed at them, happy for the chance Anne had provided her with of seeing Spike again and getting to know more of the delightful woman in front of her at the same time.

“It’s settled then, Miss… Buffy,” she amended when she remembered the blonde’s earlier request. “Perhaps we can decide on a date later today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get started with lunch.” She smiled, unloading the tray she'd brought and left the room.

“Mrs. Giles is such a lovely woman,” Buffy said once Spike joined her again at the table and they continued eating. “You’re very lucky to have her and Mr. Giles here with you.”

“She does have her moments,” he agreed. “And yes, I’m quite fortunate. They’ve been in this house for what feels like forever sometimes and just yesterday on others. They’re pretty much the only family I’ve got left.”

“Aww, I know how that is. Although I don’t really have anyone like them, I have some very good friends back home.”

“Just friends?” She nodded. “I remember you mentioned your mother at the exhibit, but I’m quite certain you didn’t say anything about your father.”

“Let’s just say he’s not a part of my life anymore, nor would I want him to be,” she replied wistfully, trying to think of something else to say, anything, so long as it wasn’t about her father or her relationship with him, or rather, the lack thereof. “I hope you weren’t cornered into accepting before?” She wanted to kick herself as soon as the words escaped from her mouth, but she’d been unable to stop them.

“What do mean, love?” He raised his left eyebrow inquiringly, truly at a loss to what she might be referring to.

“Uhmm, regarding the cooking classes Mrs. Giles offered? I just don’t want you to feel… erm, obligated to have me here.”

Have her here? Christ, if that didn’t make him entertain some very interesting ideas that had his cock straining against his zipper once more. “Oh, I don’t know, somehow I don’t think I’d mind… what was it? Havin’ you here... whenever you want, sweetheart.”

There was no mistaking his meaning, not after he waggled his eyebrows and did that thing with his tongue that made liquid heat rush through her veins and stain her cheeks flush pink once again.

“Oooh, stop doing that!”

“Doin’ what, sweetheart?” he replied with as much innocence as he could muster.

“Making me blush, that’s what. Stop it. I mean it,” she chastised him before pouting.

There goes that glorious lip again, he groaned inwardly. For all her innocence, it was positively sinful what she did to him with it, what he wished he could to do to it, to her. And what’s more, she had no idea at all how attracted he was to that air of innocent allure that radiated from deep within her.

“Sorry, darlin’, no can do. I enjoy watchin’ the roses bloom in your cheeks too much for that.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “It makes you look lovelier than any earthly creature has a right to be. You wouldn’t deny me that pleasure, now would you??”

Oh God, that was so not fair. As if she could refuse him anything he asked while he was looking at her like that, causing tingles to spread from her hand to every nerve ending, while he spoke to her as if she were precious to him. Not sure of her ability to talk, she just shook her head no.

She looked breathtakingly beautiful as she stared back at him, the purity of her soul shining so brilliantly in her emerald eyes that he felt his undead heart constrict within his chest. He felt as if he were standing on a ledge, on the precipice from falling into sweet oblivion. And for once he was tempted to do just that, until common sense clamored to be heard above his heart’s desire.

He glanced down at the table, noticing they’d finished most of the food already. “If you’re finished, perhaps we could continue with what I’ve planned for the day?” With any luck, and with no more interruptions, he added to himself from either of the Giles.

“Lead the way,” she replied with a smile, thinking she couldn’t wait to find out what other surprises he had in store for her.

tbc

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