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Buffy watched Spike warily as he moved around “Soul Matched”, checking things out. He had an insatiable curiosity about everything and after the morning she’d had with Cordelia, coupled with Spike’s questions about her business and how it was failing, Buffy wanted nothing more than to go home and hide under the covers for the day. Or a week. She was almost tempted to do it, too. Almost tempted to tell him since he seemed so keen on setting up clients and since he thought he could do better. She could just let him have at it and see how long it took before he sought her counsel. She frowned. What if he didn’t though? What if he did have success? What if she was forced out of her own business?

“You’re thinking hard,” Spike observed standing in front of her at the reception desk. He tilted his head to the side. “And you look tired. Why don’t you make some coffee or take a few minutes on the couch.”

She blinked at him. “Are you suggesting I take a nap?”

“Yeah, why not? You don’t have an appointment until three. That’s forty-five minutes from now. Take some time.”

“No,” she said flatly.

“Trying to help Buffy,” he told her gently.

“I’m going to set up,” she mumbled. He followed her.

“Tell me your story,” he urged.

“My story?” she asked as she started the coffee and placed a Jazz CD in the stereo system.

“Everyone’s got a story.”

“I was born, I grew up, and here I am. That’s my story.”

“Don’t be so prissy and closed off,” he said, hopping up on the counter and swaying his feet. “Tell me about your morning at least.”

“Cordy left,” Buffy mumbled, placing out mugs.

“She was the former receptionist,” Spike stated.

“Right. And I thought she was my friend.”

“You thought she was—she’s not then?”

“Apparently not. Seems I ‘latched’ on mistakenly. Why am I telling you this?” she asked, turning to him.

“Because you need to get it out. It’s not good to hold things like you do, luv.”

“You’ve known me three hours and you’ve already psychoanalyzed me? Great. This should be fun,” and she rolled her eyes. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re still, oh, I don’t know, a stranger so why should I open up to you?”

“You’re closed off,” he continued on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Defensive. Doesn’t take a crystal ball—magic—no,” he shook his head, “Doesn’t take a, uh… psychology degree to figure that out.”

“What was all that?”

He had the gall to look innocent. “What?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.” God, he was exhausting.

“So, why were you mistaken in thinking this Cordelia was your friend?”

“She pretty much let me know I wasn’t when she packed up and left without any warning. She’d known for a month she’d be leaving and never bothered to tell me. Yeah, that kind of tipped me off,” Buffy said matter-of-factly. Though she felt anything but matter of fact about it. In fact, she was still stinging and her words, combined with Spike’s, were still ringing in her ears and running over and over in her mind. So now in addition to “washed up” and “bitter”, she could also add “closed off” and “defensive”. When the hell had this happened to her? And why was today the day that everyone felt the need to tell her what exactly was wrong with her? It more than just a little annoying.

“You’re thinking again,” Spike said and pointed at her. “Where did she go?”

Buffy sighed heavily. “She took off her with her rocker musician boyfriend. This is the same girl that hates going to shows because it’s always ‘seedy’ and her shoes stick to the floor and she hates beer . . . But somehow she’s decided to traipse off touring with B.J.” She shook her head and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t get it, I mean…his name alone…”

“She’s in love,” Spike said, shrugging.

“Love? No. Lust is more like that.” Buffy said, her head snapping up.

“How do you know?”

“Because she barely knows him!”

“Sometimes a moment is all it takes,” Spike said wistfully, staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

She turned away. “Yeah, well . . . “

He jumped down. “You should know about those quick moments working here. It’s what you specialize in isn’t it? Making the connection, hopefully the right connection, with the right person. If you didn’t believe in it, then you wouldn’t pay for the date you chose for them. Unless of course you don’t believe in any of it. Then that just makes you a fraud. So, what is it Buffy?”

Her jaw dropped. She was actually too stunned to be angry at the moment. “What’s what?”

“What are you? A fraud or a believer?”

“Both,” she said, sticking her chin up in a haughty motion.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“Humor me.”

“You seem to have all the answers, why don’t you tell me?”

“I’d rather hear it from you. I think it might help,” he said simply.

“Help what?” she asked almost incredulously.

“Help you get out the turmoil you have. You’re practically covered in it. It might help you clear out all that plagues you.”

“So what? I’ll be back on track and as big of a success as I used to be?” she said sarcastically.

“Exactly,” he nodded.

“Very idealistic. What is this? A therapy session? A movie in which the hero knows all the ways to make the heroine well and all she needs to do is open up and take the first step to heal and then a whole world will open up to her that she never knew existed?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s crap.”

“Try it.”

“How about you don’t tell me what to do?” she said stubbornly and walked away from him. Why was she even still talking to him? Why didn’t she just fire him already for insubordination—though he wasn’t really being insubordinate, he was just being a colossal pain in the ass.

“Maybe you like to cling to those walls you’ve erected around yourself. Maybe you’re afraid to shake them for fear they’ll crumble.”

She whipped her head to him. “Why are you still talking and why would I be afraid of that?”

“Because they make you feel safe.”

“What is with you? Why am I such an interest for you? You don’t even know me!”

“And you don’t make that any easier to try and get to know you.”

“I just met you, jackass. I don’t go disclosing my secrets to someone I just freaking met!”

“I’m intrigued Buffy,” he told her earnestly. “I see a defiant, self-sufficient, brilliant woman before me that should feel as if the world is her oyster and yet she’s bitter and angry and doesn’t seem to believe in the very things she’s made a career out of. I see you just…going through the motions.”

“How do you know I’m just going through the motions? You just met me All right, look, I do believe okay? I do,” she said, exasperated, throwing up her arms.

“I sense a ‘but’,” he said patiently.

Buffy heaved a deep breath. “I believe in it for others, but not for me.” Again she had to wonder why she was still talking to him. Perhaps curiosity. A part of her wanted to see what else he would uncover and yet she was terrified of it as well.

He stared at her. “You believe in true love for everyone else, but not for yourself?”

“Right. I believe that the universe somehow gypped me. It gave me the talent to set others up, but it came with a catch,” Buffy told him bitterly.

“That you have to be alone?” He seemed shocked.

“Yes. Everyone leaves me. Everyone has someone. And when I do find someone, it’s some bottom feeder that sucks the life out of me.”

“Don’t pick bottom feeders,” Spike said on a shrug sounding as if he’d just solved world hunger.

“Gee, I never would have figured that out on my own had you not told me. I feel the heavens have opened up and I think I hear angels singing now!” She let out a frustrated sigh off his warning look. “I have tragic taste in men, what can I say? I can pick for everyone else in the world—though not as of late—but I can’t pick for me.”

Spike nodded. “It’s the same in other professions I’m sure Buffy.”

“You mean like the mechanic who can’t fix his own car? The plumber with a leak?”

“Right,” he nodded.

“Except a broken car and a leak doesn’t hurt and make you feel lonely. You can always go out and buy a new car or fix a pipe. It gets a little trickier when it’s a person you’re looking for,” Buffy said, her eyes starting to well up.

Spike moved to take her in his arms and Buffy pushed him away. “You got what you wanted. I don’t want your pity now!” she yelled at him and stomped off. She hated William ‘Spike’ Giles for making her tell him those things. She hated him for bringing out her inner demons. It was like he’d seen right to the core of her, and all under a few hours. She didn’t like that at all. She was just going to have to make sure the boundaries of employer/employee were firmly in place. No more talking about her feelings and fears. No more, no way, no how.





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