Forty five minutes later, Spike was sitting in the recliner, bouncing one knee up and down agitatedly as he continually kept checking the clock. They were going to be late if Buffy didn’t get her arse out here now so they could leave.
“Women,” he muttered under his breath. “Already had her makeup on, all she had to do was take her curlers out and slip on a dress for Chris’ sa-” His thoughts were abruptly cut the second she walked into view, his mouth dried up and his jaw dropped. A bloody goddess she was. Put the very stars he enjoyed gazing at to shame. She was perfection, no, a paragon of feminine beauty and elegance. All he could think was mine, my girl, and how lucky, how blessed he was she’d be gracing his arm tonight.
Black had always been his favorite color, but his mind changed in a heartbeat when seeing the vision before him. He drank in the sight of the merlot colored gown with its layered silk chiffon material, delicate ruffles adorning it below the waistline. She must have noticed him staring because she held her arms slightly away from her sides, pirouetting twice for his inspection. From front to back, the boned bodice was laced in crisscrossed satin ribbon from her hips to just below her breasts, which were accentuated by the sexy cowl neckline and spaghetti straps. Her golden hair was pinned up, a few carefully chosen locks hanging tastefully in loose curls that framed her face. The opened toed heels on her feet revealed she’d repainted her toenails to match her dress. Well, that explains what took her so long.
Though his eyes were quite expressive, Buffy was slightly nervous because he’d yet to say a word. Clearing her throat, she asked, “You like Vera Wang?”
“Not as much as I like it on you, kitten.” And not nearly as much as he wished to peel it off her slowly… very slowly.
“You clean up pretty well yourself.” And that’s all I could come up with? Of course he always looked attractive whether it was in his infamous all black with leather duster attire or the sexy double breasted suits he wore to work. But this… this brought her to her knees.
Sure, she had an inkling as to how nice he’d look in formalwear, but watching him rise from the chair gradually, almost cautiously, any theories she’d had sadly lacked in imagination. From his patent leather shoes to the coat tailed jacket, he looked so… polished and refined that she swore he came across as older than his biological age. The traditional winged collar shirt with white satin bow tie and vest were a pristine white, a stark contrast to the black of his tuxedo. And somehow, the ensemble made his already gorgeous baby-blues stand out even more than usual. It made his eyes appear iridescent; gleaming in a silvery blue hue that had her so captivated… she wanted to faint.
“You look… look…” Dashing, handsome, sophisticated, debonair… She could have chosen any one of those words to compliment him with as he made his way towards her - if her brain could get beyond anything but GAH. He looked so sinfully delicious, that when she remembered their plan to stick together tonight, it occurred to her she had her own ‘arm candy’. And damn if she didn’t want to lick one of those razor sharp cheekbones with the tip of her…
“You-” He stopped directly in front of her, raising a tentative hand. “-look like an angel.”
He never touched her, but she could feel the heat of his ghostly caress, of his fingertips as they drew an outline down her hair, cheek and chin. His eyes held such awe, like he was seeing her for the first time, and it made her dizzy with the need to lean into his hand, make contact with the warm flesh of his gentle palm. Thankfully, he shook his head and stepped back, effectively bringing them both out of their stupor.
“Ready to leave, luv? Think we may miss part `f the cocktail hour, but as long as we make dinner, we’ll be fine.
“Yuh-huh.” She nodded dumbly as he turned around to retrieve her coat for her.
~~~*~~~
Spike bent his elbow, offering his forearm to Buffy and secured her fingers with his free hand once she took it. And together they entered the six thousand square foot luxurious ballroom of the Mandarin Oriental.
“Seems Mr. O’Connor just can’t turn down a chance to flaunt his wealth,” she commented dryly. Although she had to admit the atmosphere was overwhelming in its opulence. From floor to ceiling, the eighteen foot tall windows lined the walls, giving them a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline and Grand Central Park. Three immense, oval chandeliers provided a sea of crystal that sparkled across the ceiling, softening the interior from the dramatic landscape outside.
The dining area was decorated in colors that either matched or complimented those of the company’s magazine cover. An extraordinary feat when considering purple tanzanite and polished platinum were difficult to replicate in flowers and fabric. But it looked beautiful, tastefully done with the utmost attention paid to every detail.
The main skirting of each table was a deep black-raspberry and the overlay drape a dovetail grey. Floral centerpieces embellished the overall look with an array of fragrant blossoms to include freesia, larkspur, lisianthus and eryngium.
Place cards at each setting made it clear people were grouped by department, so everyone sat near those they worked with. And just as Spike spotted his with Buffy’s beside it, a high pitched squeal of laughter speared his eardrums like a skewer. Turning his head towards the source of the deafening noise made him wish he hadn’t. Standing thirty feet behind him was Harmony, looking tackier than a bloody birthday cake in her cotton candy pink dress. He mentally grimaced, wondering what level of insanity had led him to invite her into his bed. Indeed, he’d sooner eat tripe than to ever again consort with a slut of her caliber.
He gently patted Buffy’s hand, more than grateful she came into his life, especially when she turned her pretty face to reward him with her warm smile.
“Come on, pet. Found our table. I’ll seat you then fetch whatever you fancy to drink?”
“Nothing alcoholic for me, thanks. But I could use a Diet Coke if you don’t mind?”
Giving her a wink, he escorted her forward and pulled the chair out for her, making sure she was situated comfortably before heading to the makeshift bar near the entrance of the room.
There were waiters and waitresses everywhere of course, bustling back and forth serving cocktails and hors d’oeuvres to the guests who chose to remain seated, but he didn’t mind making the personal trip to get his girl whatever she wanted. Plus it gave him a chance to thoroughly scope the place out, see if he could spot Liam or any of the other executives he knew he’d have to chat with before he could rightly excuse himself from the social niceties and focus solely on Buffy.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke and a dirty martini, please?” he asked the bartender, his eyes still scanning the room.
“Spike?”
Knowing he recognized that voice, he whipped his head around. “Willy? What’re you doin’ workin’ here, mate?” And why was he wearing Armani?
“Not working, just helping a friend out until dinner starts.” Watching the Brit’s eyes narrow in confusion, he elaborated. “I know just about everyone in this city from the big wigs to the lowest of… well, you know. Anyway, the manager saw me come in and asked if I could teach his staff how to make a proper Manhattan among other drinks,” he joked. “Take it the Diet Coke is for Buffy?”
“Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, it is.” His mind was still trying to wrap itself around seeing the bloke here and the fact he was actually a guest. “Sooooo, who’s your date?” Curiosity got the better of him when the short man winked conspiratorially. “If I may ask.”
“Someone you know, but…” He sighed, the mirth leaving his eyes. “Much as I like her, I can tell that what she’s searching for, she ain’t gonna find it in me.”
“Well, color me confused.” The sparkle returned in Willy’s face along with a chuckle.
“So you’re speaking in Buffy language these days?” Sobering from his laughter, he held up a hand. “Never mind, bad joke.” Yup, the peroxide kid had a severe case of the Buff-ies. “You’ll find out soon enough, kid. Now take these and get back to her. I’ll see ya soon.” He walked away, leaving the boy standing there with a dumbfounded look.
With no other choice but to take his drinks and leave, Spike turned to slowly make his way back towards his table. He noticed a sound system was set up on the far side of the banquet hall and a space cleared for about fifty couples to dance at the same time with plenty of elbow room left over. The thought of dancing with his girl instantly put a bounce in his step. His plan, his goal to sweep her off her feet - both metaphorically and literally – was, after all, his main priority for this evening. By the end of the night, she would be his… and of her own volition, he’d make bloody well sure of that.
Wading through a tightly circled group of men dressed like penguins and talking rather loudly, he literally growled when emerging on the other side, turning a few heads his way. He didn’t notice their curious stares and even if he did, he wouldn’t have cared. His eyes were zeroed in on his girl being embraced by Angel in a hug that was lasting too long for his liking as he quickened his pace.
They broke apart right before he reached them, but Angel didn’t let go of her hands and all he could do was stand there, mute and waiting to be noticed as he listened to Captain Forehead’s sickening, counterfeit sympathy speech.
“I can’t tell you how very, very sorry I am, Buffy. If I’d known any earlier, I would have sent flowers for the ceremony or-or a card, seen to anything you might have needed yourself. If there’s anything at all I can still do don’t hesitate t-”
“It’s fine… really.” She withdrew her hands from his, turning to face Spike with watery eyes and a half smile before whispering, “Everything’s fine now.”
The hostility bunching every muscle fiber in Spike’s being relaxed when she looked at him. What he heard was something entirely different than what she’d said, a separate message unspoken yet loud and clear. His only concern now was for the unshed tears that pooled beneath her long lashes.
That was before a twinge of aggravation seized him that Angelus was the cause of his girl’s misty green depths with his very poorly timed apologies. The pillock had no shame, no conscience; his intention nothing more than to get ‘near’ her by preying on her emotions, her recent loss. Spike never felt such disgust towards another person in his life.
“I see,” Angel replied, and indeed he did. He’d read the exchange of their glances… accurately, and realized - with a degree of amusement - what he was up against would be a unique challenge to his skills.
“Well, then. Save me a dance?” Buffy’s small nod was the only answer he received… that and a dangerous glare from William. He would have passed it off if it hadn’t held a hint of genuine warning on a level he’d never seen from the boy. Yes, seemed he’d have to dig further into his arsenal if he was going to win this bet, especially since the stakes had risen. “See you around, Willy.”
As soon as Angelus walked away, Spike set their drinks down and immediately put his arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “Hey,” he spoke softly. “We can leave if you want, pet.” She shook her head, sniffing loudly to suck up her tears. “Tactless, insensitive prick,” he muttered under his breath as he watched the retreating form of said prick get lost in the crowd.
“It’s okay, I’m sure he meant well. I’ll stay.”
Angelus never meant anything that didn’t benefit him somehow in the end, but he bit his tongue for her sake. “Alright, luv. But if you change your mind, jus’ say the word and we’re outta here.”
“Thanks.” Collecting herself, she braved a kiss to his cheek, uncaring of whoever might happen to see her.
Not long after they sat down, everyone around them began taking their seats as well. Spike surmised it was because dinner would soon be served, and checking his watch confirmed it. As expected, Cordelia joined them with her bright smile and a cheerful ‘hello’. But neither he nor Buffy could have possibly prepared themselves for who took up the chair situated between himself and Cordy… none other than Willy himself, smiling away as if there wasn’t an elephant present in the room.
“Cordy?” Buffy tried to cover up her shock by going for small talk. “That’s not the dress you bought for tonight when we went shopping,” she accused with humor after noticing.
“I know. That gown is so two weeks ago, though.”
She chuckled knowingly. “Leave it to you to be all with the latest.”
And as the two friends gossiped, Willy leaned towards Spike’s ear. “Know what you’re thinking, Sport, and you’re not wrong. But like I said, she ain’t gonna find it in me.”
“Not sure what to… to say to that, mate. Gotta admit though, never would have-”
“Guessed I came here with her?” Raising an eyebrow after interrupting, he boasted. “Trust me. Ole Willy knows everyone better than they know themselves. Watch and learn, kid, I’ll set her on the right path before tonight’s over.”
“If you say so,” he remarked casually.
“Speaking of paths, destiny or fate if you prefer…”
The two men continued their conversation until the appetizer portion of the five course meal was brought out, silencing any further discussion.
Once dessert was finished, servers hurriedly removed all the tableware while Liam O’Connor walked over to the sound system and grabbed a microphone to begin his speech.
He kept it brief, thanking his employees for all their hard work and dedication but all Buffy heard was blah, blah, blah until he told everyone to dance and make merry. She made with the ‘golf clap’ during the applause; sighing when the music started and people began getting up to converse with other guests.
“I suppose it’s time to mingle, huh?” she asked, sounding none too thrilled.
“Shouldn’t take long, pet. There are a few people I have to make nice with then maybe after a couple `f dances we can leave.”
“Ughh, do we have to dance?” she whined, thinking they could leave even sooner if they cut that part out. Spike’s response was to cock his head to the side and pout deeply, topping off the look with sad puppy dog eyes that made her insides melt.
“You sayin’ you don’ wanna dance with me?”
“Yes, I-I mean no, er... Well-” She laid her hand over his where it rested on his thigh and smiled. “-as long as it’s with you, I’d… I’d love to.” With him looking at her the way he was, she couldn’t refuse him even if she’d wanted to, which she so didn’t.
From beneath the table, he took her hand in his, lightly stroking the top with his thumb as he raised it towards his lips. “It’d be my pleasure,” he said in a silken tone, eyes boring into hers as he lowered his head.
His warm breath floated across her flesh in a whispery caress, and she shuddered as his mouth gently brushed her knuckles… back and forth… slowly. The azure gaze fixed on hers darkened to pure sapphire the moment he deposited a lingering kiss, his sinful bottom lip leaving a small trace of moisture on her skin. But he didn’t stop there, oh no. He trailed his way down her middle finger, the tip of his tongue peeking out to graze the full length of it then back up again, creating tingles of fire that shot straight to her womb which tightened into an aching ball of need.
It was a bold move on his part, yes, but she stirred such… unfathomable things from deep within his soul, moved him in ways he never imagined, didn’t know were possible, defied logic, explanation and definition. She consumed him, and he was helplessly, hopelessly lost. Blind to those around him, he poured all his emotions, desire and love for her through the innocent yet intimate gesture, composed as a prelude to the infinite possibilities of their future and the bliss it would assuredly bring.
“Oh, for the love of Gucci, get a room,” Cordelia huffed, rolling her eyes. Then curving her lips in a sarcastic grin, she pointed out, “Oh wait, that’s right, you don’t have to.”
“Cordy!” Buffy squeaked, snatching her hand away from Spike to sit ramrod straight.
“Puleez. The UST is so heavy between you two it’s going to suck all the air from the room if you don’t take it home.”
Placing her elbows on the table, Buffy buried her face in her hands while Spike simply sat back and chuckled. “OH, my-God, Cordy. Have you no couth?”
“I think it, I say it. That’s my way,” she replied, her attitude blasé.
However comical Willy found the situation, he felt bad for Buffy and decided to try and distract Cordelia from making the atmosphere any more awkward for the blonde. “So whaddya say we dance, Beautiful?”
“You can dance?” she asked enthusiastically.
“With the best of them, Toots.”
“Oooo, let’s go then. I just love Michael Bubble,” she gushed when hearing the song ‘Sway’ begin to play.
Buffy peeked between her fingers to ask Spike, “Is she gone yet?”
“Yeah, pet, she’s gone.” He stifled the desire to laugh, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it. “Let’s get our socializin’ started, yeah? Try and wrap it up in half an hour so we can hit the dance floor?”
“Sounds good.” Anything to take her mind off her humiliation, and why-oh-why couldn’t Spike have the decency to look at least a little embarrassed? Probably because Cordy was right, she answered herself. The difference between them? Spike handled hearing the truth like it was nothing more than listening to the evening weather report while she reacted as if she’d accidentally turned the channel to late night ‘skinemax’, scrambling with the remote in an effort to turn it off.
~~~*~~~
It was taking a lot more than thirty minutes as Buffy and Spike were still walking around to chat with various employees and their spouses. But they stuck side by side as agreed even if others engaged them in separate conversations now and then.
When Spike turned his back in order to speak with someone, though, she felt the sudden need for some space. The perma-smile she’d worn for over an hour now was seriously making the muscles in her jaw ache. So she slinked away to a spot devoid of people near the windows so she could relax.
Tuning out the chatter that filled the room, she stood there gazing at the night sky while listening to music from the likes of Wynton Marsalis, Harry Connick Jr. and Norah Jones, so lost in her own private thoughts that when a pair of arms encircled her waist, she let out a startled ‘eeep’ of surprise.
“Easy, kitten, `s jus’ me,” Spike reassured, smiling when she relaxed against him. “Was wonderin’ where you’d ran off to.”
“Sorry about that. I just… needed a breather.”
Turning their bodies around to face the crowded ballroom, he sighed heavily. “No worries, luv, I jus’ have a few more blokes I need…”
But she didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, her attention immediately zoning in on a man that was currently coming towards them.
“..can go home. Buffy?” She grabbed his hand that still rested on her hip; crushing it in a death grip at the same time he could feel her entire body go rigid against him. “Buffy? Baby, wha’s wrong?”
Panicked, she rushed through her explanation in a hushed tone. “O’ Connor is coming this way. He was beyond drunk during the last company function I attended and made a blatant sexual pass at me. The way he looked at me after I refused him really gave me the creeps. He really scares me. Spike, please don’t leave me alone with him, please?” she begged.
Hearing her say that came as no surprise and he couldn’t help mumbling, “Runs in the family.”
“What was that?”
“Tha’s why he’s divorced, pet,” he replied rather than repeat what he’d really said. “Man can’ keep it in his pants.” Buffy shivered slightly, so he tightened his hold to her in a reassuring gesture. “If we give him the impression we’re involved, he won’ try anythin’, I promise you.” Which was true. Liam treated him like a son, even more so than his own son, and therefore wouldn’t tread on what he believed to be Spike’s territory.
“You can’t be serious!” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Won’t he disapprove of-of… an office relationship?”
Spike shook his head. “We’ve known each other for years, pet. I’ll tell you the… the whole story. Soon.” He felt relieved knowing he finally could. If he’d tried to tell her two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have believed a word of it. “For now, jus’ follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” But her expression suggested she wasn’t convinced. “Hey,” he whispered, lifting her chin with his fingers to look her in the eyes. “Trust me, Buffy. I would never let anythin’ happen to you.”
“Okay then.”
After she agreed, he kissed her cheek and smiled. “`S show time, pet.”
“What?”
Hearing Liam’s voice sliced through her confusion. She faced forward, still clutching Spike’s hand and plastered a happy grin on her face when he leaned his head against hers. Happy couple look. I can do that. She could definitely do that.
"So! Can I assume this is my sales department’s wonder team?” Spike nodded, confirming it with a ‘yes, Sir’. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he exclaimed before his eyes wandered over Buffy’s form with a roguish glint. “Except… I don't believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the better half." The older man winked at her. "I would definitely remember a lovely lady such as yourself."
The man seriously needs to lay off the sauce, though she was glad he didn’t remember her, and ewww! When he took her free hand to kiss it, she wanted to gag… when he decided not to let it go, she swore she tasted bile rising up her throat. He needed to attend one of those meetings, if they even had a group out there for his type, sexaholics anonymous maybe? Yup, she could see it now, ‘hi, my name is Liam and I’m an over-aged phallocratic pig’.
“Liam,” Spike cut in to get his attention. “Good to see you again. This is my assistant, Miss Elizabeth Summers. Although…” he paused to give her waist a noticeable squeeze and a sidelong suggestive look no man could mistake the meaning of. “With her many… talents, I consider her my… partner. Isn’ that right, kitten?”
Geez, can he lay it on any thicker? But at least Liam let go of her hand. “Oh, yes. Mr. Giles and I have learned many, many things from each other,” she cooed salaciously. She thanked God Spike was right when he said this would work, plus it didn’t hurt she enjoyed the feel of his strong, protective arms around her.
“That’s… great, very good, yes.”
But just as quickly as Buffy relaxed when she saw understanding dawn in the Irishman’s eyes, he had to go and ask Spike for permission to dance with her.
Before he could answer, however, the Great Poof himself suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
“Sorry, Pops, but the lady promised me a dance earlier tonight. Isn’t that right, William?” Holding his hand out, he waited for Buffy to take it.
“Don’ rightly remember, mate,” he all but gritted through his teeth, causing Liam to glance back and forth between the two men, a disappointed look on his face.
Sensing the trouble that was brewing, Buffy hastened to diffuse it by placing her hand in Angel’s. “Shall we, Mr. O’Connor?” She knew Spike hated him with a passion, but he had nothing to fear. Her interests were invested in him… and him alone.
“Of course, Miss Summers.” Angel held her hand up and placed the other on her lower back to escort her.
Throwing Spike an apologetic look, she told him, “You’re next, Mr. Giles,” then added to herself, I’m just saving the best for last.
As they walked away, Spike was seething with frustration that he had to refrain from saying what he wanted because of where they were.
“When will you two learn to get along?” Liam asked, shaking his head back and forth, already knowing the answer.
~~~*~~~
Seconds after they began dancing, Buffy could tell something was troubling Angel. He had a spaced out, expressionless look about him. “Are you alright?”
“Huh?”
Maybe it was the way Spike had spoken to him just moments ago that bothered him. After all, she knew Angel to be the sweet, sensitive type. “If this is about William, I wouldn’t let it get to you. He’s harmless.”
“Actually… that’s where you’re wrong.”
“Excuse me?” What on earth was he talking about?
“As a friend, your friend, I’m concerned about you,” he sighed heavily, furrowing his brow so his ‘worry’ seemed authentic. And judging from the puzzlement written on her face, she bought it. I should have been an actor, he mused.
“What do you mean… concerned?”
“It’s true he doesn’t like me, but it’s because he knows that I know how he operates when it comes to girls… specifically you. And he feels threatened by that.” Huh. She seemed unfazed by this… not what he expected.
“Really? Do tell,” she encouraged him in a neutral voice; though she doubted he’d say anything she wasn’t aware of.
“You two may live together, but you haven’t known him as long as I have. He’s a real playboy, Buffy.”
Yup, check one, nothing new there, though she made sure to maintain her impartial composure, just to see how he’d respond when she told him, “Oh, I already know he was a womanizer.”
“Was?” he asked in mock disbelief, pausing when she didn't appear the least bit persuaded.
“Buffy, I don’t think you understand how relentless he can be when pursuing someone,” he pressed. But she still looked unconvinced even with this information.
“I know Spike takes a head on approach, trust me. The first time we met, he was very upfront about his intentions… and quite persistent,” she countered with a hint of humor as she remembered that night at Willy’s.
“And did it work?” Seeing her shake her head in the negative, he continued. “Spike has… many methods for going after what he wants, or who he wants, I should say.” Time for history lesson… with just an itty-bitty twist. “Having witnessed it many times before in the past, I can tell you with confidence what technique he’ll use on you next. That is… if he hasn’t already.” She looked totally confused, which was the perfect breeding ground for him to plant the seeds of doubt.
This brought Buffy up short, made her wonder just what Angel had seen. “So what technique has he used with me then?” She was curious about his ‘advanced knowledge’ of Spike, but chose not to divulge anything about their current relationship.
“He’s probably molded himself to you, learned what makes you tick, said whatever he thinks you most want to hear, done things for you or bought gifts, taken his time in slowly getting close to you, earning your trust. And once he knows he has it… he’ll pounce. He’s not what he appears to be, Buffy, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s why I’m telling you this.” Okay, so he pretty much just described himself versus Spike, but if it worked…
Buffy froze inside as she digested this news. Angel had described Spike’s actions almost to a ‘T’.
He wanted to smirk with self satisfaction, take a bow when he saw the uncertainty that clouded her eyes. And the Oscar goes to...
“`Scuse, me, mate.” Spike clasped Angelus’ shoulder in a firm grip. “Sure you don’ mind if I cut in. Do you?” He formulated the question like an announcement with a dash of threat thrown in by squeezing the pillock with his hand. And when he stepped away from Buffy to politely say ‘she’s all yours’, he couldn’t resist leaning in to whisper, “Best not forget it either.” He didn’t care what Angelus thought, whether he believed Buffy was still some cheap bet. All he cared about was getting him as far away from her as possible, knowing how manipulative he could be.
Grateful to see him, Buffy beamed when Spike pulled her into his arms dramatically in a proper dance pose and tilted his head to one side, giving her a winning smile.
“Miss me, luv?”
“Maybe,” she kidded him. But upon seeing that irresistible pout, she confessed, “Okay, okay, I did. Very much.”
“Tha’s my girl,” he winked while swaying her to the beat of the music.
Buffy bit her lower lip as she ducked her head under his blue gaze, a telling blush creeping into her cheeks after hearing him call her that. “Th-thanks for saving me from the O’Connor clan by the way.”
“You’re most welco… wait, clan you say? Meanin’ both `f them?”
“Yeah. Liam for obvious reasons and Angel because… well he said some things about you that frankly I just-”
“Whoa, pet. Stop right there,” he said sternly and stilled their bodies, leaning away from her at the waist slightly. “I need you to believe me when I say Angelus is not to be trusted.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off with an uncompromising gleam in his eyes and a severe tone. “I mean it, Buffy. You know first hand how Liam is and `m not exageratin’ when I say like father, like son.” Seeing her wary and on edge from his vehemence, he pleaded softly for her to understand. “Please jus’… trust me on this, sweetheart.”
“I-I do,” she stuttered, wondering who she was trying to convince more… him or herself. Angel had hit on some truths, and she wasn’t sure if it was just coincidence, dumb luck on his part or, if he what he’d told her was what he’d truly seen before. She wanted to believe Spike, she really did, but the biggest question she had still weighed heavy on her mind… could she entrust him with her heart?