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Neapolitan spaghetti, a salad in the fridge, and a brand new bottle of wine. Buffy's house was overly warm, even with four windows open to let in fresh air the oven still managed to make the kitchen feel like a sauna.

She sighed as she opened the freezer door and a rush of iciness hit her cheeks. Inside, there was gelato and a chocolate cream pie for dessert. Closing herself off from the frost, she grabbed a fresh dishtowel and went to the sink.

Drying the dripping utensils and plates she'd washed, Buffy thought again on the question she'd been asking herself all day. It was unfortunate that she didn't know why, but obviously, she was working much harder on this dinner than she wanted to be. Pleasing Willow and the new clients was important. She did want tonight to go well. A new tablecloth sat beneath her good kitchenware on the candlelit dining room table. Her home was spotless, she'd done her best on the food, and now she was dressed up. It looked like she would make a good impression.

The issue was, Buffy knew she was trying too hard to make that good impression. She honestly didn't want to entertain her expected guests. She felt like she was pushing herself just to avoid accepting that, because ordinarily, nothing stopped Buffy Summers from doing her best when it came to anything work related.

Lifting the wet cutting board out of the dish rack, her hands moved on autopilot as she dried it. If Buffy was to be honest with herself, she could say that the reason for her deep indifference to this evening was because of a certain missing person on her back doorstep.

She couldn't get the idiot out of her head.

Buffy didn't like to consider the possibility that maybe she was missing her stupid mate, yet every moment longer he stayed away, the worse she felt. A heart wasn't supposed to race as your stomach did flips unless you were on a roller coaster or falling in love. She was sick and dizzy every other hour.

But that wasn't why she miss- Had an urge to see him. The nameless lawn ornament with fangs was on her mind all the time, and it certainly wasn't because she enjoyed thinking about the unrealistic and unbalanced future that loomed whenever he was around. Neither was it because of the physical negatives of his absence. Some other factor had Buffy looking out into her backyard every other minute, and not dwelling on whatever it was, seemed much better than dwelling. As a matter of fact, that probably had something to do with her over ambitious dinner display.

She put the final clean plate away and then hung the towel to dry, her eyes drawn to the open window above the sink.

She walked to the backdoor and stared out into the night, her gaze trained on the tree surrounded by browning flower petals and lush green grass that needed mowing. Her heart thumped steadily. She just knew he wasn't out there.

The doorbell rang and yanked her concentration back. Buffy sighed, then tore herself away from the view of the magnolia.

***

Her guests told her how delicious the meal was, laughter surrounded her like a cloud of mist, the wine poured and candles flickered over the couples' faces.

That's right. Couples.

Buffy gripped the stem of her full glass, smiling tightly at a joke that was made and then quickly forgotten.

Willow set her up. She'd set this up. Buffy was beside Riley Finn, trying not to notice the glances he kept making from her left, while Willow and her husband- informally known as "Oz" -sat across from them. It all reminded Buffy of how sneaky people could be when you allowed them the opportunity.

Mr. Finn's sister had cancelled. Buffy, of course, was not privy to this information until her boss announced it just after walking through the front door.

Buffy finally took a large gulp of the White Zin in her glass. *Devious matchmaker,* she thought to herself, giving Willow an icy side glance.

This was a date. A planned, intimate double date. She had been duped.

And God she wanted to hit something.

Reaching for her plate- and an excuse to leave the room -Buffy gathered hers, then Oz's, Willow's, and finally Mr. Finn's dirty dishes and stood up straight.

"Buffy," the man with the wide smile and big shoulders looked at her from where he sat, "would you like some help?"

"Oh no," she quickly assured, "I'm just going to put these in the kitchen and get the coffee going."

He started to stand. "I insist-"

"It's really a one person job," she interrupted. The silence that followed had her biting the inside of her cheek. "You're a guest. I wouldn't feel right making you help."

On that, she left through the swinging door that connected kitchen and dining room.

Not soon after she had scraped the dishes clean and placed them in the sink, Willow waltzed in with empty glasses.

"Now what will my date think," Buffy said distinctly, without turning around, "if I let you help me in here but won't let him leave his chair?"

Willow put the three wineglasses in the sink beside the plates. "I told him I'm not really a guest in this house, I've been here plenty of times." The redhead beamed. "So, do you think you like him?"

Buffy fought not to roll her eyes, and instead, headed towards the cabinet where she kept her coffee. Her black high heels tapped against the tile with a little extra power that went unnoticed by her meddling boss.

Buffy never answered the question. She just opened a container of Folgers and started dumping scoops into the coffeemaker.

"Buffy?"

She grit her teeth at the kindly inquiring tone before turning around. "Is there really any remodeling going on at your place?"

Willow blinked. "W-Well of course. Why wouldn't there be?"

"It's a good excuse to get this dinner set up at my house, and have me cook. Put on an interview for our new client."

"Buffy... I swear there is remodeling being done at my house, okay?" Willow promised, frowning and looking something like a disappointed puppy. "I even offered to move this dinner there. I wasn't lying about anything."

"Okay." Buffy frowned and put her hands on her hips after she closed the lid on the coffeemaker and it started to gurgle, finally facing Willow. "Then how about his sister's cancellation tonight? When did you know she wasn't coming?"

Willow rung her hands together and sighed. "Buffy I- I just wanted to-"

"Set me up. Without asking me if I wanted to be."

"I'm sorry. You just... It's been a long time since you've been out on a date and Riley really seems to like you. He thinks you're smart and attractive-"

"Well, that's nice of him, but I don't need the praise."

Willow flinched at her bitter tone. "I didn't think you'd be so mad," she said, her face scrunching up into an apologetic expression.

Buffy sighed, then took a moment to mentally shake herself. "I'm annoyed, not mad. I just-" She shrugged, and resisted stomping her foot like a five year old. "I don't like being surprised by these kinds of things."

Willow looked defeated, and with regret in her eyes, said, "Okay. I won't do it again."

"Thank you." Buffy turned around with a sigh.

"So you really don't like him?"

Her green eyes squeezed shut and she bit her tongue before a groan could leave her mouth. "No. I don't think... He's not my type."

She didn't catch the look of confusion on Willow's face. The redhead reached for a cupboard handle. "I'll get the mugs for the coffee," she offered.

"Thanks."

In a moment she was gone, and Buffy was left alone with the noise of a coffee drip. She ran a hand through her curled blonde hair, lifting it off her back to rest over her right shoulder. Hopefully tonight would come to a quick end now that she'd gotten her boss off the matchmaker train.

Buffy got the milk from the refrigerator and then grabbed the bowl of sugar she always kept on the counter. Soon, the coffee was done and she could hear the soft laughter of her guests coming from the dining room again.

Buffy ignored the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach while heading to the door. Often, with friends or in a crowd of people, she felt rather out of place, and although this was her home, those currently visiting were not the ones she was most anxious to spend time with.

The one person she had her mind on really wasn't a person at all. His absence being a distraction to her was not anyone's fault but her own.

And his. Completely his fault.

Buffy conjured up a smile as she walked into the dining room, determined to soften the edge of her bad mood a bit. She set both sugar and milk down on the table. Willow and Oz were captured in a conversation wholly their own, eyes glittering fondly at each other, while Mr. Finn smiled at Buffy the moment she approached. She managed to return it before heading back towards the kitchen.

She felt a touch on her wrist just before she pulled her fingers away from the tablecloth, and at a glance, realized Riley had gently set his hold over the top of her hand.

"Dinner was lovely, Buffy," he said graciously. "Do you think it'd be possible for us to do this again sometime?"

She fought not to yank her hand away, blinking repeatedly and trying to conjure words, any words. "Um..."

"Maybe a dinner out together, just... you and me?"

She felt guilty after hearing the nervous request, and even worse knowing what her answer would be. Buffy looked for a way out and smiled unsteadily. "I'm not sure. I-... I have to, uh, get the coffee." She left before he could stop her.

Buffy heard Oz start to speak as the door between the dining room and safety area swung shut, making this perhaps the seventh time he'd said anything at all tonight.

Buffy rubbed her forehead as she went to the counter. The man was a quiet sort, and that's how she knew he was trying to help her out just now. Oz wasn't stupid, and he was a friend. Obviously, he'd figured out that Buffy wasn't interested in Mr. Finn much faster than his wife had.

She couldn't blame Willow, she supposed, but there was a right to be annoyed. Who butted into someone's personal life this way?

*Best friends do, dummy.* Buffy frowned at herself. Reaching for the coffeepot handle, she had to admit that what Willow had tried to do wasn't the evilest thing ever. It had simply annoyed her. She just wasn't attracted to this guy. And there were many plausible, logical reasons not to ever date a client. It was unprofessional, if nothing else-

Her eyes suddenly turned to the backdoor. Buffy frowned and found herself moving closer. Was it the wind perhaps? She swore she'd heard something.

She got closer, coffee forgotten on the counter. The high, pretty sounds of her neighbor's wind chimes rang through the open window above the sink, and her feet moved faster.

She reached the backdoor on a quiet gasp, pressing her palm against the glass. All she saw was darkness out there, but something told her to stay put, look closer, and sure enough... He emerged.

Illuminated just barely by the dim light of the half hidden moon, he stood tall and familiar, dressed in all black and that long duster he seemed to never be without, blonde hair slicked back, dark brows slanted. He came closer when he spotted her, and he kept walking.

Like a gong had been struck, she remembered the people in the other room. Her heart began to beat faster, and Buffy glanced at the hot coffee sitting on the counter.

Her stomach filled with butterflies and she knew she must look frightened or anxious or a combination of the two when her monster stopped approaching. He frowned at her. Question, then worry, followed by indecision, all showed in his eyes, and Buffy realized she had to do something before he did.

Smiling too brightly, she waved at him, which only made him frown harder. Then she poised one finger up, indicating he wait just a minute.

Quickly she disappeared from the window and went to the sink to splash a little water on her forehead and chest, then grabbed the coffee and headed into the dining room.

When she walked in, all three heads turned to her.

Very quickly, she got the reactions she was hoping to get.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Willow asked worriedly, standing up just as her friend set the coffee down. "You look..."

Buffy took a shaky breath and rubbed her head, slowly dropping into the nearest chair, a frown on her features. "I... I don't know."

Willow got closer and soon Buffy was holding her stomach. "I just... suddenly got a horrible headache. I had a couple like this last week but I thought they were gone."

Riley and Oz stood up, offering their own concerns, asking if she wanted to lie down. Buffy told them she didn't want to cut the evening short, but to that, Willow protested that it was late anyhow, and she looked like she could use some rest. Managing to pull off a few more weak shudders and quiet groans of pain, it wasn't long before everyone had made it to the front door.

She let them out and said goodbye, all while massaging three fingers into one of her temples and smiling wanly. When she was closing the door, her hand falling to meet her hip, Riley pressed from the opposite side and stuck his head back inside. "Buffy?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Um, here." He handed her a little slip of paper, turning his voice into a near murmur. "This is my phone number. I- Well, if when you're feeling better, you're not too busy, I'd like you to give me a call sometime."

A little line formed between her brows. "I already have your contact information. I know where to reach you regarding anything that might come up about-"

"This isn't for business," he interjected, a tender smile on his face. "I want... I'd like to spend time with you. Outside the world of pricey Egyptian artifacts."

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She shook her head a little to clear it. "Well, that's a tempting offer Mr. Finn but I- Well..." She sighed and cursed her twisted tongue. Looking up at the man in front of her, she couldn't decide why she wasn't interested. He was cute, tall and well built, kind and polite. He could even be funny at times. There was just... nothing there. "I'm sorry, but... I can't do that."

His face fell, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt. "Right now..." she searched for something truthful, some relatively honest explanation to soothe his ego, "there are some things going on in my life right now that are very... complicated. Things Willow and my sister don't even know about. Things that..." She sighed very heavily. "And I know this sounds like a line but it's not. I'm sorry."

He nodded solemnly. "I understand."

Buffy waited as he backed up onto the front porch again, politely trying to hide the disappointment she still saw in his eyes. "Goodnight, Ms. Summers."

"Goodnight." She held back her sympathetic expression until the door had closed between them. Guilt ridden, but thankful and relieved to be alone, Buffy headed for the kitchen.

Immediately she went to the backdoor, and upon opening it she found herself face to face with her vampire.

His familiar blue eyes looked different. Stormy, darker and angry. Buffy held in a gasp but found herself backing up. Stopping her by moving his arm around her middle, his fingers pressing into the bottom of her spine, the monster leaned in close until she was pulling away.

"What are you-"

"Who was he?"

That question was uttered much too calmly for her nerves. And yes, she realized that seemed contradictory, but there was a coolness to his voice that reminded her of a gentle wind you feel just before a tornado rips through. "He was no one."

Wrong answer. He hauled her against him then moved them both away from the door, pressing her into the side of the house. "The git gave you his number. He was someone."

She felt her anger rise. "And I told him I wasn't interested. That makes him nobody," she said.

His nostrils flared and a severe jaw clench presented itself. "You two weren't alone, I saw the redhead leave with her bloke." He tilted his head. "Seemed a bit like a double date."

"No."

"No?" he quirked a brow.

Buffy looked at his hard mouth and glittering eyes. The frustration he felt was strong but he was controlling it. She wanted to reassure him, but another part of her... the independent, resistant part of her, wanted to push him away. "He is a new client. I work at Wingfield's Auction house and Mr. Finn and his sister are bringing in a new account. This was a business dinner."

"Awfully cozy for a business dinner, pet." He refrained from spitting out the oaf's name like sour milk. *Mr. Finn? Sounds like a bleeding Disney character.*

"Why are you accusing me?" She argued. "I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not interested in him. This was just a dinner my boss made me host." She didn't understand herself. One minute she wanted to see him react like a jealous boyfriend just so she could tell him that he had no right to do so. The next? She was reassuring him that she wasn't interested in someone else.

"There's one thing I've figured out about you," he said plainly, "No one can make you do anything."

She glared at him. "My boss wanted me to have an intimate dinner at my home. I wasn't going to say no."

"Right." The vampire took a short step away. "So, where was his sister tonight then?"

Buffy scowled. "She had to cancel."

"Mighty convenient."

"Will you back off?!" she finally yelled. "This wasn't a date!"

He moved in closer again, leaning forward until their noses just about touched. "I know it wasn't, because that would make you a single lady." He reached for her, and Buffy stilled as his fingers twined around the edges of her hair.

He watched the golden strands twist and move in his hand, pressing and then squeezing them. He'd never seen her hair look like this before, while it was always eye-catching, tonight she had styled it into curls. It shined and the beauty of it was highlighted to those who wouldn't normally bother to notice. She was wearing something different; a dress and sexy little heels that had him thinking impure thoughts. Her lips looked pinker and her eyes were defined. His mate was beautiful, stunning, and she looked damn good all dolled up or just wearing sweats and a tank top.

Another man had seen her this way tonight, and had been equally impressed. For a moment, Spike felt gratefulness for having seen her at her most relaxed and casual when others had not. Yet the reassurance still did not stay long enough for him to forget that she'd welcomed a man inside her home tonight who wanted something from her she could not give.

Not if Spike had anything to say about it, at least. And he always, always would. "Goldilocks, you're not a single lady. You're taken- Or at least, you will be, but until then I don't plan on letting any preppy young boys with wandering hands get near you."

He watched her eyes narrow, and barely had time to recognize the little spark of fondness he felt at realizing he was going to get a glimpse of her fire tonight, before she was yelling at him. "There were no wandering hands- But even if there were, who gets 'near me' is none of your business!"

"Wrong," he growled.

"No! Right. I am completely right here, okay Dracula?" He winced at the name, and it only fueled her. "I'm not your girlfriend, your wife, or even dating you for that matter. You show up on my doorstep when you feel like it, keep me up late and ruin my business dinners! You and I are not-"

He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pressed against her. Buffy suddenly felt a fire seep into her skin, something foreign yet similar to things she'd felt in the past, coiling through her gut. He whispered in her ear, "We are. And you can't do anything about it, baby."

That snide, know-it-all tone of his made her want to hurt him. "I still have Riley's number."

He met her eyes and all of a sudden she felt both serenely calm and incredibly scared. Who knew such a combination existed? That glow in his inhuman gaze made her want to run while the grip of his fingers on her bare arms kept her in place, and not because he was holding on like a lifeline.

Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, consuming them in a kiss like he was trying to steal the breath he didn't need. One of his hands delved into her hair as he pressed her entire body against his.

A mind numbing shock hit, followed by lust and then anger and more lust. She couldn't push him back because although a huge part of her told her that she should, Buffy found out what having a mate meant when it came to the physical aspects. She realized her hands were moving up, but one went only as far as he would allow it, for the clutch on her arm did not loosen. The hand he had in her hair tightened. He had her right up against him, from knees to chest and everywhere in between.

His mouth opened first. He glided the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. He tickled and pressed, and finally she gave in. He tasted like cold whiskey, gentle at first then suddenly hot and burning. She heard herself whimper, and before she knew it, Buffy was too lost to care anymore that he was pushing her lips painfully against her teeth.

Her left leg rose a little higher to allow him room to get nearer. His hips rolled into hers, grinding and wrinkling her dress. All softness vanished like the quarter in a coin trick. He growled and her heart skipped a beat. It was already racing but he seemed to jumpstart her pulse rate when the hand on her arm moved to her face, framing her jaw as their mouths moved together, ravenous and intense. He tilted his head and dove in deeper, licking the insides of her cheeks and behind her teeth.

Buffy's fingers dug into the leather encasing his arms. She started pulling, yanking at the material until his shoulders were uncovered except for a T-shirt, and she ran her hands beneath his sleeves to touch his skin.

He pulled away to give her the air she hadn't realized she needed. His breath hit her lips and gave her chills. She felt his fingers contract in the fist of hair he held, but he didn't pull or yank. "Buffy..." He nipped at her trembling mouth before she looked into his eyes. "There is something here," he said hoarsely, placing one hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Here."

She shuddered, but then he pulled back and put his palm over his own heart. "And here."

Buffy swallowed hard. She understood. She felt the something he spoke of, the emotion... The whatever it was. "The co-connection- The claim-" she stuttered, grasping for an explanation.

"No. I feel that," he cut her off. "I feel this, too," he said gruffly, before diving in again. Kissing her hard and with greed, tongues twining together, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. *Please, no. Don't let this be...*

The spark grew brighter until it became a flame, and then it burned and burned, and it never went out. They both felt it, one reveling, the other scared of its light. The passion had sparked, and they grabbed at each other, writhing together against a wall as craving simmered in their veins.

There was something more between them, something not every couple on earth gets to have. A connection, a chemistry. Want and desire, need, and plain old simple comfort. They could do this, they fit.

It had nothing to do with the claim, it was their own.

Buffy pulled back at the same moment he did. His arms were now around her waist, and there was little more than clothes between them. Buffy rested her forehead against his when she noticed her toes were off the ground. "I don't even know your name," she said dumbly.

He offered a tender smile. "Spike."

"Spike?" She blurted, regaining a smidge of awareness.

He rose an eyebrow. "Knew you'd have something to say about this."

"I knew a dog once named Spike."

"And I have never, in all my years, ever known anybody named Buffy, so let's not throw stones, pet."

She scowled. "It's a funny name."

"Far be it from me to argue with you."

"I meant yours! Not mine."

Spike rolled his eyes and set her down. "Well, it isn't my birth name."

She frowned, but fought off her curiosity. "Really? Hmm."

He tilted his head. "You want to know my given name, Goldilocks?"

She firmed her lips and didn't respond, just looked at her feet.

"It's William."

Her head snapped up, and then she saw vulnerability on his face. He'd just shared something important with her. Buffy took a second to wrap her mind around that...

Spike blinked his eyes open wide when she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle caress, nearly a whisper, but when she pulled away and said, "I like that name," he thought he might finally have gotten an answer to the question he'd been worrying over for the past few weeks.

Could he fall in love with this woman?

"I could also..." she sighed and shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him with her green eyes and warmth he'd never been on the receiving end of before. "I could also get used to Spike."

He swallowed hard. *Already falling, mate.*

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Hey everyone, thank you so so much for the reviews and for reading, I'm really enjoying writing this fic and I hope you're all liking it so far! Please continue to leave reviews, as I've said before they help inspire me, and let me know what you thought of this chapter. (: *hugs!*





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