Buffy sat at her kitchen table drumming her fingers on her water glass. She stared across the table at Spike waiting for him to speak. "Well?" She tapped her foot impatiently against the floor.
Spike took a long sip from his semi warm blood. He wondered if she would ever figure out the right temperature, but he didn't say anything about it. "Um, it's fine."
Her face dropped. "You hate it."
He just stared at her trying to find a way out of this conversation. He knew he wasn't going to like where it was going. "Luv, I didn't say that."
She folded her arms in front of her chest. "You didn't say you didn't hate it either."
Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to win this. I bloody well know that, so I'm skipping that whole fight bit, and going straight to the apology. I'm sorry for…insert whatever you would like here."
Buffy threw her hands up in the air. "So now I'm not even worth fighting for."
Spike could feel the headache starting. "I would fight for you, but at this moment that's not what this is, and I'm not fighting with you. This isn't an argument."
Buffy slammed her hands down on the table. "Of course this is an argument. If I'm not important enough for you to argue with, then I'm not important to you."
Spike just stared at her completely confused. "Is that strange Summer's logic, or does that have to do with the insane slayer side?"
"Oh, so now I'm insane!" She picked up her glass, threw the contents on him, and stormed off.
Spike calmly stood up, grabbed a dish towel, and dried off. "I knew I fucking bloody hell couldn't win." He spoke softly to no one as he finished drying off.
The End