Cinnamon

You smile as she tumbles across your bedroom floor, tripping over the bag she dropped there before. She growls at you as she rights herself, your chuckle ringing across the mirrored closet. The growl is ruined as her mouth curls up into a small smile, her expression turning happy as she sees how hard you're laughing at her fall.

You know with anyone else she wouldn't have smiled. She would have pulled herself back to standing, said something rude and sarcastic, and slammed the door behind her. But it isn't anyone else, it's you, and you seem to make all her anger fade away.

You have a kind of power over her you never expected. She does stupid things to make you laugh, takes you to her secret places just to see you smile. You make her want to be a better person, even though you don't think it could be possible for her to get any better.

You don't exactly know what this power is, and certainly don't know how to use it. Not that it makes a difference if you did know; you'd never purposefully use it.

She pulls herself to her feet, that care-free, indulgent smile still washing over her face as she smiles down at you. When you've finally stopped laughing, and wiped the tears from your cheeks, she shakes her head good naturedly and offers you her hand.

You take it and get pulled from the bed and down the hall, passed lots of opened doors filled with gossiping younger slayers. Down the stairs and out the front door until you find yourself in the passenger seat of her mustang. She's taking you somewhere, but as of yet you haven't said a single word to each other, so you have no idea where.

You don't mind though. She's done this dozens of times, and you've never known where you were going until you actually got there. It's never anywhere bad though; the lake to watch the sunrise, on top of one of the many hills surrounding the city to watch the stars. All places she thinks you like. And you do, but you haven't told her yet that you love those places specifically because she brought you to them.

As the car's travelling along, you turn sideways in your seat, wedging yourself in the corner, so you can watch her as she drives. The moonlight reflects off her flawless skin, making it seem like porcelain and her lips such a deep red that they look like liquid. You wonder, briefly, what they'd taste like. If the faint cinnamon smell that lingers seductively around her is actually what her tongue tastes like. You wonder if you'll ever get to find out.

But then she glances at you, her deep brown eyes looking almost black in the darkness of the car, a small smile tugging at the corners of hers lips, before she turns back to the road.

You fell into those eyes so deeply, and so quickly, even though you only saw them for a second. They had the same effect on you when you were back in Sunnydale. Only this time you see something in them that she's never shown you before.

A peaceful smile crosses your face, because now you know that someday, probably soon, you'll get the chance to find out if those perfect lips actually do taste of cinnamon.