Everyone has habits.
She had hers.
Taking a book whenever she went to a sleepover. She knew she wouldn't read it, but she took one.
Don't turn around until they're dust.
Her day was stitched together by things she always did. Unconscious things.
She would wake up and stretch her arms over her head. The crook of her left elbow always ached. She always slept with her left arm curled beneath her.
When she put her mascara on it was right eye first. Always with her mouth open, leaning towards the mirror, even thought she could've done it in the dark.
When she put on a necklace she thought of him. When she put on a ring she thought of him. She saw a couple, a heart, the sky, she thought of him.
They were unconscious things.
Almost like breathing.
He didn't need to breath, but he did. A habit that he carried from life. A habit born out of necessity.
He found himself counting the number of steps between lines in the pavement. It was odd, but he kept counting.
The centuries were marked by changing habits.
About one in the habit of cold-blooded murder. Well, warm blooded murder by a being with cold blood.
The then the breaking of the habit. Cold turkey
Guilt is better than a patch.
New habits were born. Brooding. His brooding skills were beautifully honed.
Don't let them know what you're thinking.
A swear word – one Our Father as penance. It started in his head after every obscenity. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name…"
Years, you'd be surprised at how fast they pass. His time with her was like the blink of an eye.
To some.
But still, as he fell asleep he always said goodnight.
To her.
It is the nature of good to love.
To nurture.
To hold and protect.
Our habits are born of out nature.
We are changed by the people we meet.
When she was sad she read poetry. Poetry with neat words like "wilt" and "henceforth". She'd gone back for the book.
He doodled. He'd never doodled B.B. Before her, she sketched. Now, he doodled. The first thing he drew was always a vertical line connected to a three. That's what he told himself.
Line.
Three.
Lying is a bad habit.
Particularly to yourself.
Our natures are who we are.
Made up of our habits.
They were both born in the habit of saving the world.
Of saving people who would never know the evil that was stopped.
Of never being thanked.
They were the Protectors.
Most Habits can be broken.
All it takes is will power.
Angel was in the habit of being in love with Buffy.
Buffy was in the habit of being in love with Angel.
Loving someone is a habit that cannot be broken.
And never should be.