'I wash the streets from your skin,
When you come home.'
"Hey."
The sound of her voice cause Spike to trip over his shoes as he entered the darkened apartment. His eyes found hers and he grinned sheepishly, "Mornin'."
Buffy unfolded herself from the window seat and, her eyes still on him, moved towards the kitchenette, "Where were you? I was worried ..."
Spike shrugged noncommittally, "Nowhere important, love."
"Oh," Buffy turned the percolator on, watching as the brown coffee began to drip, "Right. You've been going nowhere important for the last three weeks."
Spike frowned, "Why can't you just trust me on this?"
"I do trust you, I just wish," Buffy shut the percolator off and poured herself some coffee before replacing the pot and restarting the coffee maker, "that I didn't have to do it like this."
"Like what?" Spike moved into the kitchenette, dropping his leather duster on the old couch as he went, "Unconditionally?" His eyes narrowed.
"No!" She slammed her mug down on the counter, the coffee sluicing over the edge of the cup, "I wish I didn't have to do it when it entails you sneaking out of my bed in the dead of night without so much as a good-bye. For three weeks straight!"
At her response, Spike seemed to deflate, his face becoming weary. He continued across the kitchenette to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring her when she turned her mouth from his, "Look at me, love."
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. The pale blue-grey orbs above her darkened, and she felt herself drowning in the intensity residing there, "There is only you, Summers. I'm so far gone in you that nothing, absolutely nothing, could change the way I feel. I love you, Buffy. There is no one else. Never will be."
At his words Buffy felt the tension leaving her body, and her arms uncrossed themselves from in front of her chest, her hands coming to rest on his forearms, "Tell me where you're going, please, Spike."
He frowned and shook his head, "I can't yet, love. You're just going to have to trust me on this one."
With one last searching glance at his eyes she sighed, acquiescing. A faint smile flickered across Spike's face. His hand cupped her face, smoothing back her stray hair as he leaned in closer to her, "I missed you."
His mouth brushed against hers, slowly at first, then more intensely as their passion rose. Buffy opened her mouth to him and he moaned, his tongue meeting hers teasingly.
He pulled away slowly, their foreheads resting against the each other's, their eyes searching, "Still my girl?"
Buffy managed a small smile before leaning in to kiss him tenderly once more on the mouth, "Always."
'I wash the streets from your skin,
When you come home.'
When you come home.'
"Hey."
The sound of her voice cause Spike to trip over his shoes as he entered the darkened apartment. His eyes found hers and he grinned sheepishly, "Mornin'."
Buffy unfolded herself from the window seat and, her eyes still on him, moved towards the kitchenette, "Where were you? I was worried ..."
Spike shrugged noncommittally, "Nowhere important, love."
"Oh," Buffy turned the percolator on, watching as the brown coffee began to drip, "Right. You've been going nowhere important for the last three weeks."
Spike frowned, "Why can't you just trust me on this?"
"I do trust you, I just wish," Buffy shut the percolator off and poured herself some coffee before replacing the pot and restarting the coffee maker, "that I didn't have to do it like this."
"Like what?" Spike moved into the kitchenette, dropping his leather duster on the old couch as he went, "Unconditionally?" His eyes narrowed.
"No!" She slammed her mug down on the counter, the coffee sluicing over the edge of the cup, "I wish I didn't have to do it when it entails you sneaking out of my bed in the dead of night without so much as a good-bye. For three weeks straight!"
At her response, Spike seemed to deflate, his face becoming weary. He continued across the kitchenette to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring her when she turned her mouth from his, "Look at me, love."
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. The pale blue-grey orbs above her darkened, and she felt herself drowning in the intensity residing there, "There is only you, Summers. I'm so far gone in you that nothing, absolutely nothing, could change the way I feel. I love you, Buffy. There is no one else. Never will be."
At his words Buffy felt the tension leaving her body, and her arms uncrossed themselves from in front of her chest, her hands coming to rest on his forearms, "Tell me where you're going, please, Spike."
He frowned and shook his head, "I can't yet, love. You're just going to have to trust me on this one."
With one last searching glance at his eyes she sighed, acquiescing. A faint smile flickered across Spike's face. His hand cupped her face, smoothing back her stray hair as he leaned in closer to her, "I missed you."
His mouth brushed against hers, slowly at first, then more intensely as their passion rose. Buffy opened her mouth to him and he moaned, his tongue meeting hers teasingly.
He pulled away slowly, their foreheads resting against the each other's, their eyes searching, "Still my girl?"
Buffy managed a small smile before leaning in to kiss him tenderly once more on the mouth, "Always."
'I wash the streets from your skin,
When you come home.'