She hadn't spoken a word, or even tell Spike he was a fool for loving her. Even if that is what she truly believed, because anyone who wasn't Angel would never touch that part of her fully. She knew the feeling of being a pawn in the triangle of love. They were all fools to love those who couldn't return the favor. It was a unwinding whirlpool of chaos that had convinced her to carve out her heart. She honestly had thought about it to - she imagined since she was technically already dead, she didn't need a heart to survive. But if that was true then she shouldn't be able to feel the burdens of love. Maybe it ran deeper to that. She was still new to the forlorn mystery.
"That makes sense." She felt she could really connect to Spike, which was a ironic turn for her, too. They seemed to be in the same boat. "I think they love us, but will never be close to their heart. And - -" She shook her head - starting to feel like she couldn't continue without crying again. "Nevermind."
Maybe it was best to change the subject. They were both starting to look like weak idiots. She hated that feeling, and never felt this pathetic even when she was human. At least she use to have backbone, and wouldn't go down without a fight. She use to shag, dance, and drug herself up - in no particular order either. "Don't you hate me?" After all the stuff she had done to Buffy, she expect he would want to rip her throat out right now.
"I stabbed her you know. Nothing fatal. But we'll never stop trying to kill each other. It's like sibling rivalry." Buffy was like her baby step sister who everyone loved more then her. It was an odd use of an analogy, but she couldn't think of any other way to describe it. "And we won't stop until one of us is dead." And there was only one way to kill a demon of her kind, and judging by their last encounter Buffy still hadn't figured it out yet. So, that helped boost up her confidence momentarily. At least she wouldn't have to worry about any blondes stabbing her to death in her sleep. That tactic was futile in her breed. But it would only be a matter of time before Buffy figured that hoped.
"And I almost killed her twice. So, why are you cutting my throat open with a razor blade. I can bleed pretty colors, but you feel no need to paint the town red tonight."
She moved in front of Spike, gliding her hands up his chest and pushing him ever so slightly, so his back met the brick wall. She laughed vibrantly, which was a unexpected change in personality for the night. "You're a piece of work, William." She pronounced the name once more in her head. William. "Will...Willy. William the fucking bloody has no balls tonight."