"I don't exactly have a source anymore," Sam informed her, fingers gripping at the edge of the window frame as he leaned closer. He didn't want to move away from her again, so he held his ground this time. As long as she didn't try to make him feel better for what he had gotten himself into, as much as he wanted it, then he wouldn't move. He needed this. The cold, the distance. It scared him to death, but it was what he thought he deserved. Just like he thought that Faith deserved better. But here they were. She was taking him back and only God knew why. Sam was afraid to ask her himself in fear that she might end up reevaluting the situation and decide to change her mind. "You won't find me all screwed up on it again." The thought was depressing. He wanted some. He wanted some now.
"I'll tell you whatever you want." He would. Sam wouldn't like it, but it was an important step toward being more honest with her. She had to know that he wasn't going to hide anymore. "But only when you really think that you're ready for it." He was serious about that too. Throwing all of that at her at once when she couldn't handle it? It was a bad idea. Very, very bad.
"And I'm serious about that, Faith. Don't ask until you think you can really handle it 'cause I don't want to - I don't know how you'll take it all." Badly. Probably very badly. The exact imagery wasn't going to help matters at all.