She had to bring up all the puppies and kittens, didn't she? It seemed likely that Spike had spent his entire time racing through the streets at night trying to rescue them all. Animals and old women. Christ, what had he been on, exactly? It couldn't have been magic; there had to be some sort of very strong, very awful drug use involved. It seemed far too unlikely that Spike would ever - well, then again, the last time he had his mind wiped, he thought he was Rupert Giles' son. Maybe it was entirely the amnesia after all. Bloody Powers from Hell...
"Oh, you'll have to live out your days in mourning," Spike replied, keeping up the light conversation for the sake of not ruining the good air between them, "hating all puppies and kittens everywhere, wishing that they'd all up and vanish off the face of the earth. I see a very spiteful future awaiting you." He didn't much mind pinning Buffy down like this. She was more than able to throw him across the room if she wanted to. The fact that she was perfectly content with the way that he was spoke louder than anything she ever could have said to him did. It was encouraging. It spiked up that confidence of his a couple more notches, taking that uncertainty he had about all this and throwing it out of the window. Buffy wanted him. He was gonna make sure she didn't regret it.
"The old lady didn't work out," he told her, rolling his eyes almost instantly at the mention of the unfortunate Old Lady Cane Bashing incident. "Too feisty for me, I'm afraid. You'll just have to keep an eye on those animals." Spike bowed his head forward and kissed her once more, grinning against her mouth gleefully. "Shouldn't be too hard."