Spike stumbled back a few steps at the push. He took them in stride with a grin. Here they were, tucked away in her room all alone. The thought of wasting his time away in her doorway was downright stupid at best. Reaching around his neck, Spike tugged his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. Not on the floor. The jacket never went on the floor.
Maybe Buffy was special to him because he found her to be so unique from the other Slayers. Maybe it was because she was the only one out there who really understood him for what he was. Whatever the matter, Spike felt like Buffy was all he had. Team Good Guy was fun to watch, but he'd never play with any of them willingly if Buffy wasn't around to make the task more entertaining. Honestly, before she got here, he was sinking away into his own hole of madness, half wishing he could get the hell out of L.A. so that he could track her down properly.
He'd tried before, of course. It didn't go down well at all.
"Impatient, are we?" He reached for Buffy by the waist, half dragging, half insisting that she follow him over to the bed. "S'alright, I like you better that way." And he did. To prove his point, he twisted back and gave Buffy another insistent push toward the bed. "Makes you more fun."