“…and he was calling himself Twilight.”
Spike snorted in derision.
“I know, completely lame, right? But I can’t help what my subconscious makes up.” Buffy shrugged, and burrowed deeper beneath the sheets.
“Dents a man’s ego a bit, pet,” Spike said. “Here in my arms after another night of devastatingly good sex and you wake up dreaming of the big poof?” He clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. “That hurts.”
“Oh, however can I make it up to you?”
“I can think of a few ways.”
He started kissing up her neck and she sighed in happiness. “Oh, Twili-”
“Slayer!”