I can't. [He unconsciously takes a small step backwards. It hurts to say because it's not that he physically can't - he just won't. Because nothing gets to him like Buffy. Nothing else can possibly do what she does, the way she gets under his skin, crawls through his veins, lifts his soul, eviscerates him from the inside out.
Nothing makes him happy like the possibility of spending one more moment with Buffy, one blink of an eye in the span of almost three hundred years that would utterly ruin him and destroy them both.
He won't make eye contact with Faith. Wants to be the rock she can count on, doesn't want her to see the hurt. The floor is infinitely more interesting.]
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Nothing makes him happy like the possibility of spending one more moment with Buffy, one blink of an eye in the span of almost three hundred years that would utterly ruin him and destroy them both.
He won't make eye contact with Faith. Wants to be the rock she can count on, doesn't want her to see the hurt. The floor is infinitely more interesting.]
People around here have enough to worry about.