Buffy clomps into the store's basement, grousing about last week's looping customer spell. At the bottom of the stairs, she bumps into Spike. She's startled, and tells him to get a bell for his neck. He might as well; he's been her lapdog for long enough. He's there to get some Burba weed. "Stir it in with the blood; makes it all hot and spicy." Tabasco, Spike. Look into it. Get a little celery and you could have a truly authentic Bloody Mary. Especially if the blood came from someone named Mary. Buffy wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes until Spike admits that he was stealing the root. Heh heh. I said "root." She asks him for help locating the mandrake. He shows her and then murmurs, "Feel like a bit of the rough and tumble?" Buffy and I are both shocked. I mean, he had this tone and this look and hey, it was an honest mistake. At Buffy's surprised face, he clarifies that he meant patrolling. Nope, she's staying at the store. Spike shrugs. He had plans: "The Great Pumpkin is on in twenty." Buffy shakes her head. "So much easier to talk to when he wanted to kill me." And so much easier to watch, too.