SPIKE
So what should I call you then?
"Pet?" "Sweetheart?"

He corners her, his face up to hers. He touches her hair.

SPIKE (cont'd)
"My little Goldilocks?"

He runs his fingers through her locks, twirling the ends.

SPIKE (cont'd)
Y'know, I love this hair. The way it
bounces around when you --

Buffy's hand finds the spatula and she takes a swing at him. He grabs her wrist.

SPIKE (cont'd)
Uh-uh. This flapjack's not ready
to be flipped.

Buffy squints at him. His other hand reaches below frame.

BUFFY
Um, what the hell's that me-- ohh.

Against her will, she lets out a slight, soft moan.

SPIKE'S HAND rubs her thigh, moves up toward her hips.

BUFFY (cont'd)
(hushed)
Stop it.

ON SPIKE as he reacts to something and glances down. Then, looks back to Buffy with a somewhat bemused expression.

XANDER (0.S.)
Good Godfrey Cambridge, Spike...

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