"Good thing the blood ain't ever gonna dry up then, huh?" Sweeney asks as he runs the tape and fills the mug with some water before he sets it on the counter. Then he presses up behind Spike, watching him with the shears, his arm slung loosely around his waist.

"Or any of the rest," he murmurs, pressing his lips to Spike's hair as he speaks. Any of the rest could mean anything, but he thinks Spike will know what he's saying. What he really means.