What? No. She-- I can handle her.

[No he couldn't. Not with his chip like it was. Still, he felt that wasn't entirely true. Something about that time...?]

Look, never you mind about the Slayer. She's my concern. Just...

[His finger tapped on the bottle, Spike taking in a deep breath that let him smell the mingled smoke, sweat, perfume, and sex in the air. He could smell John under all of it, tongue tapping at the point of one of his teeth as he looked over at him.]

So I was 'good' in bed? Just good? Way to hit below the belt, Wicked.