Eighteen when it started. Eight months of that in the coma Buffy put me in. Nineteen when I went to prison. Feels like lifetimes ago. But it's only been four years.

[She sips from the bottle, offering it out to him if he wants it.] I'm different now. Or trying to be. Buffy doesn't want to hear that though, I know. But it's fresh for her. I've already been through all this with her. Back home. And before I showed up here we were fighting together again. On the same side. Not without butting heads, though.

[They may never get along entirely and that idea does hurt. And she knows she's no one to blame but herself about that.]