Playing pretend -- even playing the austere nursemaid -- was an improvement over her earlier detachment. Buffy had spent a good long while hiding in the newly-emptied bedroom. Not quite wallowing in her sadness but certainly simmering in it. Stealing Jack home gave her something else to focus on.

She plugged in the hot air popper and made a simple can't-mess-it-up honey glaze over one of the burners. Buffy stood near the stove as she waited and worked, leeching up its warmth despite the fact that the rest of the house wasn't all that chilled to begin with.

Dipping her head now and then, she checked on him and his messy progress -- allowing perhaps just a quirk or two at the corner of her mouth.

"Not long now," she promised him as the popper shut off and she carefully drizzles honey and salt into every freshly popped nook and cranny.