Oh, she suspected. Maybe even a year ago, Jack could have duped her with a lie like that. But not now. Not after she'd had such ample opportunity to study his face in happiness, in desperation, in determination, and -- like now -- in pain. Buffy was at least a half more clever and observant than she ever gave herself credit for, and she had learned him.

But she wasn't his inquisitor. It was late and he was hurting and she...well, she didn't really know what she would do with the truth, anyway. Other than to call an absent girl names that even Buffy realized she didn't deserve.

With a disappointed hum, the Slayer reached for the flask. She balanced it against her chest as she unscrewed its top.

"I wasn't lying when I said you could only have a bit..."