Smiling slyly, Lilah reached into her elegantly understated purse and withdrew an equally chic and exquisitely designed wallet.

"I'll tell you what. How about I buy us both a bottle of the good stuff, and then you can tell me all about it."

Her eyes sparkled with something like mischief as she beckoned the barman over with a folded hundred,

"You look to me like a girl who appreciates quality."

Before Buffy could even formulate a polite rejection, a shot glass full of suspiciously golden fluid was placed in front of her. As the scent of it reached her nose, she felt her stomach muscles flex in rebellion.

"Oh...God. No. I mean...thank you."

She pushed the drink away with a nauseous grimace. Frowning slightly, Lilah pushed it back.

"Hey, come on! You said you wanted to talk sister, well this is the price of my company. I hate to drink alone."

Tossing back her hair she lifted the glass and, rolling it smoothly across her face, first from one cheekbone to the other then to her lips, she downed it in one. Unable to stop herself, Buffy let out a loud and incredulous laugh.

"Oh my God! Where did you learn to do that?"

Licking the tequila from her lips, Lilah reached for the bottle again before replying.

"My sophomore year at Harvard,"

She grinned darkly as she pushed back the long sleek curtain of her hair with one hand.

"Hence the less than feminine college nickname of 'shooter'."

She shrugged, drawing the next shot in through her lips like it was nectar.

"I suppose it was better than concentrating on my other skills."

Off Buffy's look she smiled again, before leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper,

"I was kind of a slut."

"Oh."

Raising her eyebrows, the younger woman appraised her stylish and conservative appearance before responding,

"Well, if it's any consolation, I wasn't - a slut I mean - and now, looking back?"

She frowned,

"I kinda wish I had been a little more..."

"Whorish?"

Lilah's interjection was flavoured with an odd kind of glee, and squinting sideways at her, Buffy felt the corners of her mouth twisting themselves upwards into a smile.

"No..."

She tapped at the rim of her shot glass with one fingernail, distracted for a moment by the brilliant gold colour of the liquid swirling inside.

"Maybe just a little...free-er with my affections. Not so much with the serious relationship thing."

Lilah nodded slowly, and Buffy found herself smiling again at the unlikely sound of a high-powered career woman sucking hard liquor through her teeth. She frowned, reminiscing.

"Maybe there was a middle ground I could have struck. Perhaps there was a halfway mark in there somewhere - between vestal virgin and...ho. You know?"

The other woman inclined her head,

"You are what you are I guess. A man is attracted to you or he isn't. Making yourself into some kind of fantasy girl, a hybrid of everything you think might turn them on? That's playing their game not your's."

Her voice wavered for a moment, and she frowned, playing with her tumbler to cover the sound, tilting it forward into the light.

"Besides, I think you might be overestimating them. Seems to me they want a woman to be either one thing or the other. And whichever one they choose, they're always going to be wondering what they missed out on."

Studying her over the rim of her glass, Buffy thought she saw her eyes flicker for a moment with an emotion that may or may not have been regret, before the chin came up once more and she flashed a sharp-edged smile.

"I guess there's no real way to win."

For the first time since they had started to talk the two women shared a look of genuine understanding, and almost despite her better judgement, Buffy found herself warming to her companion.

Besides, she reasoned, it was wrong to refuse free alcohol when funds at home were so limited. Accepting charity was something she had had to start getting used to and, steeling herself, she tipped the warm golden liquid into the well beneath her tongue where she knew it was least likely to make her vomit.

Leaking to the back of her throat the expensive tequila tasted surprisingly good though and far less like battery acid than she remembered. She closed her eyes momentarily as she let it slide down.

Why did tequila always remind her of Spike?

"So was he worth it?"

Lilah was watching her with a small smile of enjoyment on her lips and, collecting herself, Buffy tried to think where the conversation had been heading before she'd lost herself in warm alcohol drenched memories.

"I'm sorry...was who...what?"

The woman shook her head, raising an eyebrow,

"So you don't even remember his name? This other guy you gave up the better part of your wild oats for?"

Her voice was soft and cultured with barely a trace of an accent, and Buffy found herself wondering if a woman as self-possessed and confident as she was had ever had any real problems with men. From just the little she had gleaned so far, Lilah didn't seem like the kind of person who had ever let her heart rule her head. She smiled noncommittally at her question, not wanting to go there but feeling the need to clarify the background details.

"He left. Before him there was another guy. Also serious."

She took another sip of her drink before meeting the other woman's eyes again.

"But yes, he was special. They were both pretty special. But would I change anything that happened now, if I could?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I think I learned a lot. They both taught me a lot about myself. About what I'm capable of. And I kind of think the pain made me what I am. In the end I think it made me stronger."

Lilah's full-throated barking laugh startled her as she leaned in, half covering a smile with a hand before apologising.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bitch, but God, have you listened to yourself? 'In the end they made me stronger'? You talk like your life's already over."

Somehow Buffy resisted the impulse to set her straight, managed a weak smile instead.

"I just know I'll never be that girl again."

Noting her tone Lilah nodded slowly, before tilting the bottle to refill her glass.

"Believe me sweetie, there's always enough time left for mistakes. And for pain"

Reaching down she rubbed the back of her calf with one hand, before stretching to remove one elegant high heeled shoe.

"I think you'd be better off spending a little less time thinking about the past and concentrate on what you have."

It was a platitude she'd heard a million time before, but for once Buffy felt the real implication of the words. The truth was that she had no future, and no amount of tequila and sympathy was going to change that. What she did have was a present and, with a frown, she flashed back to the night before, the couch in the front room. Spike's face as he sat sideways on to her, hands laced on his knees in a horribly casual gesture of calm collected resolve as he told her in low resigned tones that he had to leave. That he should go for the sake of all of them.

And then she'd seen the tremor.

As his voice had been doing the sensible thing, telling her he was strong, playing the grown-up to her chaotic emotional teen, his hands had been shaking. Almost imperceptibly but uncontrollably, and she suddenly understood that the seemingly relaxed pose was just him trying to stop her from seeing it.

He was so afraid.

Not so much of her inevitable death, but of her complete acceptance of it.

"And this new guy? How does he fit into this fascinating pattern of self-loathing you have going?"

Buffy's head rolled to one side, and she brought a hand up to her neck to massage away some of the tension that seemed her ever-present friend these days.

"Oh no. I think it's your turn. You haven't said much about the source of your need to..."

She gestured at the already half empty bottle, and almost did a double-take before she remembered that the other woman had been refilling her glass regularly the whole time they had been talking. Lilah gave a small awkward laugh.

"Not too much to tell. I've been seeing this...man for while."

She laughed again, shaking her head a little.

"So not my usual type. I mean, I can appreciate a fine Bordeaux as well as the next person, but I guess I'll always be a Bud and beer nuts kind of gal at heart. A hot body, good face and save the conversation."

Her lips twisted into a half-hearted smile,

"But there was something about him. Something...I don't know...something just lit him up from inside. He's so..." she blinked, seemingly in surprise at the thought. "He makes everyone else seem like they're half asleep."

Dropping her head, she stared down into her drink.

"Maybe that's what I want."

Lilah nodded slowly, a small movement.

"Just to be alive, in the way that he's alive. When I'm with him, I feel like maybe I want to be."

She drew in a breath, cocking her head slightly, and when she spoke again it was as if the woman she'd been a moment before had been swiftly and unceremoniously evicted.

"But hey, who the hell am I kidding right? The stuff I've done?"

A laugh, devoid of anything approaching warmth.

"Any kind of life is a little more than I deserve."

Watching her now firmly closed body language, it was obvious Lilah felt that she had shared enough and Buffy restrained the desire to ask the question that so obviously followed her last words. Whatever she'd done, it was clear to her that the other woman was already struggling with her conscience. Tipping her glass back, Lilah emptied it a third time and then turned back to her.

"So what about you? What's so complicated about your's?"

"Ah." Buffy rolled her eyes, "Where do I start? He's..."

Her brow furrowed in a half scowl of frustration, as she searched for exactly the right phrase to describe the smouldering wreckage that was her relationship with Spike.

"Let's just say things between us have been pretty bad."

Lilah nodded solemnly, taking it in.

"But have they ever been good?"

Now there was the question. And the answer was one she hadn't cared, hadn't dared to tell anyone, except perhaps for that guy Webs - the one she'd dusted that night.

"We had our moments."

Her shoulder came up in an unconsciously defensive movement, a hand to her face to brush away hair.

"But mostly..."

She closed her eyes briefly, painful memories, before opening them again.

"Mostly it was just ugly. We hurt each other. A lot. I hated the way I was when I was with him. And I hated myself for wanting him."

She shrugged, fingers distractedly tearing at the napkin under her hand.

"It was a whole big hate-fest."

Lilah's expression darkened a fraction, and she took another measured sip of her drink.

"But you kept going back for more."

Buffy's eyes flashed to her, looking for the pity and disgust she knew had to be there, but the older woman's gaze was relaxed, interested. She glanced away sharply as a pair of young suited business men entered the bar laughing, and then seemed to relax again.

"What was it made you go back?"

Shame.

Disgust.

Lust.

Pain.

Loneliness

Curiosity..

All of the above.

"I suppose..."

And then realised that she wasn't being honest with herself. He at least deserved her honesty.

"When I was with him I felt something I'd never felt before. He made me feel free."

"Free to what?"

Her shoulders dropped a little. The truth was sometimes difficult to admit.

"Free to let go. I could be whatever I wanted with him, say whatever I wanted. Before...it was always different. Both the other guys...I thought I'd shared everything with them, I thought I was being myself, opening up, but at the back of everything, there was always this place, you know?"

She searched for affirmation in the other woman's eyes,

"Like I was afraid to let them see the real me. Afraid they'd be...I don't know...disappointed."

"And he wasn't disappointed?"

Buffy flinched at the flash frame that burst against the back of her eyes.

Spike's face, radiant and flushed with blood, his eyes blazing azure blue and his lips parted, pinkly-soft, as she writhed and bucked astride his hips. Pale chest livid with the half-moon scars her nails had made.

"No."

She took a swallow of tequila and rinsed it round the inside of her mouth.

"He wasn't even surprised. He knew what was inside me better than I did I guess."

"Really?"

Lilah's voice was soft, and as she bent forward to pull their bottle closer to her, Buffy realised that she had started to slump way too far forward over the bar and quickly righted herself. The other woman's eyes still appeared remarkably clear, her smile back in place and still as sardonic, sharp and red-lipped as it had been the first moment she sat down. And frowning at her, Buffy suddenly remembered where the whole conversation had been heading just before this smart, hard-drinking career woman has plied her with sweet tasting alcoholic goodness and got her thinking about Spike.

"Hey! You...you're changing the subject!"

Lilah's eyelashes batted, feigning a little good-humoured offence. She tilted her glass again, inspecting the contents.

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to talk about men."

"No! Demons. Before, I mean. I said Sp..,"

She swallowed his name, unsure how much information she wanted to give this stranger. Started again.

"I said that he used to be evil, and then you asked if he was a demon."

Lilah's eyebrow made it's sharp question mark again, and Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"And then you changed the subject. What do you know about demons?"

Rolling her head back on a slender neck, the older woman appeared to be formulating an answer to a question far more complicated than the one she'd asked. Her smile was ever-present, a bright-red symbol of her affected ambivalence to everything around her, but when she finally faced her again her eyes were suddenly colder and darker than the LA winter's night outside.

"When I was twelve years old my Father died."

Her head slipped to one side, the curtain of hair that she had tucked behind one ear sliding to cover her face in shadow. Her smile, now half hidden, twisted into a grin.

"And I was glad."

The coldness of her words didn't altogether surprise Buffy, but her tone was unsettling. Her voice far beyond emotional pain. Lilah flashed a glance at her, watching for her reaction, but she got nothing. The Slayer had spent far too long hiding her feelings from people to be goaded into an overemotional response

"Why?"

"Because it meant I was powerful."

She lifted a perfectly manicured hand to rest on the bar in front of her, before lifting her glass to her lips again. Watching her wrist, Buffy couldn't help but note that her movements were smoothly calm.

"I wished for him to die."

The smile again, like a doll's - devoid of emotion, and now a chill began to spread through her as Lilah spoke again.

"After I walked in on him and my little sister. I hadn't known he was home. He worked late on Tuesdays. I was coming back from the market and I heard him inside, I heard what he was telling her to do. I could smell his cigarettes through the screen."

Her neck stretched out to one side, working out a troublesome kink.

"When I opened the door he didn't see me, but she did. Sally did. She had these really bright blue eyes. Baby-blue he used to call her."

Shrugged,

"He never had any pet names for me."

Her voice hadn't changed pitch once, and Buffy could feel every nerve in her body slowly screwing itself up into fuse-wire as she listened to her soft, sing-song tone.

"I could see...her hands were so....little. She was just a baby, but she had polish on her nails. This bright candy pink polish, with little flecks of silver and gold in it. But the thing I really saw? You know what the first thing I really noticed was? She was wearing my charm bracelet. He'd given it to me for my tenth birthday and she was always, always, always asking if she could wear it. Just put it on, just wear it round the house."

She sucked in a short breath, and then a glass-brittle laugh burst from her lips.

"And I remember standing there with the door handle in my hand, thinking...that little bitch...."

A muscle in Buffy's jaw twitched involuntarily at the harsh sound of the word. Lilah pushed back her hair, and turned to face her again, eyes shining wet.

"She knew she wasn't ever supposed to touch my stuff."

The angles of her face were defined only by the gaudy lighting of the bar, and her expression was coloured by it, carnival colours making her pupils seem hugely black and empty. Swallowing hard, Buffy felt goosebumps break into life on the skin of her bare arms. Glancing down at them, Lilah smiled, cooly polite.

"There's a draft here. If you're cold we could move to a table."

Buffy shook her head, still trying to find the words she knew would sound trite, had to sound like the wrong thing. But the other woman had already turned back to her drink, the small soft smile she'd been wearing before replacing the high bright one.

"Anyway, after that I decided he had to die And then I wished it. Every day. And after a while I knew that if I thought it long enough, if I wanted it enough, I could make it happen. I could make him just...stop living,"

She let out a breath,

"And then...he just did."

Dipping a long finger slowly into her tequila, she took it back to her lips and sucked it clean.

"When I was a little older, I told my Mom about that and she cried. She that it wasn't my fault. But she didn't understand."

"Hey..."

Buffy stumbled, grasping for the words, needing to say something.

"Hey...every kid thinks bad stuff. But you didn't make him die."

Brown eyes darted quickly to her, a flash of indignant fire.

"Oh, but I did."

She tapped her glass, frowning.

"I told a teacher about what he'd been doing...what he'd been doing to Sally. I was angry. I thought she'd maybe tell the cops, tell my Mom. She was a grown-up and I knew they wouldn't call her...I knew they wouldn't say she'd made it up. I thought they'd come and take him away, that he'd be punished. I wanted him to be punished, I wanted him to hurt."

"Did she tell anyone?"

The young woman's smile widened, a cold slow drawing out of the lips.

"No. She never said a word. She just listened to me. No one had ever listened to me like that before. Like everything I said mattered to her. She said that. She said that I was what mattered to her. That it was her job to hear me."

She gave a small, sharp nod,

"And then the next day he was dead."

The knowledge of what Lilah was saying settled into her, and slowly Buffy let out a long breath and held it. The other woman nodded, affirming what she already knew without asking the question.

"She was a Vengeance Demon. She told me that of course, but I wasn't altogether sure what that meant. She told me she wanted to help me and that Da...that he was a bad man, a monster. She said she'd do whatever I told her to."

Her smile never wavered,

"I told her that I wanted him dead. That was my wish. And the rest as they say..."

One hand lifted in a horribly theatrical gesture.

"Is history."

Nausea washed through Buffy like cold water, and all she found she could do was shake her head. The words of reassurance and comfort she had been struggling to vocalise felt like ashes in her mouth now. Lilah's head came up again with a swing, hair gleaming.

"So you asked me what I know about demons, and I told you. I know that demons have power. That evil things have power. And I knew that if I could use that power, that if I could find a way to always have it working for me, I could be whatever I wanted. Go wherever I wanted. Away from that house and away from a town where the best career I could ever hope for was small-town slut."

The mock serious expression she wore made her words seem all the more ugly.

"That's what I learnt, and that's what I know. So Buffy, why don't you tell me what you know?"

She felt sober again. Lilah's story had sent all traces of wooziness away, replacing them with a feeling that made her want to take a long hot bath and scrub herself clean. A day away from the horrors of Sunnydale, shopping and enjoying a little quality-alone-time suddenly seemed like it had been a very bad idea. Hellmouth or no Hellmouth, it was a place she understood and, despite their history together, the small town represented something for her. An ideal she was fighting to preserve and a life she was defending on behalf of everyone on the planet.

"OK. I'll tell you what I know."

She tilted her head to look back at her, returning her gaze.

"I know that evil is an incredibly powerful force. And I know that it's real because I've seen it, I've looked into it's eyes and I've walked in it's footsteps. I've talked to it, I've drunk with it, I've discussed politics and I've swapped dirty stories with it. Hell, I've even shared a bed with it. And you know what I know?"

She leaned in and Lilah's breath felt warm on her cheek.

"I know that I'm stronger."

The other woman's eye's widened just a fraction and Buffy thought she discerned a tiny, sharp intake of breath. Her lips opened, blood red.

"Well, that's just inspiring."

The sarcasm in her voice just didn't sound as convincing as it had an hour earlier, and her cool poise suddenly seemed shattered. One hand fumbling in her inside pocket for something.

"I must say, you're a very impressive young woman. And a very interesting one."

Distracted by someone else entering, Buffy looked away for a moment and when she turned back her companion was silently slipping off her stool.

"Are you going?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I'd love to stay longer but there's no rest for the...ah...."

She gestured, offhandedly and Buffy noticed that her mobile phone, the thing she'd obviously been searching for, was in her hand, obviously waiting to be answered. An important call maybe, either way she was on the move. Away to do something's bidding.

With a small frown Buffy reached for her arm, and turned her as she started for the door.

"Mind if I offer you some advice?"

Lilah's smile flickered for a moment, almost dying out, before she recovered

"Ok."

"It's your's really, but I don't think your taking it. Stop trying to convince yourself you're something that you're not."

The mobile phone in her hand glowed briefly with an incoming text, but Lilah barely glanced at it. Buffy held her gaze, watching the emotions behind the hazel-brown eyes change and shift.

"You think you're evil...but you're not."

Quietly, she got to her own feet, dusted herself down.

"This guy you say makes you feel alive, you should try and make it work. You're just human Lilah. Maybe it's time you stopped trying to prove you're not."

The older woman's eyelids flickered downwards then, eyelashes sweeping pale cheeks. Her smile was still in place but, brushing past her and pulling on her coat, Buffy thought that maybe she was crying.

But then again, it was always possible that she had just gotten something caught in her eye. LA, after all, could be a pretty dirty city.

THE END