She won't bring up the fact that in his last days in Sunnydale, he managed to sire more than he probably sired during his whole unlike. A vampire could be so productive when he wasn't being picky.

"That was quite the fell swoop." At the memory, her palm burned. Watching fire creep over his body hadn't been the most pleasant experience -- but damn her if it wasn't triumphant. "Y'know, you in Sunnydale's ninth hour."

Aha. And now they'd finally found their way there. The sacrifice. The heroism. The walnut at the centre of so much of this tension.