The next entry was much lighter than the previous one, but it still tugged at Buffy's heartstrings as she read it, picturing Ambrose and his father together. The things they'd seen together, and the bond they shared. His father's wish for his son to find companionship, and all these years later...
She read the passage over again, the tightness in her chest almost unbearable. She had lived her life thinking one thing, focused on one mission because something, somewhere had chosen her. She hadn't counted on Supernatural people having the potential for so much humanity, and she wasn't sure how on Earth she was supposed to be the Slayer everyone home was counting on her to be now that she knew it. Ambrose wasn't a saint, but he seemed, from all counts, to have a goodness in him.
He seemed human. In some ways more than she felt most of the time.
Buffy wasn't sure how much time she spent reading, but it was well into the night that she continued, looking for anything that would tell her that she shouldn't trust him.