That was one of the first things that had gone through his mind when he saw her at the Bronze that first time. Pretty and perky, fascinating even but the thing that set her apart from the other Slayers was just that. She had a life that she defended fiercely.
He hadn't known a thing about his first, only marginally more about his second but with Buffy as his intended third, he got close. Dangerously close dangerously fast. He'd been to her house, not just once. He talked to her mom and the news of her death brought out a sting of pain in his heart that he hadn't expected — Joyce was a good woman. A decent woman and by now there's no doubt about why he sank so low.
Or perhaps, rose to the occasion.
He's silent for a while, expression blank aside from the slightly furrowed brows. It is a lot to take in and between the two Summers sisters and Angel, he's gotten a pretty good idea of what awaits him. Some blanks remain, but not so many that he can't see the full picture and in ways he has yet to fully understand, it makes sense. After all, he was the one to come to her when Angelus threatened to bring about the Apocalypse, not the other way around. He's been in her kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and complaining about heart-ache and although the only Buffy he's familiar with is the one who's out to stake him... she's been decent to him ever since he got here.
He shifts his weight, unsure of what to do. In the end he holds out the bottle for her to take, pausing briefly to wipe the lip off on his sleeve first. It's the closest to an apology he can come. ]