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Buffy figured it was her turn to share.
"They're called The Initiative. They're a sub-division of the Military, the Army branch, I think. My ex used to be a part of it... and my other ex was taken by the same men who took you. They experimented on him too."
She looked at Phoenix.
"Good night, we'll talk about that in the morning."

She bristled at being called "Feebs", but now was not the time.
She waved, said, "Night", and opened the door to leave and go to her own room. Sleep was necessary.

Xoey flicked a switch as she walked through the door to her apartment, throwing her stuff on a beanbag by the entrance. She had found someone to pawn the ring off too after all, and she was quite happy with her profit. She felt like celebrating, but she needed a shower and to change. She had some of the demon's blood on her. As the lights flickered on, Xoey hung her crossbow carefully above the mattress that was against the wall, and set her quiver down beside it.

The raven-haired girl lifted her arms and slid off her shirt, putting it in a pile of other such clothes next to her mattress. Same went her shoes, her socks, her pants, and her undergarments. She covered herself by wrapping a towel around her. Her feet slid into some cheap plastic flip flops, the keys to her apartment in her hand, and she turned off the lights. For a moment she stood there in the darkness, not having to close her eyes to rest, then stepped out and headed down the hall of her complex to the showers the tenants shared.

Upon entering, the slayer checked the stalls to see if anyone else was around. She had her share of scars, and she didn't like anyone else seeing them. Luckily, it was late enough that the room was empty. Her slender hand turned on a shower, as hot as possible. The towl hung on a knob outside, she closed the curtain behind her and let the cleansing water rush over her. She closed her eyes and began to comb her hair with her fingers, getting every last strand good and wet. As she worked the blob of black, she felt a hand on her wrist, firm. She quickly opened her eyes and tried to bang the hand against the shower wall, thinking it was some pervert.

Staring back at her were two oddly-shaped scars where eyes should be. She started to scream, kicking and punching, but she found that no sound escaped her throat and she was suddenly too tired to even move. She was drug out of the stall naked, unable to do anything. She could barely feel anymore, it was like she was paralyzed, but she sensed the vague sensation of a knife going through her chest, then her heart, then her pelvis, then everywhere else, over and over again. She tried to scream, or move, but it was no use.

Xoey jerked, the water scalding her face. She turned down the temperature and quickly washed up, tieing her hair into pigtails but not bothering to braid them. She donned a red babydoll shirt and stretchy jeans. She really needed to go celebrate.

The slayer walked into Jailbait, blinded by the strobes and deafened by the music. Suddenly, she needed less to party and more to drink. Hopefully they didn't card here. She made her way over to the bar and sat on a stool. Xoey was about to motion to the bartender when she suddenly noticed the girl next to her. Really noticed her. She tapped her shoulder.

"Hi," she smiled as sweetly as possible, "I'm Xoxo."

Andrew heard someone knocking. "Who's that?" he asked, but there was no response. He tried again, but still, no response. He hung up, assuming that something had suddenly come up. He turned to Buffy to say something, and realized that Buffy, in fact, was not there. He left the basement, looking for her in the kitchen, then went further upstairs. He spotted her just outside a room, and went up to greet her. "Hey Buffy, what's the hell happened?" His voice changed from mildly conversational to concerned as he saw Atticus through the open door.