"Don't start. Besides -- I'm happy just the way I am."

It was half a truth. Half a lie. The standard configuration of her parts and her pieces gave Buffy little grief; learning to accept being a Slayer had also led to accepting her body for what it was. Lean, capable, and wholly her own. And -- two years deep into a serious relationship -- she lately found she had so much less to be insecure about. However, it was all the intangible architecture underneath that still filled her with a quaking uncertainty. Perhaps she was happy with how she looked, and how she acted, but not with how she felt. Not as often as she'd like, at least. Not with so many absent friends and shadowy enemies.

This time she actually did lean forward and give his elbow a light, cautionary smack. "Attitudes like yours are what's wrong with the world back home."

Well. At lease it was one of the things that were wrong.