Mel had left a beer at her table when she departed for a quick mission in the past. The waitrats thoughtfully left it for her, so she returns to it as soon as her giggles subside
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Mel doesn't recognise the name, offhand. Later she'll look it up, and discover that Kennedy did die around this time, but don't worry, she gets better. Right now, though, she shakes her head in sympathy.
"Sorry."
It's matter-of-fact, for all the genuine sympathy. Sometimes Slayers die.
"Hey, Mel."
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Without even a 'thanks', Mel's drinking that beer instead.
"How'd it all work out?"
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"We got the Scythe. But Kennedy's dead."
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"Oh. One of the Slayers?"
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"Sorry."
It's matter-of-fact, for all the genuine sympathy. Sometimes Slayers die.
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"One casualty's probably pretty good going, for what we were up against."
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And adds, "what about them?"
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"But we got the grab, right? The boys made it out?"
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"Yeah, the Winchesters are fine. Stopped the ritual, got the Scythe, the whole bit. Emma was alive when we left."
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Mel'd offer to go back and snap Emma's neck if she thought it would help.
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"Yeah. So they can't try it again." He pauses. "Mel, I need to ask you something."
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"Hit me."
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"Remember when you sent me to Hell?"
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