He tries his absolute best to understand, wrinkles showing at the corners of his eyes, like thoughts caught there in the skin. The idea of exclusivity is one which stands rather distant from Ishiah, one of many angels cut from the same cloth, the same fabric, minds formed to act as one. Even those he's been closest to over the years, fellow peri, and that wonderful, impossible, infuriating puck named Robin Goodfellow, have all been one in a pattern. None are made to be alone, even the pucks who try to be nothing but. Nature takes them out before they can be fully isolated.

Maybe, Ishiah thinks, it means that none of them are quite so strong.

But there's someone who's come into his life recently, who provides a shred of an idea what it might be like. Ishiah's head tilts back as his eyes trace over the ceiling. "I think I understand, conceptually. There is a great deal that holds Caliban apart from everyone else in the world. He doesn't fit in. He plays a potentially crucial role," Ishiah says quietly. "It hasn't been the same for me, not even as one of very few angels who chooses the path of a peri."

His eyes narrow as his gaze brushes over Buffy. "But I also don't think you're the type who's meant to be alone, whether or not others can fully step into your shoes."