Vicious was different when he came back, not the man she'd liked so much as a sparring partner. He couldn't hold her interest any more, and that left Spike with nothing to even consider.

Molotov snorts -- it's not like she'd enjoyed any of that herself, you know. In fact, it was probably even worse for her than it had been for Spike. "You and I both know that wasn't it," she says, closing her eye and settling into the sofa, though her body still faces him. "We were already broken apart before that."

She might be a little drunk to have a proper grip on terminology. Molotov, sweetie, you mean 'grown apart'.