Buffy's lips pursed into an angry pout as she moved her hands and arms about in what Dawn referred to as "Buffy's Angry Arms". "It must be really easy to offer advice from the cheap seats Xander. You don't, can't, and never will understand the burden that I suffer! I'm the one responsible for everything! I can't quit, I can't give up, nor can I ever have a hope for a normal life!" Buffy breathed in and out through her mouth as Xander just gawked at her, his eyes wide.
"I'm already living on borrowed time, most, if not all, Slayers don't live to be anywhere near my age! There's no retirement plan here Xander, Slayers don't get a 401K. We just get a tombstone. If we're lucky." Buffy leaned against the nearest wall, her face showing a mix of both anger and sorrow. "It's easy to talk about tactics and psychological warfare when nobody's relying on you, when you don't have a destiny!"
Xander began to get angry himself, the rage building up behind his eyes, but Buffy was oblivious to that. "You can leave all of this behind anytime you want! You even get to have a normal job! So don't tell me about strategy and keeping myself under control. It's not your right! You haven't earned it!" Having said her peace, Buffy huffed off in a storm, headed for her room.
As Xander pondered over Buffy's outburst, he felt the card that Centauri gave him grow heavier in his pocket. In fact, the more he thought about what Buffy had said, the angrier he got. His knuckles began to turn white with the clenching of his fists. Prideful much, General Buffy? Xander uncharitably thought. I guess fighting by your side for these last six years doesn't count for much when I don't tell you what you want to hear. Xander shook his head in frustration as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Six years, and she hasn't learned a damn thing.
He felt the card in his pocket, his fingers rubbing over the embossed letters, his eyes focused on the door Buffy had just slammed. Before he could stalk after Buffy, or do something equally as rash, he felt a pair of soft arms surround his waist and stomach from behind. Soon thereafter, he felt a head press itself just between his shoulder blades. Xander was going to ask who was there, when he noticed the soft scent of lavender in the air. Only one person wore that, and it had always flattered him that she wore it just because he liked the smell.
Placing his arms over hers, he sighed, and mentally gave up on the yelling match with Buffy. Relaxing, he greeted his hugger. "Hey Dawn."