Buffy's big plan to come clean and talk to her master had been horribly foiled by falling asleep on the couch before he'd actually come home. She hadn't slept well since she'd come to Crescent Hills, and it was starting to take its toll on her. After stumbling upon the journal and failing to have her epic confrontation with someone she was fair certain she could trust now, Buffy had spent a lot of time on her own, thinking and reading and doing floor exercises to stay in shape. She'd made her decision to speak with him. Why did it seem like she was avoiding it now?
When Sunday came, she'd had about enough of herself and trying to abide by the rule to stay inside. She slipped into a pair of jogging shorts and a tank top, making sure the clasp on her wrist with Ambrose's mark was secure in case she ran into anyone who wanted a bite.
As soon as she quietly set foot outside and took off running, Buffy instantly felt better. She'd been unable to really stretch her legs like this since coming to Crescent Hills, and it felt amazing.