Buffy had taken it upon herself to blow off some steam after her mini-argument with Faith over the boards. That meant only one thing. Slaying. Sure, she could've thrown a few punches at a punching bag or demanded angry sex from Spike, but she just threw a few stakes and bottles of holy water into a bag and headed out. No real thought behind any of it but a gnawing, angry voice in the back of her head.
There wasn't a lot of activity brewing, but Buffy managed to stumble upon a few scattered vamps here and there, and that was enough for her. Tonight, she was dragging out the fights. Whenever she had an open opportunity to push a stake through a vamp's heart, she ignored it, choosing to keep on punching and kicking. It wasn't until that specific bumpy-head wasn't fun anymore that she finally ended him.
The one she was engaged in a tussle with while Bartleby watched without her knowledge was no exception. She rammed the heel of her hand into the bridge of his nose, breaking it with a crunch. She felt a burst of satisfaction inside of her as she watched him writhe with pain.