"I never said you weren't," Buffy argued. "I just said you were an ass, which you still are." She frowned at the hand that had claimed her wrist. It would be so easy to break free and be on her way, but she didn't. She simply settled for heaving a deep sigh. "I get it. I do. But I'm so sick of all this crap. It's like a really rotten game that I can't win because some jerk stole the die." In the end, that's what it all really boiled down to. This night was just another pile of dirt on top of the life of Buffy Summers and unlike crawling out of her grave, she just couldn't seem to break to the surface. Sure, she could say she'd progressed the past few years, but here, by herself, surrounded by her own thoughts as company, she was thinking it wasn't as progressive as she'd thought. "I'm just so damn tired of it."