For all that she'd given Buffy crap about needing to loosen up and not try to protect everyone all the time, Kennedy-- who was way irritable by now, in between being out of contact with home, wondering whether Willow was even madder at her now, and whatever the hell was going on with everything being so heavy-- had taken her crossbow and was patrolling the corridor outside her camp, in Big Bad Protective Slayer mode herself.

Pot, kettle. Whatever.