School was done for the day. Buffy exited the school building, wondering about what she should do now. Usually after school, she'd hang with her friends in the library, or just hang with her friends. But they had left her to do other things.

Buffy walked slowly home. Walking past the cemetary, where she slayed. 'Not today,' she thought, 'not ever.' Buffy seemed really disapointed now that she wasn't the slayer. Now she had nothing. She was just plain old Buffy. Even though she complained about her duties and didn't want the burden of them, she hated that they were gone.

She took as long as she could walking home. ''No point of going home when you really don't have much to do," Buffy mumbled to herself. Yeah she had homework, but who wants to start that early.

Halfway home, Willow caught up with her. "Buffy!" Willow yelled out from behind her. Buffy stopped and turned around.

"Hey Will," she said in a some-what depressed tone. Buffy looked back down to the ground where she was previously looking.

Willow's smile transformed into a sad look. "What's wrong, Buffy?" Willow wondered. Buffy didn't even bother to look up.

"Oh, it's just the whole 'I'm not the slayer, anymore' thing. Ya know, I've always thought that my slayer duties were a big burden on my life," Buffy started explaining how she felt, "and I always thought how my life would be different and how it might be nice, and then 'poof' it's gone. And now I feel stupid for thinking about not being the slayer."

Willow had no clue about how her friend felt. "Buffy," she put her arm around Buffy's shoulder, "I know what it's like to lose something, and I know how it feels, but you have to feel better about all this. Look at the bright side of it. Now you have more time to do things with us. You have more time just to hang. Do other things." Willow noticed that her friend wasn't as down and depressed as she just was. Willow had helped her, once again. But she still wasn't one-hundred percent joyous as Buffy wanted to be. Willow spoke up again. "Didn't you want to know who the current slayer was?" She asked with an inquisitive look.

Buffy thought about it and looked up, "Kind of. Why, do you know who she is?" Buffy wanted answers.

"Well, yeah," Willow said, "I've been helped by her, so has Xander." Willow paused and looked around. She quieted down a bit. "Her name is Chelsea Smith. She's been the slayer ever since you first moved here."

Buffy stood there thinking. "O.k. Will, thanks." Willow waited for her to say something more.

"Do you want to meet her?" Willow blurted out.

"No, no," Buffy stammered, "That's o.k. I'm just gonna go home now."

Willow looked at her. "O.k. See you tomorrow." Willow smiled.

"Bye," Buffy said with a wave and walked home.

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Buffy finally got home. She walked in her house and noticed that her mother wasn't home. 'She must still be at the gallery.' Buffy didn't expect her mother home for another couple of hours.

She walked into the kitchen and opened the refridgerator and grabbed a bottle of water. She twisted open the cap and took a drink. She screwed the cap back on and walked up to her room.

Buffy entered her room and plopped down on the bed. She grabbed strap of her bag and pulled it off of her shoulder. She looked over at her desk. She got up to go look in it. She pulled open the middle drawer on the left. That's where she kept her slayer stuff. But not this time. Not a stake or a cross in sight. Not even one vial of holy water.

She sat down on the chair that sat in front of the desk and started looking through the drawers. She pulled out a couple of small notebooks with some writing in it and put it back in the drawer. Then she noticed some pictures, and pulled them out. She started looking through them. Some were of her friends, laughing together at the park. She remembered that day and smiled, she even let out a little laugh. Buffy continued looking through the pictures and found more of her and her friends, even a couple of her and her mother. But there was one that really caught her eye. Buffy was about 7 years old. She was at the beach, playing in the sand with her father. She remembered that, too. She remembered how she wanted to go to that beach. How she waited impatiently for days just to be able to play in the sand and walk in the ocean. She felt a tear run down her cheek. She caught it before it hit her chin. She put the pictures back in her drawer and stood up. 'I supposed I should do my homework,' she thought.

She grabbed her books out of her bag and sat on her bed. She opened her history notebook and attempted to write something in it. But nothing would come. She couldn't get anything to come out of her brain. No ideas. She kept thinking of her father and of her slaying duties. She couldn't think of anything else.

Buffy just laid down on her bed and before she knew it, she was asleep.