Disclaimer: I do NOT own Buffy the vampire slayer or its characters. I make no money from this.
Warnings: General spoilers for season four and five. Spoilers: Season four and five.
She wasn't the only one anymore. Now there's hundreds of girls, and one calling. Expect she feels more alone now than ever. They have a choice. They don't have to fight the forces of darkness, there's hundreds of other girls to do that. They can chose to use their power for something else. She had no choice.
[I have all this power. I didn't ask for it. I don't deserve it. It's like . . . I wanted to be punished. I wanted to hurt like I thought I deserved.]
A sisterhood, a place where understanding flourishes. She didn't have that. Not even Faith can understand. Faith had enjoyed slaying whereas she had wanted nothing more than to be normal. She hadn't wanted this but she had done it, had sacrificed for it.
They don't understand that, they can't. Those girls never went through being the only one and Buffy can't understand having other people who truly understand, who could truly share the burden. Her friends had done they best they could and she was grateful for that, loved them for that but . . .
[They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't chosen. To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it.]
She and Faith were the last to be born from death. The last to be born from true, lasting death. Those girls had been born from life, their strength given to them freely.
[I feel like I'm worse than anyone, I'm beneath them. I feel like I'm not worthy of their love. 'Cause even though they love me, it doesn't mean anything 'cause their opinions don't matter. They don't know. They haven't been through what I've been through. They're not the slayer. I am. Sometimes I feel— this is awful—I feel like I'm better than them. Superior.]
Buffy sighed, walking over to her bed. For a while she just sat, staring blankly. She didn't want to be feeling this way, the last time she had, Spike had bared the brunt of it and he wasn't here anymore.
[You do have a superiority complex. And you've got an inferiority complex about it.]
Why? Did this have to happen every time? What had triggered this in the first place anyway? Sunnydale . . . it always came back to that, despite that it was a crater now. The memories there . . . the things they said, did, to themselves and each other . . . it was always simmering under the surface.