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Some days, Buffy hated being the strong one. She hated being the one that had to kill the bad guys and protect the good guys and keep a stiff upper lip at all times.
She sometimes worried that, if she didn't smile, no one else would.
Which was really unfair, when it came right down to it. She had to save the world at the expense of her childhood and be happy doing it? What kind of twisted world was that?
Of course, now that she'd met the first slayer, learned her story, Buffy knew what kind of twisted minds came up with her world. And she was damn well gonna do something about it.
It wasn't so much her anger against the dark, or her fear or losing, or even her desire to help the potentials. She wanted them to share her power so that she could be free.
She had given eight years to the cause, and that was more than enough. The only way to remove her responsibility had been death, but she'd overcome that twice and was still slaying.
So instead, she decided to share her power, her gift, her curse. It was the most selfish thing she had ever wished for -- ever done -- but she couldn't bring herself to regret it.
She went to talk to Willow.