Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to Joss.
Rating: Not applicable
Spoilers: There may be a slight mention or two of some things that I've read around the net.
Special Thanks: To Deb cause she's the best!

The Psychology Professor looked out among her 102 students, making eye contact briefly with each one, her gaze finally resting on the pretty blonde student who sat in the middle of the classroom, her hazel eyes meeting the teacher's gaze with keen interest.

"Relationships," the instructor droned, turning back to the lesson at hand. "They mold us, shape us. They contribute to who we are, where we want to go and sometimes how we get there. Mankind is a social animal, we live in families, we choose mates, we pick friends, and although a lot of our personality is inborn, ingrained in our genetic code, marking us as individuals, the lives of others affect us. Look closely at the people around you, examine your own ties and how they affect you as a person. I look forward to hearing about your discoveries in our next class."

*****

"You want me to do what?!" Buffy Summers proclaimed, looking at Quentin Travers as if he had grown a second head.

"Simple, I want you to write a book, an autobiography. In it I want you to chronicle your experiences while fulfilling your duties as the slayer. Write everything you thought, experienced, what motivated you to act or react to the situations you found yourself in, etc. This is a rare opportunity Buffy, an opportunity to be heard by the council. Never before have we offered to pay a slayer to write her life story, but you, well, you are a special case. You've been very successful in your duties over the years and we think it might help slayers in the future to read about what you went through in your experiences as the slayer."

Buffy looked at the aging watcher thoughtfully, no longer intimidated by his presence like she had been in the past. She used to view the Watcher's Council as the enemy, an organization existing for the sheer purpose of making her life miserable, but her beliefs had gradually changed. Lately she had noticed a transformation in the council's dealings with their slayer. Ever since she and Giles had agreed to work with them again they had made the effort to adapt to the changes Buffy had brought to the structure of the fight against evil. It was a time of learning and growing, for both parties involved, and that is what motivated Buffy's thoughts as she came to a conclusion about the council's bizarre request.

"I'll do it," she said softly, sticking out her hand for a shake to seal the agreement. "I'll write the book for you."

Excerpt from Book: The Early Years

When I was little I dressed up like Wonder Woman one year for Halloween, I must have been about five. I'd say it was portent, some sort of foreshadowing for what was to come but the truth is that almost every little girl born in the seventies or eighties who had access to public television dressed up as Wonder Woman at some point. I used to run around the house with my mom's good sheets tied to my back, pretending that they were billowing capes while I attempted to save my cat from the horrid dangers that would befall it. But even back then I never imagined what my life would one day become.

When I was a bit older I wanted to be a figure skater, but later my interest in skating lost its draw as my interest in boys and cheerleading took precedence. At that point in my life I wanted to be a fashion designer or an art buyer, something glamorous and stylish. My grades slipped because my social life was more important. I'd spend the night at a friend's house on the weekend because my parents, no matter how much I loved them, couldn't seem to get along at all. In a way finding out that I was the slayer saved me, gave me direction, no matter how much I hated it at first. I shudder when I remember what my life was like back then. I didn't like who I was, I'm starting to like who I am now.

*****

"I'm not sure I understand the question, Buffy. You want to know why I didn't train you like the other slayers? What brought this on?" Giles asked, looking at his slayer in concern.

"It's the book I'm writing for the council. Quentin claimed that the reason they are so interested in this project stems from the fact that we've been successful here on the Hellmouth with fighting demons, and I think a large part of that is because of you. You let me be who I am, let me approach slaying with my own style and I guess I just figured it would be cool if the council knew what motivated you to do things that way," Buffy claimed softly, gazing at her watcher with obvious admiration.

Giles eyes teared softly as he regarded the girl who was so much like a daughter to him, touched that she attributed a part of her success to him. "I guess I just recognized that the conventional methods were not needed. You are so creative, so bright, within days of meeting you the rules of training a slayer seemed hopelessly binding and inefficient. You never ceased to surprise me, Buffy, in your unique ability to deal with darkness yet retain your ability to laugh. I didn't want to take that from you..I couldn't," Giles responded, his voice choking as he said it.

Buffy's own eyes started to tear as well as she took in her watcher's words. "Thank you," she replied after a brief silence. "Thank you for that. For training me the way you did, for always being there. I don't know what I would ever do without you."

Giles smiled as he reached over to give his slayer a hug. "I have something for you," he said softly, standing to go retrieve something from the closet in the hall. "I was going to save it as a gift for your college graduation but I think now would be more fitting."

Slowly he walked over a placed a white box in front of Buffy, sitting down next to her as she took off the lid and stared down at the contents. In the box lay a hand-sized golden cross; intricate patterns running up and down its shinny surface while a single, large ruby glittered from its center.

"Giles, it's beautiful," Buffy exclaimed, lifting the cross up to stare at it in wonder.

"My father gave that to me when I graduated from college, and now I want you to have it. It's a gift of faith, Buffy, not necessarily religious faith, but faith in what we do and why we do it. Faith that there are beautiful things in the world worth saving. Faith that this instrument will repel the most evil of vampires."

"Thank you," Buffy replied softly, happy tears starting spill out of her eyes, "I'll treasure it always."

Excerpt: Father Figure

I've come to the conclusion that there are two different words to describe fathers, each one having a different meaning. A father is someone who donates his sperm to make you, a dad is someone who cleans your wounds if you hurt yourself, who holds you when you cry of a broken heart, who loves you no matter how many times you make a stupid mistake. Hank Summers is my father, Giles is my dad.

He is one of the biggest influences in my life, and the best thing you watchers ever gave me. He has always been there for me, never wavering in his love or his support. And although he probably doesn't know it, he has taught me so much about myself.

I hated my calling in the early years of slaying. I just wanted to be normal, to fit in. One time when I was sixteen, I was feeling down because a date turned out badly because of slaying. Giles saw that and proceeded to tell me about his youth. He told me how he resented his family's assumption that he would study to be a watcher, how he rebelled against that duty the way I so desperately wanted to rebel against my own. He understood me, he knew where I was coming from and related to me. I think that is so important in the relationship between watcher and slayer.

My mom once told me that the summer I ran away Giles traveled from city to city looking for me. He never gave up hope that he would find me or that I would return. It is nice to know that someone has that much faith in me, in my strength to overcome the living hell that life can be sometimes. Although he doesn't know that I know, he was the one that forced Snyder to reenroll me in school. He helped me study for my SAT's, he took pride in the fact that I got accepted to a couple of great colleges. He encouraged the development of my mind as well as my strength as the slayer and there is no way I can ever hope to repay him for that.

You watchers once fired Giles because he loved me like a daughter, but it is because our relationship is that way it is that we work so well together. I trust him, I understand him, and I love him as if he were my real dad. I can only hope that other slayers are so lucky.

*****

"So how is the book coming?" Xander asked as he watched his friend scribble words in her note pad.

"Not bad, although it's a pretty frustrating process," Buffy answered as she blew a strand of hair out of her face.

Xander chuckled softly, shaking his head as if to indicate disbelief. "To think, Buffy Summers, one of my best friends, is soon to be the author of an actual book, even if it is only going out to council members. Is there anything you can't do?" Xander asked, giving her a mock salute.

"Um, well, I don't know how to knit sweaters, do the hula, or fly an airplane," Buffy replied, joking.

"None of that now," Xander exclaimed, hands on his hips. "You're ruining my hero image of you. Now that I know you can't knit sweaters I don't know what I'll do.. Nah, you're still my hero anyway."

"You say such beautiful things," Buffy stated, a smile spreading across her face.

"I only tell it like it is," Xander said making the cub scout honor hand gesture.

In a rush Buffy got up and gave her friend a big hug, squeezing him in a firm slayer grip.

"What was that for?" Xander asked, returning her smile with one of his own. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Just cause you're Xander," Buffy replied, "and Xander is a very good thing for you to be."

*****

"So," Willow said, announcing her presence as she sank into a chair beside Buffy. "Is there anything I can do to help you with your book?"

"Um, you want to finish writing it for me?" Buffy asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Buffy," Willow chastised softly, "that would kind of defeat the purpose of the whole thing. They want to know your thoughts, your feelings, they want to delve into that slayer brain of yours."

"Slayer brain, huh? Wouldn't it be cool if there was a way to just transfer your thoughts into a book without having to write or type it first?" Buffy responded, whining only in jest.

"Nah, that would take half the fun out of it. And since when does Buffy Summers do anything the easy way anyway?" Willow teased.

"Hey!" Buffy exclaimed in mock indignation, "are you implying that I make things difficult for myself sometimes?"

"Implying, hell! I'm saying it," Willow said, a smirk lighting her features.

"Those are fighting words, little miss. You'd better prepare to defend yourself," Buffy joked, a large smile growing across her face as she crumbled up a piece of paper to throw it by Willows head in feigned war.

"Ut-oh, I struck a nerve. Would it help if I said that nine times out of ten there is no non-difficult way to do the things you do?" Willow asked, holding up her hands in surrender.

"Might help a little," Buffy replied, laughing along with her friend.

"Seriously though, I'm here for you. Just so you know," Willow responded, reaching over to brush a lock of hair out of Buffy's eyes.

"I know you are," Buffy admitted, "and it means a lot."

Excerpt: A Slayer needs her friends

I love them, there is no other way to put it. There are times they drive me crazy, and other times they make me laugh so much my sides hurt, but all of the time I know that life just wouldn't be the same without them. The idea that slayers were prevented from having friends is absurd. My friends are my family and I value their friendship more than anyone could possibly understand.

It's the little things that are so important, the way Xander cracks a joke to lighten the mood. The way Willow mumbles when she's uncomfortable. They keep things real. It would be so easy to succumb to the slaying lifestyle, to lose myself in the hunt, to let the role overtake that part of me that's not the slayer, but Willow and Xander are my tie to humanity.

But most of all they are a lesson in courage. I fight but I have a calling and super powers to help me. Giles is a watcher, trained to guide a slayer, but Willow and Xander fight by my side with no strength or training to aid them. Armed with little more than their sense of right and wrong and their unparalleled bravery, they rise to every occasion the Hellmouth decides to throw our way. Willow gave up ivy-league for this fight, they both gave up any chance of a normal life, but I have never once heard them complain. In times of crises they are right there, asking me what they can do to help.

They look up to me like I'm a hero. Both have told me at one point that being my friend broke them out of a shell but I think it's the other way around. They complement me and knowing them, and maintaining that friendship has made me a better person. Looking into those faces, along with Giles' and my sister's, and although I don't see them as often, Angel's, Cordelia's and Wesley's, reminds me daily of why I would give my life to keep the world safe. The world has to be kept safe because there are people like them in it.

*****

"We really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to help out with the school play, Buffy," Dawn's teacher said with a smile, the two of them dodging students as they walked together.

"It's no problem at all," Buffy replied, glancing all over the auditorium for her sister. "We should be good to go, Xander is almost done building the sets, my other friends Willow and Tara have been working around the clock to get the costumes together. If we can get through this rehearsal without any glitches I'd say were ahead of schedule."

"You're a good organizer," the teacher responded, nodding her head in approval.

"Well, I'm sure Dawn could tell you a few unflattering things about my room that might contradict that," Buffy said with a smile of her own, taking the compliment in stride. Just then the subject of their conversation walked up, dressed in a white sheet turned toga that was adorned with fake gold jewelry.

"How do I look?" Dawn asked her sister, twirling around to give Buffy the full effect of the costume Tara had made her.

"Best Helen of Troy ever," Buffy replied affectionately, flashing her sister a grin.

"I know you're going to be busy behind stage doing the directing and stuff but are you gonna be able and come out to see my parts in the play?" Dawn asked Buffy, her eyes pleading as she gave Buffy her best puppy dog look, a look she had learned well from following her sister's example.

Buffy's mind flashed sudden images as she contemplated Dawn's words. Their mother huddled under a jacket as she watched Buffy ice skating for a competition in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Another picture of their mother sitting in the school bleachers holding a small felt flag with the school logo on it watching her daughter nail the funky dance moves for the half time cheerleading extravaganza Buffy's Freshmen year of high school. Sorrow overcame Buffy as she reflected that Joyce would have loved nothing more than to see Dawn play the female lead in the school play, and how Dawn might be the only student there who didn't have a parent gushing over her performance.

Flashing a smile to hide her melancholy filled thoughts, Buffy reached over and ruffled her sister's long hair. "Dawnie, there is no place else I'd rather be."

Excerpt: Just the two of us

I miss my mother so much. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of her in some way. A part of me feels so guilty, thinking that I should have spent more time with her, I should have offered to do more things around the house to help her out. She worked so hard to take care of Dawn and me. She never let us feel the divorce, never let us feel the limited funds, the stress of a full day's work, the hardships of raising two daughters without a partner.

I know you watchers would probably like to know what was the hardest thing I've ever had to face. I'm sure you expect me to answer that it was dying at the hands of the Master, or fighting the newly ascended mayor, or defeating the goddess known as Glory, but the hardest thing I've ever had to do aside from being forced to send an ensouled Angel to hell, was bury my mother.

There was a time when I resented her. I resented her for her reaction to the news of finding out that I was the slayer. I resented the fact that she tried so hard to do what seemed to me was remarkably close to running my life, but now I think I understand where she was coming from. I look at Dawn and I want the world to be perfect for her. I want her to only know happiness, to never have her heart broken, to never have to confront the evil of the world, to walk along the streets at night and not be aware of the things that go bump. I know now that my mother wanted the same for me. I'm sure finding out that her daughter hunted dangerous beings was like a nightmare, but she eventually accepted it because she knew it was a part of who I am. I wish she were still alive so I can tell her how much I appreciate that.

I thank whatever beings were involved in sending Dawn to us. I like being an older sister, no matter how many times she drives me to the point that I want to pull my hair out. It's nice to be needed, to have someone depend on me and not just in a slayer type way but in an emotional and family way. I like having someone to take care of. I think that mom would be proud of us.

*****

The jail wasn't like Buffy had expected it to be. She envisioned dirty hallways and impossibly small cells, kind of like the pictures of Alcatraz that used to appear in the history books at school when she was a child. But this prison was clean, and neat, with open windows that allowed the sunlight to stream in. She was relieved that it wasn't horrible, although she knew that any prison would be bad enough. It eased her guilt a tiny bit to know that Faith hadn't been trapped in the equivalent of a dungeon this past year.

She took a deep breath as she approached the area where visitors could speak to the prisoners using telephones from behind some very thick yet clear plastic. Her heart rate sped up in her chest as she worried what Faith's reaction would be to seeing her, but she moved forward anyway, intent on finding peace.

Faith couldn't hide the surprise on her face, or the tears that formed in her eyes as she watched Buffy come her way. With an embarrassed yet friendly smile, Buffy sat down in front of her sister slayer, reaching for the phone with a shaking hand.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you here," Faith said softly into the receiver, her eyes much too old for her young face.

"I should have come a long time ago," Buffy replied, equally soft, squelching the lump that formed in her throat.

"Doesn't matter," Faith responded tiredly, "You're here now."

"How have you been, Faith?" Buffy asked, wondering if there was a way to stop her eyes from watering.

"I've had my good and bad days. I do a lot of thinking, and a good part of that thinking includes you," Faith whispered, her voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry, Buffy."

"Don't," Buffy said, too preoccupied to worry that the tears had started to fall. "I understand. I won't lie and say that none of it hurt, but I've done a lot of thinking myself just recently and I think that I understand."

"Do you?" Faith questioned, her face mirroring her disbelief.

Buffy ignored the question, and instead gripped the counter in front of her as if it would give her more strength. "Did I ever tell you about Kendra?"

"No," Faith replied, curious to know where this was going.

"She was the perfect slayer, every council member's wet dream. She avoided boys, didn't have friends or a social life, embraced her calling and read all the right publications. The first time I met her she wigged me out, and not just because she tried to kill me. She was everything I wasn't, and at first she made me feel like a very inadequate slayer," Buffy finished softly, her eyes down. "It was later that I realized that she didn't make all that bad of a friend."

"That sounds like a familiar song," Faith responded, fully comprehending what Buffy was trying to tell her. "Well, except for the no boys and reading all the right publications part."

Buffy smiled, looking up to meet Faith's eyes. "I figured it would, sound familiar that is."

"Does this mean you forgive me, B?" Faith got the courage to ask, her voice betraying a hint of a plea.

"Do you forgive me?" Buffy questioned in return and then went on when she saw the puzzled expression that played across Faith's face. "For being so insecure when you first came to Sunnydale, for not wanting to share my friends and family with you, for not letting you in."

"I forgive you," Faith choked softly, her own tears marring her cheeks.

"I forgive you too," Buffy replied.

Excerpt: We the Slayers

Whenever I think of Kendra I hate the Watcher's Council. She was pretty, she was smart, she was loyal, and you guys plucked her out of her home when she was just a baby and brainwashed her. There was so much she missed out on: her first dance, her first crush, her first kiss. I wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the world.

But there are other times when I think about how easy it must have been for her. She didn't have to suffer through her first broken heart, she didn't have to choose whether or not patrolling was more important than the all you-can-eat-fries night at the Bronze. Faith and I are different, we had free will, we didn't allow you watchers to do our thinking for us, though the down side of that is that we also have to live with the consequences of our choices.

Faith and Angel don't think that I understand the darkness that they both have experienced, but I do. I kill things on a nightly bases, I've chased after prey, I've ambushed demons from hiding places, I've heard the snap of bones as I've broken necks. I try not to think of these actions as portraying some secret sadistic part of my personality. I mean these things I kill are demons, right? I need to kill them to save mankind. But the truth is that I'm a hunter. Regardless of the nobility of my calling or its purpose, my very being calls for the chase.

Seeing the First Slayer in my dreams shook me up. She was the true predator, a slayer to the bone. Nothing else mattered but the hunt. There have been times in the middle of a fight that I've got a glimpse of what that feels like and it scares me. I always feel ashamed afterwards, as if maybe Dracula was right and I'm not so different from the vampires that I kill after all. They kill people, I kill them.

Faith and I have more in common than she thinks we do.

*****

"I come in peace," Buffy said softly, waving her white napkin in the air as her heart constricted at the sight of him, the way it always did when he was near. He looked so handsome, so familiar, as if her heart had signaled her brain to produce the image of her desire in front of her. He smiled his soft, beautiful smile, his brown, deep eyes showing without words how happy he was to see her.

He chuckled softly at her gesture, reaching out and taking the napkin gently from her fingers. "You don't need that, Buffy."

"I know," she replied in a whisper, having to forcibly resist reaching out to touch him. "You look good," she finished, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice.

"So do you," Angel responded, wincing at the inadequacy of the words. He stood now, as he always had, in total awe and reverence to her beauty. A patch of sunlight filtered through the windows of the hotel, catching Buffy's hair and causing it to sparkle in different hues of golden splendor, marking her as ever the vision of light that he had always known she was.

"How have you been doing?" Angel asked, remembering with anguish the last time he had seen her, crouched over her mother's grave, crying as if there was no tomorrow. He wished with everything in him that Buffy would never have to face sorrow like that again.

"Better. It still hurts but we've been doing the best we can," she answered honestly, knowing that Angel would see right through an "I'm fine," or "I'm good." To this day he could still read her as if she were an opened book laid out for him to read.

"I understand," he said, nodding and Buffy didn't doubt for a minute that he did. Angel was understanding, and sweet and caring, and a lot of things that gave her heart a hard jolt whenever she thought about it. It was too bad he didn't recognize those things in himself, though his humility was just one of his many endearing qualities.

"I'm writing a book," Buffy announced quietly, not at all surprised that he didn't break out laughing the way Willow and Xander had when she had first told them. Angel simply nodded, a smile sliding across his face as undeniable pride shinned brightly in his eyes. "The watcher's council is paying me to do it. They want to know..."

"What makes you tick," Angel finished, comprehending the motive behind the assignment. "It's a brilliant idea. You're the strongest slayer to ever have lived."

"I don't feel like the strongest slayer ever to have lived. Its funny, when Quentin Travers first told me that the council wants to understand what it's like to be a warrior, my immediate thought was that it should be you writing this book. You're a lesson in honor that I could never hope to achieve," Buffy replied, damning her eyes for watering on her again.

"Not true," Angel responded, shaking his head. "I am a man in search of repentance, but you, Buffy, you fight out of heart. There are so many things you do that could and should inspire others. You've always inspired me. The world is a better place because you are in it."

The tears that had been threatening to spill now ran freely down Buffy's cheeks.

"You know, I really needed to hear that," Buffy said softly, for once not caring about curses or separations or even darkness as she moved to meet him in a fierce hug.

"And it's the same for you, the world is a better place because you're in it," she mumbled against his shirt, rubbing her cheek gently against his chest, while hoping he realized the truth of her words.

For awhile they just clung together, two people so very much in love that it threatened to suffocate them, but after awhile the real world assaulted the quiet solitude of their embrace, the way it always did.

"Can I read your book when you're done?" Angel asked softly, gently touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers and glorying in the heat he felt there.

"Of course," Buffy replied, wiping her eyes. "You'll be the first one I send it to."

Excerpt: A Slayer in Love

I will always love him. I realized that awhile back and it's as true now as it was then. I think perhaps that I was destined to love him. It no longer matters that he left, or that we fight the good fight in different cities and for different reasons. What matters is that I, Buffy Summers, have loved fully, completely and without restraint, and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life. I love him so much that it hurts, like someone took a needle and inserted in my heart, but we live apart because we have to and because now is not the time for us to be together.

Don't get me wrong, I function without him. I am my own person. However, there will always be a part of my soul that reaches out for him. I think we both needed to learn that we are individuals. Before, when we were together, we were so dependent on one another. I know now why Angel left Sunnydale when he did, I actually understand it. One of these days I'll have to tell him that. Angel has definitely come into his own though and I'm so very, very proud of him.

He strives for humanity, fights bravely night after to night to save souls, hoping to one day gain his redemption. I wonder if Angel realizes that he already exhibits more humanity than most of the humans out there. I remember reading a phrase somewhere that claims that we as beings are more than the sum of our parts. That phrase is especially true for Angel. He may drink blood and avoid sunlight, but he helps people, touches them, and there are not many beings in the world like that. He is my role model, my own personal hero, he fights so hard overcoming the shadow of a horrible past. One day I'll have to tell him that too.

I know the council was displeased with our relationship. A slayer in love with a vampire, it must have been a great shock to you all. But I've come to realize that me being the slayer and him being a vampire does not define who we are. I am Buffy, he is Angel, and we are two souls who love each other, that's just the way it is. Take from that what you will. I will never apologize for loving Angel. It gives me comfort to know that he's out there, fighting in the night just like I am, two warriors struggling to survive. There will never be another one like him.

*****

Buffy stared with detachment at the house on the other side of the street. It had been only six years since she had lived in it, but it seemed so distant and far away that it might as well have been another lifetime. She had small memories of trick or treating down this neighborhood clutching her fathers hand, remembered scraping her knee on the pavement as she fell off her bike, remembered roller-skating down the sidewalk alongside her mother as she jogged, but that was all they were, memories. She was no longer the child who looked out on the world with naive idealism, she had aged, matured and there was no going back. With a sigh she turned and started to walk away, remembering that she had to be back in Sunnydale in time to pick Dawn up from school.

One last memory resurfaced as she drove down the street; a fifteen year old Buffy, newly called, walking up the front stairs in a daze.

"I am chosen, a slayer..What is a slayer again?"

Last Excerpt:

I have finally figured out what a slayer is. A slayer is a person, a daughter, a friend, a sister, and a lover. She loves, she feels, she thinks and she follows her heart. She likes crunchy peanut butter and mixes her orange juice with pineapple juice. She didn't learn to drive until she was eighteen, and given the proper funds she could do serious damage in a shopping mall.

She is a woman.

She is strong.

She is me.

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