good slayers go to heaven
To anyone who finds this letter,
Into every generation, a Slayer is born. One girl, in all the world, a Chosen one. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires and stop the spread of evil.
I was that girl. Notice the 'was'. Past tense. In the past. In other words, dead. Behind the supernatural strength and the spider sense lies an ordinary human girl with all the frailties and weaknesses that come as part of the parcel of being alive.
I have saved the world. I can say this and know it's true. I have defeated Master vampires, sent a love to hell, blown up a school, ripped out the 'heart' of a cybernetic demon man and defeated a god. How many other people can say that?
My own body killed me. Fragile human bones are not made for surviving falling off high towers and hitting the ground via a quick trip through an otherworldly vortex that snapped light across my struggling body, tore me apart from the inside and put me back together. My spine shattered as I crashed into a pile of crates, the snap of my neck was the fatal blow. I'm thankful for that. I died in battle, not as some random vamp's lucky hit. A far more noble death for a Slayer.
I left behind the people I care for with all my heart. I tried to call out to them as they crowded around my still and broken human body, each one shaking with tears. The world was dammed in their eyes.
I always knew I'd never make 25 or get married and live in a house with a white picket fence and 2.4 children. Slayers have short life spans, for obvious reasons.
But it still hurts. And now that I'm dead, I have to wonder what is in store for me? Do they have some sort of heaven for Slayers? I guess I'll have to find out.
- Buffy Summers. Slayer, 1996 - 2001.
d e a d l e t t e r s h o m e