The girl who was my best friend through secondary school and high school did become a slayer, of the "Normal Again" variety. She spent the best part of our twenties battling the monsters in her mind, fighting depression, schizophrenia or whatever it is that her brain is malfunction with. The psychiatrist seem to have a hard time agreeing on a diagnosis.
If I swap our high school for Sunnydale High, though, imagining the youngsters we were in that setting, I can easily see her as the secret slayer and me as her slayerette and sidekick. She had such an amazing presence, was strong, intelligent, pretty ... all the things I wanted to be. As a sixteen-year-old, I wanted nothing more strongly than I wanted to matter, so I can see myself jumping into the fray with her, even if the battle wasn't mine, even if my heart wasn't truly in it, because it would make me feel like I mattered. Borrowed, secret glory would feel better than no glory.