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Not in a million years would Buffy have expected this. After all she had been through, all she had seen as a slayer, she had never been more sure in her stance that Twilight was something unbelievable, unnatural, and unbalanced. She understood that it was supposed to be pleasurable, the ideal, the dream. But she didn’t buy it. If this was the ideal, she wanted nothing to do with it, no matter who it was offering it.
With a sigh of frustration and a sound of disgust, she set aside the thick black book with its cover featuring an apple and walked away from it.