You ask someone who loves BtVS why they love it, and you may get a hundred different answers from as many people. The humor, the horror, the writing, the acting, the drama, the way those things blend together in the most singular of ways.
They are lying.
That was what hooked them. Window dressing to the truth of the matter: there is not a single person who loves that show that does not have an emotional connection with its narrative and characters. It means something to us. It raised us, consoled us, made us laugh and cry and scream, kept us up at night with crosses clutched in sweaty palms. When the characters die, a little piece of us goes with them.
It’s why we care so much. Why we have been waiting for months for Dollhouse, why we know what all the Scoobies are doing these days, why we listen to what Joss says with rapt attention.
It’s not hero worship, it’s family. Not with him, or any of the other wonderful artists involved, but with the story, and by extension with eachother. This one thing binds us all together: our lives changed when we met Buffy Anne Summers. We became stronger, more resolute, more pure in our belief that good is in the world, that shitty things happen, that people die and sometimes that sucks, that if you fight hard enough and long enough you can beat the bastards back to hell.
And isn’t that what keeps us all going?
