Previously, Spike had the hots for the Slayer and appeared to be threatened by a large and lumpy potato. Dawn finds out her nature, and Glory and Ben are a wee bit closer than most siblings who don't share the last name of Dollanganger.
Bronze. Grand re-opening. Look! It's the Bronze! With a band playing. Way to try and relive that glory-day vibe through nostalgic sets, eh? Too bad it's not at all like the Bronze of yore, what with the incredibly bright lighting. Down on the dance floor, Tara and Willow are dancing and (gasp!) are actually touching. Xander and Anya are also dancing, but really, the less said about THAT particular state of affairs the better. I get a giggle out of the fact that all of the extras in the Bronze are at least thirty-five. Probably to keep the gang looking younger by comparison. A few more seasons and they're going to be tripping over the extras' canes. Pan across the floor to a couch, where Buffy is sitting all sad and lonely in her leather pants. I brace myself for MopeyBuffy, but fortunately Spike comes on the scene and sits down next to her and OH MY GOD. Spike! What the hell has happened? The chinos? The blue button-down shirt? Somebody help him! He's fallen into the Gap and can't get up. Which isn't to say he doesn't look hot, but it's just wrong. So Spike starts bitching about how they've upped the prices to pay for the renovations, and I guess for the first time since forever they've actually had enough cash to pay their electricity bill. Anyway. Buffy cuts him off at the knees verbally, asking him what the heck he's doing here. Spike thought Buffy could use some company, but is quickly disabused of that notion by Buffy's blank look. Spike tries to guilt Buffy, reminding her that he's really been helping a lot lately, but he's interrupted by Xander, who tells him to shove off with a "Hey Evil Dead, you're in my seat." Evil Dead eh? I'm just going to take that as a shout-out to me and my Evil Dead t-shirt that I ordered out of the Fangoria (shut up) catalog twelve years ago and have been wearing consistently ever since. David Fury must have seen me in it or something.
Spike stalks off, and Anya observes that Xander hurt Spike's feelings. Xander pretty much channels me when he says, "You should never hurt the feelings of a brutal killer." He reconsiders for a moment before adding, "You know, that's actually some pretty good advice." Xander, I mean Payday Man, offers to buy drinks for the gang. Willow requests water, but Xander scoffs, as that "poses no challenge for Payday Man," before noticing that Spike has snaked his change, and he goes off to track him down and -- CRAP. I just knocked the remote over and now I have to bend all the way down to the floor to pick it up. Why, WHY must I be taunted by objects that are not within arm's reach? Damn the inferior genetic material that gave me such stubby arms. Ahem. Sorry. That's my issue. Buffy notices Willow fumbling with a generic non-product-placed bottle of pain-relief tablets and asks after her frequent headaches. Tara chimes in with a "Honey, in case you didn't hear me the first six thousand times, no more teleportation spells." Yeah, I bet she says that to all the girls. Wait. What the hell does that even mean? I'm not making any sense here. I'm still off my game from over-exerting myself earlier, obviously. When I got up this morning, I promised myself that I could have a bit of tea and a lie down just as soon as I sat upright for a couple of hours and pressed a whole bunch of buttons with my fingers. I wasn't really planning on having to move today and I think I pulled something. Anyway. Buffy notices Ben sitting somewhere else and goes over to talk to him. Oh GREAT. You know how, whenever there's an outbreak of some sort of nasty infectious disease, during the news reports they often retrace the path of the virus on a map? Well, that's what my mind is doing with Ben right about now. First I only had to live in fear during the hospital scenes. But then he leached into the hospital parking lot. And now that he's just showing up at the Bronze all willy-nilly, he could just ooze on down the road anywhere his little slime trail will take him. Curses. Greasy Intern Ben is spreading. I wonder what his vector of infection is? Anyway. They talk. I ignore them. All is well.