Over the Buffy preview, UPN tries to tell me that I'll have to say goodbye to Buffy. Funny, feels like I already did two years ago.
Previouslies. Can't recap. Gratuitous eye-gouging.
Pan up on the main street of Sunnydale. Lines of cars inch along; between them, people on foot wander down the street carrying their most precious belongings. Ack. Remind me not to be caught in a town that lacks good public transport during an apocalypse. Buffy meanders beside the cars, surveying the scene. So, everyone is fleeing. Because Buffy is a sucky Slayer. Every car, every single pedestrian is like a personal rejection of Buffy. "Hey you!" calls a voice from off-screen. It's Clem, everyone's favorite loose-skinned, kitten-eating demon. He's driving a shiny new Beetle. Must be some high-stakes kitten poker he's been playing. Possibly with Siegfried and Roy. Clem makes a comment about the snarl of traffic. "Think these people have never seen an apocalypse before." Y'know, I'm so glad that they're finally showing us something (anything!) that I'm not even going to bust them for the fact that strange goings-on have marked Sunnydale for years and this is the first time the citizenry has seen fit to flee. Oh, but wait. I just realized that they haven't even bothered to TELL us why everyone is getting the hell out of Dodge. Sigh. I guess I've got to switch my default mode back over to bubbling hate. Pity. I was really enjoying the view from disengaged apathy.
Clem explains that things are getting bad on the Hellmouth. "You can't swing a cat without hitting some kind of demonic activity." Ah. I used to swing cats. Latch loved it. Really. When she was a kitten, she used to get in those plastic grocery store bags, and I'd swing her around my head. She even used to drag the bags out from beneath the kitchen sink and bring them to me. Fun stuff. Until the day the bag broke. Kidding! "Not that I swing cats. Or eat [them]," Clem quickly amends. He goes on to say that this time the Hellmouth energy seems more sinister. "I don't think anyone's going to be able to stop it." See? Even the people who know Buffy don't have any faith in her. Do you see how she suffers? As soon as the words have left his mouth, he says, "I mean, I'm sure you'll do fine…if anyone can do it, you can because you ROCK!" See? See how awful it is for Buffy that NOBODY has faith in her? Clem continues to stick the skin folds of his foot-area in his mouth, saying, "If you save the world I'll come back and we'll have drinks." "If"? Jeebus. This is so ham-fisted, I'm surprised that the writer didn't need to rent a monkey to type it up for him. Ahhhh. That was lovely. I just drifted into a little fantasy. A world where people really did rent monkeys to type up their scripts. But then the TWoP Secret Ops (say it ten times fast) broke into the Monkey Pool and replaced them all with Action Monkeys! Action Monkeys with highly advanced cliché detectors which automatically override the neural networks of any monkeys exposed to excessive clichés and stilted storytelling devices, causing said monkey to beat the offending writer to death with his or her own keyboard. Sigh. If only such a world existed. I might have been free of this albatross two years ago. Okay. Back to the bit of fiction you actually tuned in to read about. Clem finally decides to level with Buffy and advises her, "Maybe you should just get out of town this time."
Meanwhile, Somewhere Else In Sunnydale That Is Not The Living Room Of Casa Summers (What's up? Is it my birthday?), Giles thanks a police officer for his assistance. The officer insists that all the thanks belong to the "Inspector." He's in awe, because they don't get a lot of contact with Interpol. Heh. He asks if there's any other way he can be of assistance. Willow insists that they're fine. "Wait," says the officer confused. "Who are you?" Willow concentrates hard and with a very "these are not the droids you're looking for" delivery says, "I'm with the Inspector." He seems to be placated by this response. "You just let us know if you need help with your guy because we are itching to hand out some justice." As Willow's mind control begins to slip again, Giles hurriedly says that it's time they were "catching their flight to…Interpol," and drags Willow off. A couple of officers exit from the police station and hand an escaped fugitive report to the first guy. He's pleased. "Sounds like a situation that needs some justice."