Dawn: Wait! You can’t do this. I'm the little sister! I'm the spin-off hope! Joss says you must love me!
Lead Monkey: Hmmm. Do you have a flag?
Dawn: Uh, no. But, uh, I have shiny hair!
Lead Monkey: No flag, huh? We're not stopping.
They're mean, but I think I love them.
In the kitchen, the Junior Misses drool over weaponry. Mollie likes the crossbow. Shrinking Vi-olet is a mace girl. Rona goes for the "feel of wood in [her] hand." That's not Kennedy's style, but we already twigged to that. Dawn passive-aggressives, "Oh right. You guys are going on your little group patrol." Kennedy is excited about actually getting to kill things; Dawn squeaks defensively, "I've killed things!" Yeah. Most of the B-plots in Season Six, as well as many viewers' love for the show. Enter Buffy. Hot on her heels is Andrew, begging to go with. Andrew: "I'm not begging!" Buffy: "You're like a small dog, dancing for Snausages." Okay, that got a hee from me. Andrew whines that it's only because Buffy thinks that he is evil. "He's not evil," asides Buffy to the Misses, "but when he gets close to it he picks up its flavor. Like a mushroom or something." ["God. Andrew as a mushroom? How I wish he were kept in the dark and fed shit." -- Sep] ["Actually, I think that's the fate of the audience these days, Sep." -- Ace] Oh. The Mouth of Buffy has spoken. Hear ye! Andrew is not evil! Except that he killed his best friend, plotted to take over Sunnydale, went along with plans to rape Katrina, and when that went sour sat idly by and thought it was "cool" when he got away with her murder. Funny how the bar of evil has been set a little differently ever since Spike became a regular. Speaking of the devil, here he is. The girls greet him with excited twitters. And that's Exhibit Number 782,248,521 proving that we really are dealing with the dregs of the chosen line here. Buffy tells them to gear up, as it's time to go. Dawn sulkily watches them leave. I look around for the Action Monkeys, but it turns out they're all in the Summers's bathroom, fixing their faces and chattering. They're happy to see me (and offer to help "fix" my eyebrows) but decline to harass Dawn again until after the next commercial break. Must be Monkey union rules I didn't know about.
In the dining room, Willow lays out her ingredients, saying the name of each individually to take up any time that might be left over for plots of any sort. Andrew and Dawn are in attendance. Willow stumbles over the plural of "chrysalis" and I cry real, hot, salty tears for the Willow of Seasons One through Three, who would not only know the usual form of chrysalides but also the less common form of chrysalides. But no! All of the Scoobs now are brainless shells of their former selves because most of the writers who have become brainless husks of their former selves. It's art imitating life, and it's making me cry. Dawn speculates about the identity of the newest Junior Miss, and hopes that it isn't her lab partner, who fainted while dissecting a pig. Andrew: "Killing pigs is just so wrong! And also hard." Ha ha! Isn't Andrew's villainous ineptness amusing? Didn't you all just have a hearty belly laugh when he slid a knife into Jonathan's intestines? No? Well, what's wrong with you? Andrew is obviously comedy gold! Willow explains that she's going to conjure up a light to locate the potential and illuminate her with a glowing aura. Which will probably make it that much easier for the Bringers to find her. There's also going to be a map involved. Willow doing a locator spell with a map? Oh, great -- because that never goes wrong. Willow starts the spell in the living room, throwing various ingredients on the fire. Immediately a stench and an orange cloud emanate from the fireplace. It kind of hangs around the living room, causing the Scoobs to believe that Willow flubbed another spell. Dawn goes to open the front door and air the place out, but the cloud zings in her direction and pins her against the door. Everyone looks surprised as the orange cloud hovers around her torso.