In Andrew Wells’ apartment in Oakland, Jonathan Levinson tells his friend that being a disembodied holographic consciousness sucks. Andrew doesn’t disagree, but he is investigating avenues to build his old friend a new body. Unfortunately for Andrew, Jonathan has no patience left. He thinks Andrew’s slacking.

He’s even searched Andrew’s hard drive.

Andrew insists he’s tried everything. He thinks cloning might be possible – but Jonathan would have to grow up first. Animating dead flesh is more complex than television implies and, as it turns out, electricity doesn’t really ignite a spark of life. It just burns stuff. As Andrew moves to go upstairs from the basement, claiming his comic books have lied to him his whole life, he shrieks in horror.

A hand with too many fingers comes down the basement steps.

There’s a face protruding from it.

Andrew whirls in shock as the Sculptor emerges from the shadows, full height drawn, imposing his silhouette over Andrew. Andrew throws ninja stars at the creature, but the Sculptor finds it amusing as they slide through his constantly shifting skin.

When Jonathan makes a comment about being unable to help, a smile passes over the Sculptor’s leering face. He will gladly shape a body for Jonathan to Andrew’s specifications – in return for one simple thing.

Andrew hesitates.

“My soul? My virtue?” he stammers, nervously.

As the hand with too many fingers skitters up Andrew to rest on his shoulder, more flesh avatars surround him.

“Bring me the Slayer’s Scythe,” the demon lord snarls. “And all you desire shall be yours.”

Elsewhere, in Nevada – specifically the Hoover Dam – Buffy and Spike are in battle alongside D’Hoffryn and his Magic Council. A Kraken is rising from the waters below as Buffy throws the Scythe with precision.

D’Hoffryn yells at her. They need not destroy the creature. It provides an ecological function in its own dimension – they need to send it back. Willow is trying, but opening portals is proving more difficult. Maybe, as she points out, because they’ve made them that way.

With D’Hoffryn’s help, Willow manages to open the portal and the allies converge on the creature, planning to push it back. But Buffy has been grabbed by a tentacle and screams for help. Spike, with the aid of a zombie bride – part of the Council – rescues her as she slices herself free.

Buffy is not amused. She almost ended up lost in another dimension. However, there is some good news: her Scythe is the most effective weapon they have. Spike disagrees with her and starts bickering, but Willow orders them all to stop arguing – they’re all exhausted.

“There’s tired, and then there’s careless. Sloppy,” Buffy says, firmly.

Lake Stevens, Willow’s commanding officer, agrees with Buffy. Perhaps shifts would alleviate some tension.

Buffy points at Lake angrily. “You don’t deploy me anywhere, lady. I go where I want.”

Willow raises her voice. “Y’know what’s affecting us more than being tired? The infighting. And I’m sick of it. You guys do your thing – we’ll do ours. At least keep each other in the loop so we’re not all fighting the same monsters?”

She boards Lake’s chopper without looking at Buffy or Spike.

Buffy tries to explain, but Willow is already in the air.

She turns to Spike. “Does it always have to be this hard?”

“Part and parcel of a state of constant war. Frays the nerves.”

D’Hoffryn glides towards them.

“Once again,” he says, a tone of superiority and boredom in his voice, “I remind you that you possess the Vampyr book. The laws of this world’s magic are yours to shape. Your refusal to add to our power has crossed the line from principle to stupidity.”

Buffy is angry, her fist tightening around the Scythe in her hand. She turns to D’Hoffryn.

“No. I’d be stupid to make you stronger just because you want me to. Or anyone.”

D’Hoffryn raises his hand. He doesn’t agree. He proposes that they formalise their arrangement – make sure the people in command have power whilst they’re in charge of the Council.

Spike tells Buffy that he agrees.

“Having that kind of ace up our sleeve and not using it, with the state of the world, seems a bit… well… daft.”

One of the Council members, a Sprite, promises they would not abuse the power. D’Hoffryn agrees. If a woodland creature and a vengeance demon can come together for the sake of the world, then so can Buffy.

As a vote amongst the Council about sharing their power begins, Buffy gets voted down.

She agrees to their request – but on one condition: she wants to talk to Giles first.

Back at the apartment she shares with Willow and Buffy, Dawn has some friends over for a study session. They’re all taking Psych 101, and it’s proving harder than the three of them expected. The conversation shifts to why they chose Psych in the first place.

Dawn answers calmly. After everything she’s been through – with her mom and everything else – she’s thinking about becoming a grief counsellor. She wants to help other people deal.

Her friend agrees. The world is changing so quickly, she’s worried about the future. But any further talk is cut short when, with a dash of blue light and a surprisingly loud sizzle, Buffy and the others – including D’Hoffryn and his Council – appear before them.

Buffy takes in the stunned looks of Dawn’s friends. “Bad time?” she asks.

Dawn’s friend turns to her, eyes fixed on the teleporting group. The zombie bride member of the Council, resembling something out of a familiar Japanese horror film, approaches them, sending a ripple of unease through the room.

Dawn offers to take her friends and leave, but Buffy insists they’ll go. What Dawn is doing matters. She should hold on to it – the little portion of normalcy she has.

As the group leaves, Dawn’s friend turns to her. “Psych is totally the right major for you.”

In Oakland, Andrew stands with his hands on his hips, defiant. He tells the Sculptor he won’t betray his friends.

Jonathan scoffs. “You literally stabbed me in the back! You’re betraying your friend by not getting me a new body!”

Smiling, the Sculptor agrees with Andrew’s ‘small’ friend. He insists the Slayer will know nothing. One of his avatars steps forward, holding an exact replica of the Scythe. It’s cloaked in a glamour – Buffy won’t recognise it’s a fake.

“When it is inevitably destroyed in battle, she will credit her opponent’s power. Your subterfuge will never be known. And who is to say she will not yet prevail against us? The Slayer is capable. We merely ask you to… level the playing field, as mortals say.”

His voice is thick, like churning molasses. Like a stomach swirling.

Jonathan’s holographic form moves closer as Andrew holds the replica of the Scythe.

“You murdered me, Andrew. I was your best friend. And you took my life. You talk about redemption. Wanting to make up for the things you’ve done. This is your chance.”

Andrew doesn’t answer. He simply looks down at the floor.

In Giles’s apartment, an agreement has been struck.

“D’Hoffryn, as head of the Council, you will be granted the power to detect and pinpoint the usage of concentrated mystic energy.”

He gestures to the other Council members. They’ve all been given abilities to combat the demon lords – abilities that make them far more capable of defending the Earth.

He takes off his glasses to clean them.

“To reiterate, these privileges belong to the office, not the individual. A simple quorum of other members may remove anyone from their seat by voice vote.”

He glances at the creature known as the Quiet Man, a mute.

“Or, ah, the appropriate gesture,” Giles concludes.

Monarch the Sprite Spirit is pleased. With more power, fewer of them will be needed in battle, and they can return to their normal lives and duties. She turns to Giles with a smile. She senses his pain – having to live as an adult in a child’s form. She offers him a visit to her other-dimensional homeland with the Fae Folk.

“You will be judged by your character alone,” she tells him.

Giles is delighted by the invitation, grateful that someone sees past his resurrected younger form. Buffy thinks it’s the wrong time for him to be dimension-hopping solo, but he insists that maybe being around non-humans will make him feel like one again.

He promises to check in every day. But he’s a grown man, and he’s going where he’ll be treated as such.

Spike watches Buffy as Giles steps through the portal with Monarch.

“If the poor sod’s happier there, who are we to stop him?”

Buffy is surprised. She never thought Giles would give up his normal life.

Spike chuckles.

“Normal life? When have we ever had a normal life?”

He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. Now that they’re alone, he suggests they resume other, more pleasant activities.

In Spike’s room, preparing for bed, he can tell Buffy is distracted. He reminds her that Giles will be fine, but the Slayer flicks her head around towards him.

“It’s not that. I just can’t escape the feeling that giving the Council those expanded powers was… I don’t know… a cop-out, maybe? Like we really did it just to make our lives easier.”

“And save other people’s lives, lest we forget,” Spike replies, snuggling into the bed next to her. “Seems like the right call to me. But if you’ve got concerns I’m not thinking of…”

She sighs. “Nothing specific. But any time we write something in that book, I worry about what could go wrong.”

She glances at the bedside table, her cross necklace lying on top.

“But that’s life, isn’t it?” she says. “There’s no instruction manual. No one’s gonna tell you what to do. I mean, a lot of people will tell you what to do, but that’s the scary truth: they don’t have the answers either.”

They’re all just winging it. Living their lives, making decisions, and dealing with the consequences.

The morning after, Spike leans over Buffy. She hasn’t slept well. He has an idea, though – they’ve somehow found themselves with free time. With the new rules in the book and the Council’s powers in place, D’Hoffryn’s people can handle any issues.

Buffy suggests an Italian place she’s heard good reviews about. Spike proposes a good old-fashioned drinking session, but Buffy’s not feeling it. She wants to go for a run. It’s been a while, she says, since she’s seen the sun.

Spike tells her it’s one of those things you miss when it’s gone. He’ll stay safe indoors and feed the animals. Buffy smiles, nods, and tells him she’ll be back.

Grabbing her water bottle from the apartment, Buffy bumps into Dawn, heading for class. She apologises for interrupting the study session, but Dawn says it helped – she told her friends that the Council guys with stitched-up eyes come after people who don’t study hard, and surprisingly, after that, they buckled down.

Buffy asks if Willow’s been home. Dawn tells her she likely stayed at Lake’s place again. She asks if they’re fighting.

“I wouldn’t know if I’d call it that. But we keep butting heads.”

Dawn smiles as they exit the building. “It’s a weird time. Everyone’s tired. It’ll get better.”

With an excitement Buffy hasn’t seen in a while, Dawn bounces down the street to meet her friends. As Buffy puts on her headphones and starts to run, she doesn’t see Andrew lurking by the building.

As Buffy runs, she thinks of Spike and what he said about a normal life – with her. She watches couples walking dogs, feeding birds, holding hands in their eighties. Her grin fades into a frown.

How can I ever have that?

In Buffy’s apartment, whispering how sorry he is, Andrew reaches for the Scythe.

Later that night, in a cemetery in Oakland, Andrew approaches the shadows and the Sculptor. He has the Slayer’s blade in his hands.

Jonathan, meanwhile, has been given a flesh avatar. His chip has been integrated into its brain chemistry by the Sculptor’s magic. He’s delighted. Andrew brings the Scythe forward.

“My part of the bargain fulfilled.”

As Jonathan grins at his friend, the Sculptor roars at Andrew.

“Be advised, however. Without my power animating it, this flesh will decay. Should you have pangs of conscience, any thought of treachery…”

Andrew interrupts the demon. “Kinda already did.”

And at his words, Buffy, Spike, Willow, Dawn and Xander emerge from the foliage. Buffy smiles.

“Hey, you held up your end. You brought him the real Scythe. He’s just going to get it sharp end first.”

The Sculptor roars, furious. Jonathan races to Andrew, demanding how he could do this to him.

“I’ll die!” he yells.

Andrew looks at him with regret.

“I know, Jonathan. And I am more sorry than I can say. But I couldn’t go through with it. I can’t keep being that guy who thinks he can make up for old sins with new ones. You’re not Jonathan. I killed Jonathan. And there’s no way I can ever make that right.”

When Jonathan says he has the memories and the feelings, Andrew insists he’ll try to create another body – maybe a robot one, or an AI environment. But Jonathan doesn’t want that. He surprises himself – and Andrew – by punching him in the face.

“I’m done trusting you. All you’ve ever done is screw me over! I always end up dead, or humiliated, or alone! FROM NOW ON, I DO WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SEEMS TO: LOOK OUT FOR MYSELF!”

And with that angry yell hanging in the air, Jonathan Levinson leaves the cemetery – and Andrew – alone.

The Sculptor is still battling Buffy, with Willow charging up her Scythe with additional power.

“I am the Sculptor!” the demon roars, all four of his bulging eyes fixed on the Slayer. “You are but meat! By what madness do you hope to stand against me?”

Buffy smiles.

“Easy. My friends are with me.”

She spins the Scythe up and it glows with red flame. She slices it towards the Sculptor, bisecting him down the middle.

“Yours aren’t.”

As the Sculptor burns, Willow is delighted.

“Finally. We finally got one! And D’Hoffryn should be able to track the others with his new powers. We might just be making headway on this.”

Buffy turns to Andrew.

“Are you okay? That must have been tough.”

He looks at her, tears in his eyes.

“You did the right thing, you know, coming to us.”

Xander smiles at him.

“For what it’s worth, you never would’ve gotten out of that apartment with the real Scythe. It’s got magic protection up the hoo-hah.”

Buffy smiles.

“Which is true. But totally not the point. You said you were going to do things differently, Andrew. And when it really counted, you did. I’m proud of you.”

Andrew smiles slightly, but he still looks upset.

“Had to start sometime.”

Xander tells him that Jonathan will turn up again. Andrew will keep working on a fix for him, so it’s ready when he comes back.

“I’ll miss him,” Andrew says, sorrowfully. “It was nice having him back, and not mad at me. I could almost pretend I hadn’t…”

He trails off.

“But enough of that. At some point, even I have to stop living in a fantasy world, and face up to the real one. Even if it hurts.”