A Few Thoughts on Angelus (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

*Season 2 spoilers.*

A while back, I started an on-and-off rewatch of Buffy and Angel. I trailed off during season 4 of Buffy, because Whedon, but I imagine I’ll get back to it eventually. Today, though, I’m looking back at season 2 and the Angelus arc.

I’ll admit it: the first time I watched this show, I was enthralled by the second half of season 2. Buffy’s vampire boyfriend loses his soul and becomes the world’s cruelest and most vicious superpowered ex ever (at least until Jessica Jones and Killmonger came along)? It culminates in an intense swordfight, and to keep the world from being sucked into Hell, Buffy is forced to kill Angel just moments after his soul is unexpectedly restored? So help me, you could eat that angst with a spoon.

Now, I recognized issues with this storyline over the years. The creepiness of the immortal Angelus being obsessed with his 17-year-old ex-girlfriend—and really, their ages are a problem in the ship as a whole. The textbook fridging of Jenny Calendar. Xander’s choice (likely rooted in part in his ongoing jealousy of Angel) not to tell Buffy that Willow would be attempting to restore Angel’s soul as Buffy went into battle, blindsiding her when the critical switch happens after it’s already too late.

But as I rewatched the arc more recently, another issue leapt out at me. In its early years, Buffy uses its monsters as metaphors for adolescence, running with the whole “high school is hell, literally” angle. The Angelus storyline is no exception. The particulars of the Romani curse that gave the ruthless, sadistic vampire his soul back, forcing him to live with the guilt of all the inhuman cruelty he’d committed, dictate that his soul will be stripped away if he ever experiences a moment of “perfect happiness.” Generally speaking, the show (and Angel to follow) takes that to mean sex, especially sex with a partner he truly loves. That means that Angel loses his soul soon after having sex with Buffy, her first time.

The metaphor here is about girls who sleep with their “perfect guy,” at which point he suddenly changes on them: maybe growing cold or mean, maybe casually discarding her, maybe becoming possessive and controlling. In Buffy’s case, the change is especially brutal, as Angel becomes the unrepentant killer he’d been before the Romani curse. Not only does Angelus taunt her with memories of their past love, but he stalks her and her family, and Buffy feels an extra stab of guilt at every person he kills before she’s prepared to face him.

But here’s the thing. In the real world, those “perfect” boyfriends aren’t actually good guys. They know how to turn on the charm and fake sensitivity, pulling girls in and then dropping the routine once they get what they want, sex. It’s not the girls’ fault for sleeping with them. They were always toxic, and they tricked the girls into thinking otherwise.

With Angel and Buffy, Angel is a good guy. He’s been fighting alongside her to battle demons and other vampires. He trusts and respects her strength, he cares deeply about her, and he’s guided by a conscience weighed down by his past atrocities. In his case, sleeping with Buffy literally does turn him evil.

Now, I’m not saying that was the thesis Whedon set out to make with this storyline, but it does suggest that he didn’t look beyond a surface level at his metaphor. He saw Innocent Girls who lose their virginity and then lose the loving boyfriend they thought they knew. He identified sex as the catalyst for the change, but he didn’t delve into why and how that change happens. As a result, one of the show’s most iconic arcs is shaped around a clumsy moral about the perils of a young woman giving her heart (and her body) away.

Unfortunate Relationship Tropes: Anything for Love

I haven’t done Unfortunate Relationship Tropes since I introduced the feature, back when I discussed Amy (later Clara’s) unfortunate habit of preferring death to carrying on without their beaus on Doctor Who.  Today, the trope in question has copious offenders, but in exploring it, I’m primarily looking at Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.  (Spoilers for both shows.)

The premise is simple.  One character is in danger, possibly on the point of death.  While everyone panics on their behalf, their love interest goes for the full, “This is X we’re talking about, and you can’t begin to know how I feel!!!  Why are we just standing around when we should be bending the heavens to rescue them, consequences be damned!!!!”  And since both series frequently deal with apocalypse-level events, those potential consequences can be pretty far-reaching.  It’s tricky, because it’s not cool to have the heroes all-but-literally say, “The world can go to hell as long as I can save him/her.”  Surely, our heroes should be able to recognize that, no matter how painful it may be, the world has to come first (not to mention, the imperiled love interest is part of the world that risks destruction if the heroes don’t intervene.)  Yet, even though we want the heroes do the noble thing and prioritize the good of the world, we’re personally invested in the imperiled character.  So, for the hero to say, “Good luck, babe – I gotta focus on the big picture.  Hope you don’t die in the meantime!” doesn’t really engender support, either.

This trope plays out numerous times in the Buffyverse.  On Buffy, when Willow is kidnapped by the Mayor, Oz is so bent on protecting Willow above all else that he forces the gang’s hand into giving the Mayor what he wants in exchange for Willow, severely weakening their arsenal against him.  This seems minor compared to other examples, but it’s significant for me because Oz takes everyone’s choice away; while the others are understandably freaked but trying to discuss what they need to do, he unilaterally makes the decision for them.  When Faith poisons Angel, Buffy’s ready to straight-up sacrifice Faith to save him.  This is huge – not only would it obviously result in Faith’s death, but it’s a potentially-damning act that Buffy may not be able to come back from.  On Angel, when Cordelia is taken over by an ancient malevolence, Angel is adamantly against fighting it in any way that would harm Cordy.  In holding back, he exposes the world to incredible evil, and the rest of the season is spent trying to stop the force that’s born that day.  It’s noteworthy, though, that Buffy’s most extreme example involves sisters, not lovers.  When Glory plans to use Dawn’s blood to open a gate to a hell dimension – one that will only close when she dies – Buffy is prepared to kill her own friends to keep them from bringing things to a swift end if Glory succeeds.  Even though unimaginable horrors will be unleashed on the world and Dawn will likely die regardless, Buffy insists that, “The last thing she’ll see is me protecting her.”  In the end, when hell opens, Buffy stops it by sacrificing, not Dawn, but herself.

That said, the shows get points for subverting the trope on rare, important occasions.  There’s Angel and Spike, who, on Angel, let Fred succumb to Illyria rather than allow half the world be infected.  Both of them, though, are Fred’s friends rather than lovers.  If Wesley had been there, what would he have done?  But the greatest example is probably my favorite moment in either series – Buffy stabbing Angel to keep the world from being sucked into hell.  It’s a devastating scene, with Angel just regaining his soul and unsure of what’s going on, and Buffy, wrecked, realizing what she has to do.  But that’s the thing:  she has to do it, and she does, for the greater good, despite how the cost destroys her.  That right there is Buffy’s Biggest Damn Hero moment.

Relationship Spotlight: Xander Harris, Buffy Summers & Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Before there was Harry, Hermione, and Ron, there was Buffy, Willow, and Xander (and yes, I maintain that the Buffy trio was a precursor to the Harry Potter team.  I mean, come on!  The Chosen One, the nerdy girl, and the insecure wisecracker?  Sound familiar?)  For me, Buffy the Vampire Slayer only got better when it expanded its cast – I love Oz, and Anya is fabulous – but there’s something so special about these three.

First, there’s the simple fact that Buffy so quickly becomes friends with Willow and Xander.  Buffy’s new in school and desperate to fit in, and being immediately taken under Cordelia’s wing gives her a chance at the same popularity she had in LA.  However, it speaks to Buffy’s character that she doesn’t even consider joining Cordelia in spurning losers/geeks like Xander and Willow.  Buffy’s conscious of her image and wants to be popular, but her kindness and sense of justice outweigh those desires easily.  And so, even as Willow awkwardly tries to warn Buffy about the social dangers of hanging out with her, Buffy does precisely what she wants and befriends Willow and Xander, Cordelia be damned.

At first glance, just being friends with someone like Buffy probably seems like a big enough change for Willow and Xander, but of course they both radically adjust their definition of “big change” when they get to the real revelation:  Sunnydale is a frequent stomping ground for vampires and other demons, and Buffy has been endowed with superpowers to fight them.  Despite their shock and the very real threat to their safety – now, Buffy is the one trying to warn them off – they instantly fall in line with Buffy, unwilling to sit on the bench when the world needs protecting. 

With Harry Potter, the main thing Harry has going for him is a prophecy of his all-importance, but Buffy is literally capable of things that her friends aren’t.  She has superhuman strength and agility and is generally a lot less breakable than Willow and Xander.  So, she has more of a point when she gets on the “lonely savior” kick and tries to sideline her friends for their own protection.  But despite the disparity, Xander and Willow never back down from the fight.  They do whatever they can to help Buffy, from researching demons to learning magic, from whittling stakes to wielding them.  And that’s the kind of people they are – having learned what’s out there, they have to help, and knowing that their friend stands between the world and hell, they have to stand beside her.

Really, this is what sets Buffy apart from so many slayers who came before her.  I mean, yes, Buffy’s amazing and strong and brave, and even though she’s a teenager, I kind of want to be her when I grow up.  But the slayer line is long, and she’s not the only amazing, strong, brave one.  So, when we look at why she’s able to survive so many years and withstand so much, the difference is that she’s not doing it alone.  She doesn’t have to be everything because she has other people’s talents to lean on; Willow has a far greater aptitude for research, and Buffy depends on her insight and research.  She goes into the fray with people at her back, and when things go badly, she has Xander to make her smile and remind her of all that she can do.  Buffy’s the Chosen One, so the burden of holding the demons back is ultimately hers, but thanks to her friends, she’s not the only one shouldering it.

Favorite Characters: Oz (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Don’t get me wrong – I’m a fan of the whole Witches in Love thing, and in its day, Willow/Tara offered critical representation that was sorely lacking on most of TV.  Liking that relationship, however, doesn’t mean I can’t also love Willow’s first squeeze, a certain taciturn guitar player.  (Some spoilers for Oz-related plots in seasons 2-4.)

Oz is, like a number of characters I’ve highlighted on the blog, privileged by his supporting player status.  He doesn’t get weighed down much by high drama elsewhere in the plot, and that helps him to avoid the nearly inevitable pitfalls of being a major character in a genre series:  temporary “dark” arcs, story-demanded bone-headedness, and general moral failings.  TV shows need conflict, of course, and I love me some flawed characters, but shouldering so much of that conflict means they more frequently wind up doing things that make me want to smack them.  If Oz is easy to love, it’s in part because the story rarely has him making those kinds of mistakes.

Instead, he’s mostly just fun and awesome.  He’s an effortless “cool kid” in a band, but when I say effortless, I literally mean “without effort.”  He doesn’t try to be cool and makes no attempt to be as socially desirable as he is.  He’s utterly mellow, with a laconic unflappability that aggravates higher-strung characters like Xander.  After seeing Buffy stake a vampire for the first time and being unceremoniously informed that Sunnydale is overrun with demons, he simply replies, “It explains a lot.”  His nonchalant brevity is a regular source of humor in the face of apocalyptic catastrophe, and his quiet confidence is always present but never insists upon itself.

One of his greatest qualities is, of course, his love for Willow.  Like many fans, I was wholly won over by sweet, shy, nerdy Willow in season 1 and wanted better for her than an unrequited crush on a mostly tone-deaf Xander.  So, when Oz comes along and is instantly captivated with her (dressed as an Eskimo in a party filled with skimpily-costumed girls – sweetest meet-cute ever, and they don’t even meet in that scene,) he immediately scores some major fandom points.  After a slow-burn start, Willow/Oz is a relationship that’s mostly left to its own devices in season 2.  While everyone else is swinging from one extreme to another and physically going to hell, Willow and Oz pretty much get to be fun and cute, with her being all bubbly and adorable about having a boyfriend and him being everything she needs to go “Xander who?”  Even their biggest roadblock that season, the revelation that Oz is a werewolf, is pretty easily dealt with once it’s out in the open.

I really like the plots we get about Oz’s lycanthropy (well, I’m not crazy about the season 4 unpleasantness, but the fact that he’s a werewolf isn’t what makes that storyline unpleasant.)  Given how chill Oz is as a human, and how gentle and loving he is with Willow, it’s an even greater contrast to see him transform into a snarling monster.  It’s one of the only things that can really freak him out.  Although he gets into the routine of locking himself up before the full moon and almost never talks about it, his worst fear is of the wolf breaking out and hurting someone, especially Willow or one of his friends.  When he frantically pores over the newspaper the morning after escaping  his cage or when, his senses disrupted by a malevolent demon, he leaves his friends and desperately pleads with himself not to change, we see a fuller character than Willow’s boyfriend or a foil for Xander.  They’re stories about Oz and, as such, offer a glimpse into everything he doesn’t talk about.

Favorite Characters: Buffy Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

 

There’s an episode of Spaced where all the characters are startled in the middle of the night.  Each in turn shouts something different – “I’m sorry!” from Daisy, “I’m hit!” from Mike, and “I’m blind!” from Brian.  Tim, however, calls out for someone to save him:  “Buffy!” he cries.

 

As well he should.  It kills me that Buffy the Vampire Slayer existed (albeit in its later seasons) while I was in high school and I never watched it.  Every teenage girl ought to be exposed to Buffy and her devoted gang of Scoobies.  I know I could’ve used a hero like her.

 

At the start of the series, sophomore Buffy Summers is the slayer, the solitary chosen one imbued with extraordinary powers to fight vampires and other demons.  She has super strength and incredibly fighting abilities honed by her watcher Giles, a trainer and mentor.  She alone has this power, and when she dies, another slayer will be called.

 

However, she’s also every inch a teenage girl, and a rather girly one at that.  She likes clothes, boys, and junk food, and although she’s bright, her grades aren’t stellar and there’s only so many times she can say “a demon ate my homework.”  One can never forget that she didn’t chose to become the slayer; she was chosen, and there are days when she’d much rather be an ordinary girl.  Days when the principal grows suspicious of the trouble that seems to follow her, when she gets grounded for sneaking out in the middle of night, when a pesky apocalypse gets in the way of a date with a cute boy.

 

Oh, to count the ways I love Buffy.  Obviously, she can handle herself in a fight, and while she has her unmotivated moments, she’s fantastically determined when she puts her mind to it.  She has bravery in spades – more than once, she goes into battle with a far more powerful opponent, sometimes knowing her death has been prophesied, but she goes anyway.  In the face of all her enemies, challenges, and monumental bouts of adversity (that Whedon sure knows how to put ‘em through the ringer,) she remains bloody but unbowed.

 

Beyond that, she’s a charming girl with a sly sense of humor that almost borders on endearingly dorky sometimes.  She’s an occasionally distracted but genuinely caring friend, and what’s more, she judges people by their merits.  When she first arrives in Sunnydale, the pretty, perky Buffy is courted by high school royalty like Cordelia, but she almost immediately aligns herself with nerds and losers like Willow and Xander.  Part of it is her natural inclination to defend the underdog, and part of it is her ability to see Willow and Xander’s untapped heroic potential.

 

And of course, Buffy is, importantly, not perfect.  Her strong will can make her stubborn, she can be overly reckless and impulsive, and once she’s formed an opinion of someone, she tends to see them in black and white rather than shades of gray.  If she didn’t make mistakes or get herself in trouble sometimes, it wouldn’t be half so satisfying to see her triumph.  It’s remarkable to see her grow over the course of the series, becoming a true leader while still maintaining her innate Buffyness.