So Whedon set us up for an ending that wouldn't, of course, change the bumpy shape of the season that preceded it, but would at least make sense of it. And would, most significantly, leave these characters in a place we could live with.
Buffy has always been the center of the show. And yet she's also been something of a blank, at times a blazingly bright one whose sole purpose seemed to be to reflect light off the other characters, who often had more dimension. Buffy has always been, on the surface at least, the kick-ass girl heroine who could take care of everything -- in fact, she insisted on doing so. But Buffy was always moving, both literally and metaphorically, and sometimes so fast you could barely get a glimpse of her. Where, exactly, was she headed? She always seemed on her way to becoming. But becoming what? Angel, her first love and perhaps her truest one, betrayed her (as the result of an old gypsy curse) just as she thought she was getting the hang of the whole having-sex and being-a-woman thing.
She had a sturdy, comfortable rapport with Riley, the straight-and-true college boyfriend, but his dullness threatened to dull her. And Spike, who fell deeply in love with her in spite of himself, brought out her cruelest side. As a couple, they were more doomed than Buffy and Angel had been, and yet they were better suited. For Buffy, Angel was the first love who stays with you forever, but with whom you could never live -- that kind of intensity just doesn't jibe with the everyday eloquence of getting the laundry done or putting your toothbrushes side-by-side in the same cup.
But Spike and Buffy were something else again -- less iconic, definitely, but also less matchy-matchy perfect. You couldn't see them snuggling in a cottage built for two, but you could see them egging each other on, year after year (one growing gray and the other progressively blonder), with their banter and casual insults, their love an uneasy but always-crackling energy. Of course, not even that imperfect kind of love is meant to be: Buffy does love Spike, but perhaps not as clearly and wholeheartedly as he has come to love her. And so his "death" (as of now, we can assume it was a death) becomes a sacrifice he makes for her. Formerly one of the cruelest vampires to walk the earth, he at last gets the chance to be the hero, just like his rival, Angel.
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So as the world of "Buffy" as we know it ends, Buffy is alone. The temptation to define herself in terms of her boyfriends is gone, because all her boyfriends are gone. We can all connect with Buffy's yearning to be with someone, but we can all connect just as fully with her clumsiness at not being able to get the hang of it. She will figure it out, but we won't be around to see it. In her final scene with Angel -- who has stepped in unexpectedly to give her some crucial information, and a talisman -- she uses a typically goofy Buffy metaphor, the sort of thing we haven't heard from her in a long time: "I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking." She's merely expressing what we've known all along, but to hear her say it herself is blessed relief.
It's fitting that the last episode of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was mostly, for once, almost wholly about Buffy, with Giles, Willow and Xander falling into place behind her. (But not before Xander has given us two perfect moments of absolute, painful perfection: In the first, he calls out for Anya, but he's unable to see her body in the rubble, as we do; and later, when Andrew explains what happened to her, he betrays his anguished love for her by remarking stoically, "That's my girl -- always doing the stupid thing.") It's fitting that the Scoobies escape from the destroyed Sunnydale on a school bus -- they're adults, once and for all, and yet some of their youthfulness and old camaraderie have been restored to them forever.
"From beneath you, it will devour." But it, that unspeakable evil, didn't devour them or us -- it never got a chance to. We've been left intact, the better to appreciate the cavernous pit that used to be a town without pity called Sunnydale. The four citizens who meant the most to us -- Buffy, Willow, Giles and Xander -- are alive, still standing, a good thing because to lose any of them would have been more than we could bear. Most of us, sensible grownups that we are, would agree it was time for "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" to end, which isn't necessarily the same thing as wanting it to end. And so Buffy, Xander, Giles and Willow go off, who knows where, in their school bus.
And leave us behind to face the hole.