Reviewed by Sanguine

Over the course of seven seasons, the Buffyverse has become increasingly gray. In the beginning there were vampires and there was a Slayer and she killed them and it was justified, we were told, for this was a war. There was one vampire, Angel, who had reformed, but that was because he had something that raised him above his demonic brethren: a soul. As Season 2 so vividly demonstrated, when Angel lost this soul he became an entirely different creature, the murderous, sadistic Angelus. Where Angel had loved, Angelus hated. Where Angel had fought evil, Angelus embraced it.

While glimmers of moral ambiguity surfaced in Season 2 with Spike and Drusilla, things were still pretty clear: Buffy, righteous leader, fighting the good fight (although using unorthodox methods) and the evil vampires and other demonic creatures providing clear-cut disposable enemies to vanquish. In the early years, these enemies frequently had metaphorical meanings connected to the struggles of adolescence. But over the course of seven years, as the characters became young adults and moved beyond the confines of high school, the metaphors became less clear and so did the morality. As we grow older, things become more complicated, and this was the case in the Buffyverse as well. Favourite characters descended into evil (Willow). Vampires without souls were shown to be capable of loving, if not wisely. In fact, the whole distinction between souled and unsouled vampires was called into question, provoking many heated discussions and arguments on message boards and other Buffy online forums. When Spike received his soul there was undoubtedly a change, but it wasn't the extreme change we saw between Angel and Angelus. He was still Spike, just with a fully operational moral compass. Likewise, Buffy too has changed. In the beginning Buffy was the Slayer we liked. She may have been heroic, but we could still see ourselves in her. Over the course of time, Buffy distanced herself from her humanity and her onscreen friends and many viewers of the program found it increasingly difficult to relate to her. She had seemingly unlimited powers, could conquer every foe, and had become rather brittle, cold, and, to some, unlikeable. The low point for Buffy's character came during Season 6, when she embarked on an ill-advised affair with Spike. For some, their heroine (and the show) was irretrievably sullied. These viewers still wanted the old Season 1-3 moral economy to be in place.

Why this lengthy recapitulation of past events? Because Season 7 provides the capstone to this morally ambiguous worldview. And if you disliked the developments of Season 4-6, you probably aren't enjoying Season 7. The gang is fighting evil itself, and we know they cannot win. For evil has always existed, in the hearts of children, in the poor, in the rich. The best the gang (or any of us) can do, is to choose wisely, to ignore our baser impulses. And the gang, like many of us, do not always succeed.

"Touched" by Rebecca Rand Kirshner opens with Buffy kicking a man out of his own house (of course, it's for his own good) and a chaotic atmosphere at Revello Drive, vividly portrayed through the use of a wildly swinging handheld camera. Spike returns from his Mission mission, with Andrew in tow, eager to share his findings with Buffy. But Buffy is gone. Spike furiously accuses Buffy's friends of being traitors, reminding them how many times Buffy has saved their skins. Is Spike right? The actions of the Scoobies, Giles, and Faith seemed rather ungrateful (to put it mildly). But, as callous and nasty as it may have been, were the Scoobs right to kick Buffy out of her own house?

Actually, Faith and company initially seem to be better off without Buffy, especially after Faith asserts her leadership. Faith rises to the challenge and receives praise from Giles. They execute a plan (capturing a Bringer and making him talk) and realise the First is stocking an arsenal for the upcoming battle. Faith does the only logical thing: she takes some of the Potentials with her to the arsenal. And disaster ensues. Was Faith right or wrong? Or did she simply not have enough information, thanks to Giles's premature throat slitting?

Was Giles right to slit the Bringer's throat? After all, the Bringer was rambling on about how he would enjoy seeing them all die. Hardly a morale booster. Nevertheless, Giles could have mystically decapitated Andrew. They might have gotten more information . . . Or is Giles contaminated by the First?

While Giles exercises his homicidal impulses and Faith rallies the troops, Spike finds the exiled Buffy in the deserted house, a broken woman. She doesn't want to fight anymore. She wants to rest. She admits she was wrong, cutting herself off from the group: "Being the Slayer made me different, but it's my fault I stayed that way. People are always trying to connect to me . . ." And she never lets them. Spike knows that firsthand. So it's only appropriate that Spike would be the first person she connects with. Their connection isn't sexual--they've done that before and it was never truly intimate for her. Their connection is emotional. Spike offers her his gift, his vision of who she is, and she accepts it, albeit reluctantly. She may not want to be the One, but she is. In a beautiful speech Spike reaffirms his love for Buffy and reminds the viewer why they should love Buffy too. Spike's love isn't selfish--not anymore. He doesn't want anything from Buffy in return. He just wants her to realise who she is. "I love what you are. What you do. How you try . . . I've seen the best and the worst of you. I understand with perfect clarity what you are . . . you're a hell of woman. You're the One, Buffy." She's the Chosen One and the One that Spike loves. And in this love, and in their trusting embrace as they rest together, she finds her strength. I must admit to being drawn in by these moments and being touched myself. The point isn't romance. The point is that Buffy, who has locked herself away for so long, allows herself a human moment.

The others are also enjoying human moments, although one may question how deep these connections truly are. Anya and Xander desperately couple on the kitchen floor. Faith and Wood get it on in Buffy's bed (please wash those sheets!). And Willow and Kennedy also enjoy pleasures of the flesh (put away the tongue stud, Kennedy!). And these couplings, although desperate, have their meaning. As the First comments, "I envy them. It's the strangest thing. I know why they grab on each other. To feel."

While Buffy's former compatriots are desperately trying to feel, Buffy has settled into sleep. She has already been touched and has found peace. This restful night leads Buffy to the conclusion I reached in my review last week. Violence will not work against the First and its minions. An army cannot overpower evil. It will take a woman, with faith in herself and in her abilities. So, Buffy, who was right about Caleb and the vineyard but was disastrously wrong in her execution, decides to try again. The Slayer stands alone, but she has rediscovered her strength: the ability to think outside the box. She doesn't strike Caleb. She evades him. And she wins her prize: a weapon she was born to wield.

So, as the First Evil told us (unreliable narrator that it is): we're going beyond right and wrong. And indeed we are. Everyone has been sullied. No one is completely righteous. All are flawed. But one thing is clear: believing in yourself will give you power.