The story arc for season six is structured around the psychogenic functions, or dysfunctions, of the core characters—their fears govern their responses to the events unfolding around them. Ultimately, they have lost their ability to sufficiently cope with life. From the start, relationships are strained. Willow conceals much of the circumstances of the resurrection spell from Tara, Xander, and Anya; the tests she must endure are unclear to them: she viciously slaughters a fawn and there is also the consequences of ‘AfterLife’, yet she nearly demands praise for her actions. Subsequently, Giles admonishes her and this creates a rift between them. Xander’s refusal to reveal his engagement to the gang speaks volumes as he is obviously harboring doubts to committing to this lifetime union. Tara becomes concerned for Willow and her treatment of the black arts. After Buffy’s renascence, she is rightfully stultified by the harsh and violent world and as a result, distances herself from the gang. The only relationship that retains true substance—in the first few episodes—is that of Spike and Buffy’s. It is not strained; they do not cloak themselves in secrecy. She reveals hidden truths to him although she cannot to anyone else. Strangely, it is this relationship that isn’t consumed with meandering motives, at least until that pivotal moment in ‘Once More With Feeling.’

In retrospect, it is apparent as early as the premiere that Willow is parading dangerously close to the edge of her human sanity. She is blinded by her increasing power, by her changed status from geek to Wiccan enchantress. The first third of the season she exhibits an unwavering confidence in her abilities to execute spells, often resulting in the manipulation of others in an attempt to provide her with a world she can control and predict.

Her power has been developing for sometime and as we have learned, it wasn’t the magic she was addicted to, but the power involved. For a number of seasons we have seen Willow in the backseat, waiting and wanting to be on the front lines. I don’t think I’m being obtuse when I say that Willow has always had some jealousy issues with Buffy. As ‘Restless’ implies, Willow has been hiding. From what? Herself, of course. Not from her geek self, but from her dark Wiccan half. Although I don’t think she was quite cognizant of the magnitude of the neoplastic power she possessed, she was aware that there was an untapped part of her neuroses that was, in fact, dangerous.

Willow is widely regarded to be the season’s ‘Big Bad’. I disagree. I find that the ‘Big Bad’ was nebulous and uncertain. Moreover, I find the cloudiness quite appropriate. S6 was not about gods or monsters–it was about inactions and the subsequent consequences of those inactions. I’ve seen innumerable complaints about S6, but I, however, welcomed the dark tone the series took. It was absolutely necessary to pull the characters apart. For five years Buffy, Willow, and Xander stood, more or less, side by side; they fought together, cried together, and most importantly, stayed together. A departure from their unity is precisely what needed to happen. Suddenly every character was alone and fending for themselves–Giles, the quintessential voice of reason, leaves; Dawn is often ignored; Tara deserts Willow (and I can also argue that Willow deserts herself); Xander and Anya break away from each other long before their wedding day; Buffy becomes a supreme isolationist; and Spike, well, has been alone for quite sometime, only in S6 he grapples with his newfound epiphany. Life is somehow more disrupted, more dangerous than it has ever been before–and this is without the menace of a super-powerful ‘Big Bad’. I feel that this depravity was absolutely necessary to the narrative for it strangely gives the show back its life force.

I understand the many views fans have of S6 and, after all, we are all entitled to our opinions. However, I do not know how the series could have worked appropriately if there wasn’t this separation between the Scoobies. As far back (and possibly further) as ‘Restless’ we are introduced to the fears that our core characters inherently possess. Interestingly enough, ‘Restless’ was a season finale, which is why I believe it holds great significance in the whole of the series. S6 seems to be reminiscent of all these deep and lurking subconscious psychoses and contemplations–Willow’s retreat to the dark side, Xander’s abandonment of Anya, Giles’ departure, Buffy’s anemic response to being the Slayer–these issues were (mostly) overlooked in the fifth season. This seems to be quite a deliberate process on Joss’ part. In the scope of a series that as been unfolding for six years, it seems only prudent to invoke a disunity between the Scoobies. ‘Restless’ was a product of their unity–a consequence for a collaboration (the spell in ‘Primeval’) that was somehow wrong. Now in the sixth season those fears are addressed with searing backlashes for all–hence, the depravity, the loneliness, the lies.

But I digress. The question at hand remains: Who was the real ‘Big Bad’? I say that it is not the Scoobies, but their fears. You could argue with me that their fears are apart of them and therefore the Scoobies, or more precisely Willow, are the ‘Big Bad’, but I’ll retort right back. The profundity of their fears is uncontrollable; they cannot adequately recognize and therefore, confront or suppress them. This day has been coming for two years as ‘Restless’ so clearly proves. The Troika was what is called a Hitchcockian MacGuffin–a threat (or object) that is at once significant, but in the end, is merely a backdrop for a larger threat looming in the horizon. While the murder of Tara certainly ignites the fervor of Willow, it is not the only driving force. The disunity among the Scoobies is responsible for the climax and denouement. If this dissociation had not occurred I argue that Willow would not have fallen on to these drastic measures. She would deal, like the Scoobies all always do–together.

This leads me to the Troika. Why the Troika? Why is this inept triumvirate of nerds used as villains throughout the season? Simply because they are nerds and moreover, a reflection of what Willow regards herself to be. They are a manifestation of her deepest fear and greatest desire—her fear, of course, being a bookish geek, her desire being power and validation. Furthermore, the Troika also represents the three sides of Willow, each member mirroring distinct qualities within herself. Warren is the undisputed evil member of the Trio, his obsession with the Slayer leading to the inadvertent murder of Tara—because of Warren we are introduced to the evil within Willow, who soon reverts to her dark power; Andrew, on the other hand, signifies the profound insecurities that she harbors about her inadequacies of every facet of her life, particularly those involving Tara; Jonathan—who we have witnessed over the course of several seasons—is in a constant struggle for acceptance. (This struggle is most explicit in ‘Earshot’ and ‘Superstar’.) Jonathan is perhaps the most reflective of Willow; he represents not only Willow’s struggle for approval, but her inherent philanthropy as well. Of the three members of the Troika, Jonathan is undeniably the most apprehensive to oblige to the plans and subsequently becomes repentant of those plans. Like Willow, he desires only recognition but finds it in few places.

So what about Spike and Buffy? For the bulk of the season these two were interlinked. There is little development of their characters outside the relationship they shared. I find this particularly compelling because of the circumstances surrounding Buffy’s new life. She is without desire, without emotion and in turn, she seeks solace in the arms of the dead. Buffy’s plight is marked by her insatiable mentality that life may not be worth living. Among her many problems—financial and otherwise—is Spike. Although she is the one to initiate a sexual relationship, Buffy maintains that it is empty and convenient. The last third of season five witnesses Spike in transition, coming to terms with his behavioral modification chip as well as his self-professed love for a woman who claims she could never love him back. This is unusually interesting because, as spectators, we feel empathy for the character although Spike has never necessarily sought redemption or absolution, never has he explicitly contemplated his past injustices, his copious kills; instead he desires a sort of fractured validation from Buffy.

On several occasions he remarks how he has changed, how he is not the monster she so adamantly insists he is whereas previously he complained that he just wanted to be evil, perhaps because his existence was simpler that way.

The duration of the season witnesses the dissociative Buffy searching for an unknown catharsis, for a glimmer of hope that will offer reclamation of her life. She doesn’t come close to this until her last scene of the finale for it is then she realizes what she could have lost. Spike, on the other hand, spends the season attempting to convince his lover that they aren’t so different after all. It isn’t until he hurts Buffy (‘Seeing Red’) that he recognizes he was wrong and then his priorities rapidly change. The reinstatement of his soul, meanwhile, becomes his own catharsis and a probable catalyst for his impending redemption.

Succinctly, the nature to destroy ourselves is a part of human nature. Ultimately, this destruction is regrettably inevitable and there is little we can do to stop it. ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ is rather evocative because it does not shy away from the dark side of the human condition. We’ve seen it with Faith; we’ve seen it with Buffy; and now we’ve seen it with Willow, as well.