Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdom. Walter Benjamin
It's four years since the Slayer moved to this stinking Sunnyhell; three since he’d followed to kill her.
Now here he is; the Slayer of Slayers trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey, shot through with arrows by an irate ‘Native American', and not a bloody thing he can do about it.
Worse than that, he's at the mercy of the entirely pathetic Scoobie Gang: impotent, thanks to the soldier boys' little gadget.
It's a bad dream. But the worst is over right?
His oldest nightmare rises up before him.
"A bear! You made a bear! Undo it! Undo it!"