Dead Again
I've been mourning Buffy for a while now. Long before this week's finale, the Buffy I loved left the air to be replaced with a shadow of a Slayer drama on a shadow of a network.

Since Buffy's move to UPN, the usual snappy dialogue has become an expositioning nightmare. Subtle shades of characterization have been replaced with over-the-top stereotypes and sadistic sexual sub-plots. And the worst offense of all, the way the characters could make me laugh, even in the face of the most hopeless of situations, has been banished, leaving me tired and depressed at the end of most episodes, making me wonder why I return each week, my only hope being that Andrew will make another Hot Pocket speech.

I think this is because in the Before Times, the show had heart. Sure, there were kick-ass fight scenes and magic spells and prophecies of doom, but more important was that I cared about each of the characters because they were three-dimensional. Cordelia was shallow and materialistic, but always came through for the friends she claimed she couldn't stand. Spike was the Big Bad, but he sacrificed everything, including his chance to take down Buffy, just to save Drusilla.

Best of all though, in a show that was about the trials and tribulations of growing up, fitting in, and the daily choices between good and evil, we had Jonathan. I glow just thinking of him.

The Most Important Character Not in the Title Credits
On a scale from Innocent to Pure Evil, Jonathan was somewhere around Testing My Boundaries, But Not Really Dangerous. He could represent the best of high school, presenting Buffy with the Class Protector award in The Prom. His speech was hesitant, but sincere, showering her with the approval and appreciation she had been craving from the self-obsessed students she served.

"We're not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you. But that doesn't mean we haven't noticed you... Whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it... We're proud to say that the class of '99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history. And we know that at least part of that is because of you."

He also showed us the ugliest scenes of adolescence, feeling lonely, depressed and suicidal in Earshot. Buffy tries to tell him that everyone feels isolated sometimes, but he doesn't buy it right away. "Stop saying my name like we're friends. We're not friends. You all think I'm an idiot. A short idiot." And in season six, he gives in to Warren's bullying, manipulative ways to become part of the evil nemisisesis and promises of power and nifty criminal gadgets.

Strong Man
In portraying Jonathan, Danny Strong did a great thing for us. He didn't act, or at least he didn't overact. He didn't have to be a soulless Big Bad. He wasn't the tough jock, or the nerdy loser, or the full-of-school-spirit preppy. He was just Jonathan, the guy we all went to school with. And the heart of his character wasn't in his dialogue or crazy antics, but in the simple way he was a high school nobody who would give anything to feel accepted.

In Superstar, one of my all time favorite episodes, Jonathan found a way to make that dream come true, and even his fantasy life was endearing.

Whoa. He Knows Kung Fu.
Jonathan didn't just want fame and fortune; he dreamed of respect and honor, of people needing his help, of showing them his strength and compassion, and of being the king geek on the side. As TelevisionWithoutPity reminds us, Superstar Jonathan "starred in The Matrix, crushed the bones of the Master, blew up a big snake made out of Mayor, coached the US women's soccer team to a stunning World Cup victory... and Buffy is his sidekick." Only Jonathan would want to be Keanu Reeves and Buffy Summers rolled into one, with Mia Hamm as his protégé.

And so Jonathan's face was on swimsuit calendars, billboards, and magazines. He was an expert in everything, defended Buffy and Riley from things they were afraid of, won Xander's adoration, shot a wicked cool crossbow, and all the ladies (even Tara and Willow) thought he was "Pretty darn lickable." It was the dream of every high school outcast. When it finally came to an end and Buffy accused him of turning everyone into puppets, he said that wasn't his plan at all. He only wanted friends. It's the most honest thing anyone could want in high school.

In the end he went to the dark side, sort of. It was more like the shady side. How evil could he really be when his whole plan was, "Trained gorillas. Workable prototype jetpacks, and chicks, chicks, chicks. I know that's the action I signed on for." He followed Warren's lead, but was never as malicious, and never as easily led as Andrew.

Jonathan was the conscience of the evil trio, the one most likely to sabotage a plan or give in to his desire to be part of the Scoobies and warn Buffy in the nick of time. "She saved my life a bunch of times. And she's hot." When he did try to take charge, Andrew put him in his place, saying, "Warren's the boss. He's Picard. You're Deanna Troi. Get used to the feeling, Betazoid." I love that Trekkie humor.

Andrew has done a wonderful job at providing much-needed comic relief this season. In many dreary episodes he's been the only part I've truly enjoyed. Discussing Bloomin Onions with Spike, narrating his own version of their adventures Masterpiece Theater-style, and illustrating Anya's description of the supreme evil with sad faces on a white board, I feel Andrew is the writers' attempt to reclaim the lightheartedness and comedic timing that classic Buffy enjoyed. But he'll never have Jonathan's heart, or short jokes.

Andrew: See, the jet pack's cool. How come Warren gets to play with all the cool stuff?
Jonathan: Because I'm allergic to methane and you're still afraid of hot things?
Andrew: I know.
Jonathan: Besides, the tank kept making both of us tip over, remember?

Goodbye little man.