A comprehensive ranking of every season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Not all slays are made equal.

I recently watched all 144 episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in just over two and a half months—122 of those episodes I watched in exactly 51 days (the final 22-episode season was a much slower, more arduous watch)—and I have some thoughts. The show was both much better than I thought it would be and just as frustrating as I anticipated; after all it is very much a 90s show and the brainchild of one Joss Whedon (double homicide, as the kids say). Whilst there are very few things I could say about this show that haven’t been said already, I really wanted to write about it because I found it very engaging in a way that I haven’t really been able to shake since finishing it; however, whenever I sat down to write something, I found myself getting sucked into my own personal frustrations with the show and everything I wrote came across as a rant that nobody would want to read because it’s not productive and also just, plain bad. So instead of a well thought out piece on how the show is a hero’s journey about a girl who’s made into a weapon but fights to hold on to her humanity and how that is actually her biggest triumph—a piece which sits unfinished on my computer—you get this; a comprehensive ranking of every season of the show, which admittedly isn’t as interesting but still a worthwhile read (I hope). Please proceed with caution if you like any of the men on this show.

SEASON SEVEN

In last place—by an embarrassing mile or two—is the final season; which was a disappointing trainwreck except for that series finale which actually had no business being that good. There were a lot of problems with season seven which all seemed to stem from the same big problem; it seems as though the writers didn’t actually know what to do with a lot of the characters. Xander—who had been pretty much decorative since season four except for that one time he kinda saved the world with the power of friendship—was such a non-factor during this season; not even losing one eye during a suicide mission inspired much fanfare. Willow is another important  character that was reduced to utter uselessness for much of the season; which felt particularly mind boggling because she had such a big season in season six, so for her to be pretty much a non-factor in season seven felt like a big let down. As someone who hates Xander (I don’t like when men are annoying AND useless, I think they should just pick one struggle) and doesn’t care for Willow on most days (I’m so sorry lesbians), you would think I’d be happy that they were sidelined for much of this season, but I wasn’t; in fact, I found myself unexpectedly peeved by the whole thing. I think this season sacrificed a lot of characters by pulling a lot of focus from them and directing that focus to Spike’s half-assed redemption arc, to the detriment of the whole season. 

I think his mere presence in this season single-handedly ruined the whole thing. You see, there are a number of things one simply has to contend with when watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer; and one of those things is that every male character—besides Giles and Oz, of course—is either insufferable or useless; or worse, both. In fact, I believe that the only correct way to watch this show is to either hate every male character or be completely indifferent to them—I personally leaned towards hate most times because I’m very easily aggravated; but even so, it was fairly easy to enjoy the show despite the urge to gag everytime Xander or Spike or even Angel came on screen. The unfortunate thing about season seven is that too much of the season is spent on trying to give Spike a redemption arc that effectively sucks the life out of the show and results in some of the worst writing for Buffy’s character in the entirety of the show’s run—it was so bad that by the time I got to the infamous scene in Empty Places when Dawn and the Scoobies kick Buffy out of her own house, I was kind of on their side. Season seven was so bogged down by the Spuffy saga that even the big First Evil trying to end the Slayer line thing felt like a mere afterthought. 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that quite a bit of groundwork needed to be laid for Spike’s eventual sacrifice in the final battle—spoiler alert: his admittedly impeccable dye job catches on fire and he burns into crispy ashes and kinda saves the world, but it’s fine because he comes back to life or whatever, and ruins Angel’s final season too (or so I hear). I can even understand that in giving Spike a redemption arc, the show essentially had to retcon their own vampire lore because a little lazy writing never hurt anyone (I mean, I personally took great offense to it but those are just my own personal hang ups)—I just wish all of that hadn’t taken up so much of the season. Even the Potentials storyline, which should have been the priority for this season, felt like an afterthought and was ultimately bungled because for some reason the Spuffy saga was just far more important. 

All that just for this stupid ship to not even be endgame; at least when Delena ruined The Vampire Diaries, they ended up together.

SEASON FOUR

This is a weird one because I think it might be one of the seasons I rewatch the most in the future—it’s probably the last time the show ever allowed itself to be fun, which is saying something considering there’s an actual musical episode in season six that probably ranks as the show’s most fun episode. Season four has the unfortunate task of being the stopover, so to speak, between two distinct eras of the show—the charming and fun innocence of the first three seasons versus suffocating bleakness of the last three seasons. It seems particularly fitting then that this season is set during the Scoobies’ freshman year of college because just as we were watching the gang (and Giles) recalibrate their entire existence as they entered this new phase in their lives, it also felt like the show itself was doing the same. 

This was very much the season of “doing whatever and seeing what works”—and a lot of the time almost none of it worked. As a result, this is a season that brought us some of the highest highs of the entire series (think Hush and This Year’s Girl) and many of the lowest lows of the series (think Beer Bad and Superstar). On the whole, it actually pains me a bit to rank this season so low because I think it really does a great job of writing a lot of the characters as they go through the growing pains of moving from adolescence into adulthood; however, whilst this is a wonderful season in that respect, it really falls short in terms of everything else. Between boasting the show’s most unimaginative villain—which is a crazy thing to even contemplate considering Adam was literally part monster, part science project— and some of the show’s worst episodes; the overall quality of this season leaves a lot to be desired. Some of the episodes that this season produced are so bad, I can’t even call them camp. It’s a shame really. 

SEASON ONE

I love this season. This is Buffy the Vampire Slayer at its most dated and ridiculous and I loved every second of it. If you look up the definition of the word ‘camp’ in the dictionary, it just says “see season one of Buffy the Vampire Slayer”. 

This season is not only fun but it also sets up a lot of the things that would go on to be synonymous with the show—my favourite of all is the way in which this season defined the kind of classic Buffy the Vampire Slayer villain. I believe that the best Buffy ‘big bads’ are the ones that really lean into the ridiculousness that is woven into the fabric of the show’s identity; and there’s perhaps very few, if any, villains in the Buffy canon that better embodied this than season one’s The Master. 

The Master was your classic horror villain; down to the horrifying physical appearance and the nonsensical evil monologues inside the cave in which, of course, he lived. The man had disciples who would go above ground and do his evil bidding while he stayed below ground giggling maniacally (literally), filled with way too much glee at the prospect of killing The Slayer and opening up the Hellmouth so that he can one day be free to terrorise society once more. The Master was uncomplicated evil at its best; just a vampire driven by nothing more complicated than a simple enjoyment of being a menace—a perfect first season villain that played up the ridiculousness of this show and made this season a lot more fun.

SEASON THREE

When I announced to my legion of fans on Twitter.com—or whatever it’s called these days, I cannot keep up with a certain billionaire’s midlife crisis anymore—that I had started watching Buffy, a lot of people couldn’t wait for me to get to season three so that I could experience the show’s best ever season; so imagine my surprise when I finally get to season three and it is nothing of the sort. A lot of my beef with this season has nothing to do with the season itself, and more to do with the fact that I was gaslighted by a number of gay people on my phone into thinking that it was particularly special—like, I get it guys, Eliza Dushku is the most beautiful woman that’s ever lived and menace to society, Faith Lehane, absolutely rules; but if you switch off the lesbianism for a second, I think it’s clear that this season was just fine. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I think on the whole this was a pretty consistently good, occasionally exceptional, season of television; especially those last 9 episodes (yes, even Earshot). That’s why it’s particularly surprising to learn that Faith was only supposed to be in 3 episodes of this season because for me personally, she’s the reason why the season finally got going in those last couple of episodes—the season needed her to go batshit crazy out of nowhere and rope Buffy into an intense psychosexual homoerotic beef, to finally get going. 

To be fair, Faith going on a murderous rampage because she has abandonment issues and suffers from a severe case of lesbianism, and the mayor trying to turn into a giant snake and eating the entire population of Sunnydale aren’t the only highlights of this season—this season also marked the end of the Bangel (Buffy and Angel) saga which actually made me cheer. In a perfect world, the Bangel saga should have ended when Buffy put a sword through his chest in the season two season finale; however, for some reason Joss Whedon and friends figured having Angel come back from a hell dimension just to be a wet blanket for the entirety of the third season was a fair price to pay for a Buffy spin-off (which sucked by the way). 

To think that Bangel vs Spuffy kind of birthed modern ship wars is a terrifying thought; like girls, this is a mid-off of epic proportions. And I know that the ranking of these seasons will probably make it seem like I’ve chosen a side in this Spuffy or Bangel debate, but I assure you, I have not because I simply have no interest in heterosexual business. What I will say though is that the Bangel saga never really single-handedly bogged down an entire season. Simply put: Do I think the conclusion to the Bangel saga was well written? Yes. Did I particularly enjoy sitting through it for the entirety of the third season? No, but at least it didn’t make me want to put my head through a shredder which is more than I can say for the season seven Spuffy saga.

(Okay, I’m not allowed to type the words ‘Bangel’ and ‘Spuffy’ for the remainder of this).

SEASON SIX

This is probably the one season of Buffy I’ll never rewatch—okay, I’m never going to rewatch season seven either but that’s for an entirely different reason. This season is one of the most brutal portrayals of post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and grief I’ve ever watched. There’s a suffocating bleakness about this season that never seems to let up; just when you think these characters can finally come up for air, another tragedy befalls them, pulling them back under. It makes sense then, that this season is perhaps the most human season of the show. There is no ancient God trying to open the door between universes this time around, no ancient vampire trying to open the gates of hell; there’s just the horrible things that human beings do to each other on a daily basis. The villains this season are human—three incels dubbed The Trio, a name as unremarkable as their motivations—and the challenges our favourite characters face are also entirely and painfully human; how things like hubris, greed and grief turn us into the worst versions of ourselves, how the act of waking up everyday and living can often be a painful arduous task with no reprieve. 

This season is a hard watch throughout but perhaps my favourite thing about it—and really, what makes it such a rewarding watch—is that it also has, arguably, the most hopeful ending of any Buffy season. Very few things throughout this show’s run have affected me as much as watching Xander talk Willow off the ledge, proving that sometimes love does conquer all the grief and anger; or watching Buffy and Dawn emerge from a hole in the ground and stare into the beautiful California sun with more hope than they’ve had in a long time simply because of the love they have for each other. Despite its bleak outlook on humanity, this season also has a lot of faith in humanity’s endless capacity for empathy and love; and I think that’s pretty beautiful.

SEASON FIVE

For any other show, this season would be its best. It’s pretty much a perfect season of television that expands the mythology and lore of the show and elevates it incredible highs; it also gives us the best post-season one character addition of the show with the introduction of Buffy’s kid sister, Dawn who simply just materialised out of nowhere through magic (literally). However, the biggest compliment I can pay this season is that it’s perhaps the best season in terms of the writing for our heroine. 

To me, Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a show about a girl who was forged into a weapon—a weapon of salvation, yes; but a weapon nonetheless—and how she has to fight to hold on to her humanity. I think the show is at its best when it explores this tension between weapon and girl,and I think this season does that really well. I think the introduction of Dawn—who is for all intents and purposes, is the physical manifestation of Buffy’s humanity having been forged into a human from mystical energy and Buffy’s own blood—provides a really interesting take on this ever present tension.  Season five finds Buffy at a sort of crossroads; she’s preoccupied with the idea of being The Slayer and what that means for her humanity. She’s worried that to be The Slayer, she has to let go of the softest parts of herself, the parts that want to give and receive love, the parts that yearn for friendships and relationships, the parts that are just a girl. 

At this moment in time, Buffy is prepared to accept the fact that when it comes down to it, being The Slayer will always come before being just a girl; a girl with loved ones and a full life beyond saving the world. Dawn’s very existence however, complicates this; ultimately, when faced with being The Slayer and being Dawn’s big sister, Buffy’s love for Dawn wins out and her sacrifice at the end of the season has very little to do with saving the world and the greater good, and everything to do with embracing her humanity, her capacity for love. In the end, Buffy Summers is just a girl. 

SEASON TWO

Buffy’s second season easily goes into the sophomore season hall of fame, joining the likes of Grey’s Anatomy and The Wire (yes, you heard that right, The Wire season two was a really great season of television, the show’s best really). 

Much like season five, this season of Buffy is also remarkable because it really leans into the tension between weapon and girl, only this particular season is perhaps a far more tragic take on that tension even though season five ends with Buffy literally leaping to her death. Season two is far more tragic because at this point in time Buffy is still far more girl than she is The Slayer; at this point there’s still a beautiful air of innocence about her, she’s still quick to show the softest parts of herself to the world and to have that openness be thrown back in her face during a moment of real vulnerability—trigger warning for Bangel enjoyers and haters alike, I’m talking about the aptly titled Innocence—feels like the most tragic moment of the entire show, because at that moment we’re watching Buffy lose a part of herself that she’ll spend the rest of the show trying to get back. After this moment, it feels like we’re watching our heroine become more and more disillusioned in real time; so much so that that moment when Buffy finally puts a sword through Angel’s heart at the end of this season feels less like a victory and more like heartbreaking acceptance that Buffy can never be just a girl.