The Buffy Episode That Secretly Embraced Trashy Romance Novels

By Chris Snellgrove
| Published 1 hour ago

Like all good Millennial nerds, I rewatch Buffy the Vampire Slayer often enough that every single silly catchphrase and witty bon mot lives rent-free in my head. It’s more than just nostalgia that fuels my late-night binge sessions, though. Buffy is just one of those shows that is worth constantly returning to because there is always something new to discover. For example, when I rewatched the solid Season 3 episode “Beauty and the Beasts,” I realized that it has a core message that is effectively contradicted by the rest of the show.

This episode features a character who, Dr. Jekyll-style, takes a potion to become the kind of man his girlfriend wants him to be. Sadly, he turns into an abusive boyfriend and, inevitably, into an actual monster that is eventually put down by Angel. “Beauty and the Beasts” puts a supernatural spin on a tale about the dangers of domestic abuse. However, the messaging is somewhat contradicted by Buffy herself always falling for murderous bad boys. That message is even further contradicted by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer fandom, many of whom grew up to be avid fans of smutty novels romanticizing the kinds of toxic men they’d hate in real life.

Of Monsters And Men

“Beauty and the Beasts” isn’t a very subtle Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode. It mostly uses The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as inspiration to tell a story about domestic abuse. Along the way, it fairly explicitly tackles the role that toxic masculinity plays in such abuse. Our villain, Pete, is someone who begins making and taking weird potions to, as he tells girlfriend Debbie, “be the man you wanted.” He prioritizes becoming a stronger man rather than a stronger boyfriend, becoming a violent, controlling jerk who ultimately murders the woman he supposedly loves.  

In “Beauty and the Beasts,” Pete is contrasted by other men who present a more healthy masculinity, including Oz, who, when not in werewolf form, is the gentlest of the Scoobies. Giles is, of course, the natty embodiment of everything prim and proper. Xander, meanwhile, is our adorably schmucky beta who’s always there with a quick quip or word of encouragement. Even temporary Buffy boyfriend Scott is (before he is later retconned as a jerk) presented as a very healthy masculine alternative to Pete’s rageholic ways.

Bad Boys Do It Better

As a self-contained episode, “Beauty and the Beasts” works well, contrasting toxic masculinity with positive masculinity and showing why the latter is always better. When you look at the entire show, however, Buffy seems to be the one character who never understands this important lesson. After all, the first great love of her life is Angel, the vampire with a soul who wants to atone for past misdeeds. Their doomed romance may seem cute, but make no mistake. Buffy falls in love with a mass murderer hundreds of years older than herself, one who turns into one of the most dangerous people on the planet when his soul is removed.

If Buffy’s relationship with Angel was bad, her relationship with Spike was even worse. While he was mentally neutered by a government chip, he was still very much a soulless demon when Buffy began having sex with him. The fact that Spike had killed two Slayers and countless other people didn’t deter Buffy. In fact, they went on to have sex so intense it literally tore a house down. Later, the show emphasized Spike’s demonic nature by having him try to assault Buffy. Despite this, she later forgives him and even confesses her love to him before he died (don’t worry, he got better). 

Buffy’s Outsize Influence On Modern Smut

Buffy, as a show, constantly transmits the message that toxic masculinity is bad and that it should be rejected in all of its forms. But Buffy as a character sends a very different message: that sex with bad boys is really, really hot, and relationships with such men are infinitely more fulfilling than relationships with safer suitors like Riley. Granted, Riley had the personality of wet cardboard, but he still symbolized the kind of average Joe that our Slayer consistently rejects in favor of someone more dangerous.

While Buffy the Vampire Slayer obviously didn’t invent the “bad boys are hot” trope, it arguably popularized it for multiple generations of fans. Those fans would grow up to become the core demographic for romantic novels, especially those which are affectionately labeled “smut.” While there are many different flavors of smutty novels, some of the most popular ones feature Buffy’s favorite kind of guy: dark, brooding, and oh so dangerous. Fifty Shades of Grey (a foundational text to modern smut), for example, features a rich man who is heavily into BDSM. In this way, he’s the archetypal bad boy protagonist; someone with desires so dangerous that they make him that much more attractive.

Devil of Dublin, meanwhile, features a mafioso whose willingness to hurt and kill on behalf of the female main character is presented as an unabashed plus. Lights Out is a novel where the male main character wins over his lady love by killing the man who assaults her and then covering up his death. While that novel’s motto is “the couple who slays together, stays together,” Butcher & Blackbird takes that idea to the next level by featuring male and female serial killers who bond over their desire to (Dexter style) kill bad people.

The Naked Truth

Now, I’m not here to kinkshame these books or anyone who enjoys their bondage-filled exploits. Everyone’s freak flag should be flown as loudly and proudly as they want to fly it. But it is notable that the romantic book genre is filled with the kinds of men that the vast majority of women would reject in real life. Nobody really wants to date a violent, murderous thug. But it’s fun to fantasize about, especially in between watching the kind of masked man thirst traps the Lights Out male main character specializes in. 

Those fantasies might not be nearly so much fun to these readers, however, if they hadn’t grown up watching Buffy have amazing sex with a pair of sexy, brooding mass murderers. Buffy the Vampire Slayer effectively contradicts the message of “Beauty and the Beasts” by constantly showcasing how fun it is to fool around with dangerous men who are bad for her. In this way, Buffy accidentally proves that episode’s villain right. Nobody wants someone who will hurt or kill them, of course, but countless people (in the show and in the world) really do want bad boys with a monster hidden inside them. 

If men could take a potion to become that archetypal bad boy that women want, most would do so in a heartbeat. In that way, “Beauty and the Beasts” takes on a kind of retrospective importance, underscoring the divide (often a large one) between our public desires and our private fantasies. It’s a tale that underscores the hubris of Dr. Jekyll while also making his downfall that much more sympathetic.