Xander and Cordelia were just leaving the Bronze when they ran into Jack O'Toole, local bully who repeated three grades. He stank, bad.
"O'Toole, is there a reason you're smelling like you're rotting?" Xander asked. "I'm sure you're not a vampire, but you're definitely something that's not natural."
"How do you know, Harris?"
"Like I said, you stink."
"Xander." Cordelia said. "I thought Jack was dead. I heard he died in a drive by shooting in L.A."
"Oh, does that make you like a zombie or something? I've read about necromancy. That's gross, by the way. How and why do people come up with this crap? Like we need more dead bodies walking around. Aren't the vampires enough?"
"You know about the vampires, Harris?"
"Yes, so are you like a brain eating zombie or do you work for a zombie master or what?"
"My gramps is a voodoo necromancer. He raised me from the dead because he didn't want me to be dead. Hey listen, can I borrow your car? I figured out how to voodoo my buddies back and I want to raise them, too. I'm thinking we'd bake a cake, been awhile since we had some fun."
"I'm guessing bake a cake doesn't actually involve a cake."
"No, it means blowing something up."
"Since innocent people might get hurt, I can't let you do that, Jack. So no, you can't borrow my car."
Jack pulled out a very big knife and said. "I think Katie, here, might change your mind, especially if I cut Chase's pretty face."
"Yeah, you just made your last mistake, Jack." Xander said and grabbed the knife from him. "See, threatening Cordelia, is a really bad idea. I've been told I've got a protective streak in me. It tends to flare when innocent people get hurt. It tends to go supernova when Cordy or Willow get threatened or hurt. So now I'm going to have to do something about your zombie ass. And it was such a nice night. Not a single vampire in the Bronze. Just a nice relaxing night with my honey and you went and spoiled it. Bye Jack." And used the knife to cut zombie Jack's head off.
"First someone uses science to raise a dead guy and now someone uses Magic to raise a dead guy. Can't people just let the dead stay dead?" Xander asked, as he and Cordelia headed for his car.
"I know, especially since I was almost one of those dead, then raised from the dead, people. When I die, I want to be cremated, make sure no one ever tries to raise me from the dead." Cordelia said.
"Yeah, me too. Far less hassle."
The next couple of night brought a cult of demons, called the Jhe Sisterhood, who were apparently all female and ugly, who wanted to open the Hellmouth. They came close to succeeding, but the gang managed to stop them.
Then Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, a Watcher from the Watchers Council showed up. He wasn't welcomed with open arms.
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, gods that is a pretentious name, I'm Joyce Summers, Buffy Summers mother. We told the Watchers Council, they're not welcome here. So can you explain to me why your skinny ass is in our town?"
"Madam, it is the duty of Watchers Council to guide the Slayers. It has been this way for centuries."
"Yeah, your way gets Slayers killed. Buffy and Faith have survived alot longer then the average Slayer because they've got actual support. Like Mrs. S said, you and your Council aren't welcome here. So go back to England." Xander said.
"That's not up to you young man." The Watcher said pompously.
"It's not up to you either. Slayers aren't private property, they're human beings. Despite what you want to believe, you have no authority over them whatsoever. This is America, they're America citizens and you are a foreigner threatening them. All we have to do is call the FBI and report you. Bye bye arrogant asshole." Jenny told him.
"I suggest you do as they say, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. They really will get you to deported and this being America, they just might decide to sue the Watchers Council at the same time. Which would expose a whole lot of secrets." Giles told him.
"Mr. Giles! Surely you understand the importance of the Council and its guidence of the Slayer!"
"Once, I thought I did. That I was before I was made a Field Watcher to a Slayer. Now I question everything I was ever taught by the Watchers Council. I honestly think none of you have any concept of what a Slayer actually is. Because she really is a human being, not a living weapon. And their Calling may indeed come from the gods, but being a Watcher doesn't. So leave, none of them will obey you. You're useless here. Not to mention, it's painfully obvious, you have no clue, what living on a Hellmouth means. It means nightly dustings of dozens of vampires. It means weekly daytime raids on nests. It means in the last two years we've dealt more then a hundred different types of demons. It means bad Magic and unsuspecting people twisted by the Hellmouth's energy. It means people and demons trying to open the Hellmouth and stopping them. That's what it means. You brag about having dusted two vampires under controlled circumstances. In one day, Joyce here, has dusted more then that and not under controlled circumstances. And she doesn't even patrol. That's just dealing with vampires that have shown up at her gallery. I sincerely doubt you'll last a week here."
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce packed his bags and returned to England that day. The Watchers Council did not attempt to send anymore Watchers to Sunnydale.