Making some. [ frustration cracks in her voice. whips, even. froths. ] By the time we make some, they'll have moved on to terrorize some other poor little coastal village. We gotta make dust while the sun shines.

[ buffy has conveniently skipped the part where she's learned about a group of ne'er-do-well vampires forced to feed a little too obviously with the late-winter wind forcing them to feel just about as desperate as anyone else in the drabwurld. ]