Existential Scoobies presents
Angel: the Series Season 6
(May 11, 2005)
Written by Masquerade
PREVIOUSLY, ON "ANGEL" -
- Scenes of UTTER DEVASTATION around Los Angeles.
- DEMONS RIOT against the human military in a demon internment camp.
- SLAYERS AND CIVILIANS FALL in the battle against vampires, werewolves, and demons outside the Loews State Theater.
The Circle of the Black Thorn had their fingers
in every pot. And suddenly, their hand is gone
and there's chaos sprouting up all over the place.
- Michael and the sorcerer PAUL SOUTAR stand in Paul's basement.
There is a way to reverse the chaos.
Make the world as though it never happened.
...and all it will cost is the life of one boy.
- Michael sits on the floor of his office, a mirror lying in front of him. An image of Angel and Connor from "Home" is visible in the glass. He sets the GLOWING RED DRAGON'S STONE down on it. It ripples the air.
- Paul sends a GOLDEN STONE out the window of his basement.
- The stone crashes through Michael's window and SHATTERS THE MIRROR. Red and gold light SHOOTS OUT of Unique Antiques in all directions.
- Shots of the AIR RIPPLING as Lawrence and Colleen Reilly fall; Gunn and Lorne fall; Illyria shudders and morphs into Fred.
...The disrupted spell somehow restored the
original memories of the people it enchanted,
without wiping out the new memories.
- CONNOR turns and walks away from his confused and frightened parents outside the Reillys' house.
- Connor walks down the back hallway of Unique Antiques with Angel.
My parents really freaked out. I didn't know what else
to do. Didn't know if you'd still be around.
- FRED sags in Spike's arms in the hallway of the monastery.
Get this...thing out of me!
- ILLYRIA gazes at Spike menacingly in the same hallway.
I've been weak, letting those memories infect me
like a disease.
- In a dark sewer tunnel, Spike and Illyria PULL HUMANS TO SAFETY as ANGEL runs towards them, a group of gray-skinned demons on his heels.
Angel...still thinks the Senior Partners
and Wolfram and Hart are behind everything....
- Gunn speaks to one of the gray demons in a sewer tunnel.
This pact I came to propose is for situations
like this. I can help you talk to the humans who are
attacking you. Find a way to stop all this.
- The GRAY DEMONS face down Spike, Angel, and Illyria in an alley.
We took those humans prisoner in accordance with our
customs. You had no right to interfere!
- In the alley, a gray demon rushes at ANGEL from behind with a stake, then topples over, a JAGGED SHARD OF METAL in her back.
- Connor turns to Angel in the same alley.
Looked like you could use a little help.
- Lawrence Reilly sits across a table from his wife.
Colleen, we both agree that Connor means something to us.
Whatever else he is, wherever he came from, he needs to
- Michael gapes at a smirking Paul Soutar in his office.
The Nexus spell was never the point, was it?
You just wanted me to...
rescind the protection spell on Angel's son.
- Angel peers into the alley behind Michael's shop and sees Paul Soutar leaving.
- FLASH TO - An eighteenth-century version of PAUL SOUTAR gazes with interest at MORTAL LIAM, standing in front of a Galway tavern.
- Angel and Michael face off in his office.
Angel, if what you're saying is right,
if this guy is Nicholas Trent....
Then you've heard of Trent.
Of course I've heard of him.
...He's the bastard who murdered my son.
We're going to find this guy, Michael.
FADE TO -
EXT. A VILLAGE STREET - DAY - ESTABLISHING (FLASHBACK)
SUPER LEGEND: Galway, Ireland, 1751
ANGLE ON - The end of a WIDE COBBLESTONE STREET. We can hear the off-camera sounds of horses' hooves, voices, whips, whistles, and rolling carriage wheels. But what we see before us is an OLD STONE CHURCH. A lone horse and rider pass by it at a quick trot, the rider intent on the road ahead.
The front door of the church OPENS. An old priest in vestments steps outside, his head tilted down. Without raising it, he glances up the street, then reaches out with one foot and pushes a brick up against the door, propping it open. He heads back inside.
PULL BACK to a WIDER SHOT of the church, which is set off a respectful distance from the buildings nearby. Then continue to PULL BACK and down the street. Slowly, on both sides, a bustling MERCANTILE DISTRICT emerges--we see the butcher's, the baker's, the candlestick maker's. Men, women, and children pass down the street in both directions on foot, on horseback, and in carriages.
Our passage slows and stops at a PAIR OF SHOPS.
ANGLE ON THE SHOPS. The placard above one says Men's Clothiers; above the other, Fine Textiles. Two men stand at the door of the clothier's shop, their backs to us, as one of them NAILS A SIGN TO THE DOOR. Both men are in neat, but not fancy, tailcoats, waistcoats, ruffled collars, and knee-length breeches, with their hair tightly curled and ponytailed. Pedestrians wander by, glancing at the men and their shops as they pass. The man with the hammer finishes and stands back, as does his companion. Between them, we see the SIGN, which says, "Closed until further notice."
CLOSE-UP on the man with the hammer, who gives the door to his clothier's shop the sad once-over.
That's it, then. Eleven years I've been runnin'
this shop since Father handed over the reins.
But you can't sell garments if no one is buyin'.
He looks over at his companion.
Me, Katie, and the children set sail for the port
of Baltimore next Monday, and from there, we'll
head up to Pennsylvania Colony.
ANGLE ON - his companion. It's LIAM'S FATHER, FERGUS, looking as stiff-jawed as ever.
Business or no, you're givin' up a lot to live
in a place that can barely be called "civilization."
What makes you think you'll have your own shop there?
It's not about the shop, Fergus. It's about faith.
My father raised a Catholic man--
Fergus glances at the passers-by uncomfortably.
It's not a sin!
(he bristles angrily)
No matter what they say.
Despite everything--despite every despicable law
they've passed to drive us off our own land and
out of our homes, my father raised his children
as he saw fit. And I'll do the same.
All my life I've tried to get along.
Not stir up trouble for m'family.
But I'll not do it anymore.
Fergus gazes out at the street.
Well, God speed t'ya then.
The tailor nods gratefully. He turns his attention to the street as well.
I'll miss our little stretch of shops here,
that's for certain.
The men who work here--
(he glances at Fergus)
we're like family, wouldn't you say?
And our wives and children as well.
Don't suppose I'll be getting that sort of
neighborliness in Pennsylvania Colony.
But looking after my children's souls,
that's worth the sacrifice.
Well, you aren't the only one to feel that way.
But the Protestants won't drive my family out of
our home, or me out of my business.
The tailor gives him a quick glance, then looks away with discomfort.
God speed to you, then, Fergus.
And to your wife and children.
CLOSE-UP on Fergus as he raises his chin and stares out at the street with a tight-lipped scowl.
OVERLAPPING DISSOLVE TO - ANGEL'S FACE, tight-lipped with determination.
EXT. THE ALLEY BESIDE UNIQUE ANTIQUES - EARLY EVENING (PRESENT)
Angel walks down the alley, sword in hand, Connor at his heels.
REVERSE ANGLE ON - The street. Angel's dented and scratched blue Chevy Cavalier is parked along the sidewalk.
So this guy who messed with my parents' memories....
Angel glances over at him.
Why is he after me?
I don't know. And I don't much care.
We're going to get him before he can hurt you
any more than he already has.
(with an anxious look)
He wouldn't, I mean--
...he wouldn't go after them, would he?
I don't think so.
What happened with their memories...I think it
was just a side-effect of whatever he was trying
to do. But it doesn't matter what he wants.
I'm not giving him the chance to do it.
They arrive at the car. Angel walks around to the driver's side.
(holding out his hands)
What are you going to do against a sorcerer?
Angel reaches for the door handle.
I don't know yet. But I know where to start looking.
He opens the door.
INT. THE BACK OFFICE - UNIQUE ANTIQUES - EARLY EVENING
Michael rushes around his office, grabbing items off the shelves and out of the open chest on the floor. He carries them over to his desk and stuffs them into his HOUSE-CALL SATCHEL. His face is grim and determined.
CUT TO - THE BACK HALLWAY.
He heads out the door.
EXT. A WIDE CITY BOULEVARD - EVENING
CRANE SHOT - Once a major thoroughfare, it is now almost empty of cars. Half the buildings on the street are dark. Angel's Cavalier shoots up the street in the left lane.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EARLY EVENING
Connor sits in the passenger seat, taking in the car's interior -
The black vinyl seats are peeling in places. Wires hang loose below the dashboard. Angel is driving, eyes on the road. He glances at Connor.
So, um...how've you been?
I mean, how were you, before....
All right, I guess.
You don't sound so sure.
No, I've been fine. Everything was fine.
I'm...I'm sorry about what happened, Connor.
But I'm glad...you felt you could come to me.
Well, to be honest, I had nowhere else to go.
(a chagrined glance)
I didn't mean--
But Angel only nods.
You don't want to be back in this world,
and I don't blame you.
(he glances at him)
But I'm still your father, and I'd....
His eyes go back to the road. His hands tighten on the steering wheel.
We're going to find a way to make things right.
(he shrugs casually)
Maybe Michael could reinstate the memory spell.
Put things back the way they were.
I'll ask him as soon as we deal with Trent.
Connor gazes out the window at darkened or security-lit businesses, apartment buildings, and parking lots. Finally, after a moment -
Or maybe he shouldn't.
(a sullen glance)
Take away my parents' old memories again, I mean.
You--you think they'd accept you...even knowing
you're not their son?
Connor looks sharply at him.
He sits back, crossing his arms, and goes back to staring out the window.
You know, we hear stuff about what's going on down here.
Not that it's great where I am. We've had our car
stolen twice and our house broken into.
But you hear about L.A.--demons running around,
the military chasing them.
(a glance at Angel)
I should have known you'd be right in the thick of it.
It's not like I had a choice. What's going on in L.A.,
and all over--it sort of got dumped in my lap--our laps.
Or we got dumped in its lap. The point is, we're stepping
up. We're doing something about it.
So what else is new?
Then Connor raises his chin. His eyes narrow a bit.
I guess...what I don't get is...why is it your problem?
Because it is.
Oh, right. You're Mr. "Save the World."
That's my job, Connor. Protecting people. The world--
what you see around you now? It's going to get better.
And I'm going to make sure it stays that way.
Anyone ever tell you you had an overgrown sense
of personal responsibility?
I don't expect you to understand.
I understand. It's because of all those things you did.
(a furtive glance)
You know, before.
I can never make up for the things I did. And I'm
not trying to.
You sure about that?
It's not about "making up for things," Connor.
It's about seeing the way the world is--
Yes. And believing it can be something different.
INT. MICHAEL'S HOUSE - EVENING (FLASHBACK)
SUPER LEGEND: Los Angeles, 1986
Thirty-something Michael stands at a desk packing a cardboard box with talismans and jars of powders and herbs. The bookshelves around him are half-empty. There are nail holes in the wall. Behind Michael in the doorway is a middle-aged woman, her wavy gray-blonde hair hanging about her shoulders. She gazes at him with hurt, love, and an entrenched sort of iciness.
Dad's been after me for years to join him
at the store, and that's what I'm going to do.
(she enters the room)
You can walk away if you want, Michael, but this life
chose you, and it will find you again.
Michael stops what he's doing.
Do you hear yourself, Mom? You sound like a record
needle stuck in a groove!
Danny is dead! Your grandson! Because of "this life."
He goes back to packing, his expression pained.
And Mei is gone.
His movements slow.
While I was out "saving scores of innocents" or
whatever the hell I was supposed to do....
(his voice rises)
While I was out being the "sorcerer wunderkind" you
somehow expected me to be, I wasn't raising my son!
(and lowers again)
I certainly wasn't saving his innocent life.
He stares down into the box.
So don't talk to me about "callings" and all the
great things I'm supposed to do.
Because I don't care anymore.
You won't go after Nicholas Trent, then. Even though he--
I know what he did!
(a beat; sad)
I just don't know how he did it.
He lets the bag he's holding fall into the box on its own, then closes his eyes briefly.
QUICK FLASHBACK -
A bedroom. Thirty-something Michael enters.FLASH-CUT TO -
Michael, standing over the box on his desk, eyes downcast. His mother looks at him intently. Michael continues packing.
And I wouldn't know where to look for him.
I don't know what he looks like, do you?
There are ways of finding out. Spells.
...And even if I did find him, I'm not up to his level.
We both know that.
You can butter me up all you want, but I am a rank
amateur. I always have been.
(turning towards the door)
Fine. If you won't look for him, I will.
Michael stops. He finally turns around.
IN PROFILE TWO-SHOT - Michael looks at his mother with pained eyes.
Oh, God...Mom.... Don't.
Someone has to stop him. I thought that was part of
what you were supposed to do. But you're right. We can't
stand around waiting for destiny to just happen to us.
Michael opens his mouth, trying to form a response. As he does, the camera PANS back past him, then past his box on the desk. On the other side of the box is the PHOTOGRAPH OF DANNY familiar to us from Michael's office in 2005. HOLD on that as we -
FADE TO -
INT. MICHAEL'S TAURUS - EVENING (PRESENT)
Michael is at the wheel.
I've got you now, bastard.
I've got you now.
EXT. WOLFRAM AND HART BUILDING - EVENING - ESTABLISHING
SKY-CAM SHOT, PANNING around the building. It's still a caved-in ruin with broken windows. Angel's car is parked along a back street.
INT. FILES AND RECORDS ROOM - EVENING
The room is dark except for the GLOW OF A PAIR OF LANTERNS sitting on file cabinets. More file cabinets sit scattered around at odd angles. Drawers hang open. Long plastic light panels dangle from the ceiling. Paper is strewn across the floor, some of it water-logged and scorched.
ANGLE ON - Angel, who SLAMS a file drawer closed with frustration.
Connor looks up at him from the floor, where he is kneeling in front of another open file drawer.
Dude, you gotta chill.
We need to find information on this guy, Connor.
Yeah, well, what are the chances we'll find anything
on him in a bunch of old...burned-up paper records?
Angel breaks into a reluctant grin.
They may be "old paper records," but Trent...
he's old, too.
Look, I'm not saying I don't appreciate your help, but--
Angel finally focuses his gaze directly on Connor.
It's not "help," Connor. You're my son.
I'm going to protect you. I know you can understand that.
Connor looks down, his expression uneasy. He nods.
Angel stares around at the room, pensive.
Everyone's got weaknesses. And if anyone knows
this guy's weaknesses, it's Wolfram and Hart.
He picks up his lantern and his sword.
C'mon, we're going.
Connor stands up, startled.
Angel walks past him to the door.
To see someone who might know something about
an old client of Wolfram and Hart.
Connor turns and follows.
Besides you, you mean?
EXT. A DARK, WOODED PARK AREA - EVENING
Pine, oak, and sycamore trees encircle a small, deep glade. In the center is a STONE ALTAR three feet tall. On it sits the CRYSTAL BALL from Paul Soutar's basement table. Beside that is a bowl, its ingredients FLAMING BRIGHTLY. A gray-haired Trent/Soutar stands before the altar in his black coat. He raises a JEWELED DAGGER in his quivering hand and kisses it solemnly.
Seklisor, bless this dagger.
May my offering...be pleasing in your sight.
Trent holds out his hand and CUTS HIS PALM with the dagger. He winces. He holds his bleeding hand above the flame. Blood drips down. The flame SIZZLES.
Take of my blood, then...take of his.
And when his blood burns as mine,
f--fade the bloom of youth to fortify your power.
And recomp...recompense your humble servant.
He dips the blade into the flame, turns it this way and that, then pulls it out.
Trent gasps, doubles over, and CRIES OUT. As he stands, we see that his hair has THINNED and the wrinkles in his face have DEEPENED.
He gazes down at the altar, wheezing.
CLOSE-UP on the CRYSTAL BALL, Trent's POV - CONNOR REILLY is sitting in a car beside ANGEL.
Trent smiles, his eyebrows rising.
They always run home to Daddy when there's trouble,
FADE TO -
INT. CYVUS VAIL'S SITTING ROOM - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
SUPER LEGEND: May 2004
Burgundy walls, wood trim, and a wide red-and-white diamond-checked floor. A robust late forty-something Soutar/Trent stands at a mahogany bookshelf, gazing at the volumes shelved there.
I have no desire to join your little Circle, Cyvus.
I won't answer to the Senior Partners.
(he looks over at Vail)
I don't answer to anyone.
ANGLE ON - CYVUS VAIL--elderly, frail, and sitting in a cushioned armchair, connected to an I.V. tube.
You'll find that having powerful friends is a benefit,
Nicholas, not a handicap.
Trent gestures at Vail.
I have friends.
You have collaborators. There's a difference.
Trent gazes up at the bookshelf thoughtfully.
QUICK-FLASH TO -
Trent, walking through the corridors of Wolfram and Hart. He sees at a distance -ANGLE ON SOUTAR/TRENT, gazing at Vail's books.
So tell me about this boy, Connor Reilly.
Don't even think about it, Nicholas.
He's under my protection.
His father is a very powerful man.
His father, as I understand it, is some kind of
(waving him off)
That father is inconsequential. A place-holder.
I'm talking about his birth father.
The newest member of the Circle.
Trent turns around completely, looking stunned.
Well...that explains it.
His powers, you mean.
Not just that.
The young man has...a quality to him.
It's very special.
The same quality, I presume, as your previous
offerings to the Lower Beings.
(he pauses, looking intrigued)
Tell me what it is you see when you look at
(with a wry smile)
After a moment, Trent steps forward, past the bookshelf.
Of course, there's all sorts of interesting potential
running through that particular family.
If you mean a penchant for ruthlessness, I agree.
Why do you think we agreed to let Angel into the Circle?
It was a very big risk.
Potential, old man, potential.
(Vail's voice slows)
Which...rather makes him and his son...just as interesting
alive as they are dead.
Trent is now standing beside a SILVER-FRAMED MIRROR on the wall. He gazes into it, studying his face and his hair briefly.
I won't kill the boy, Cyvus. Not as long as he's under
The Lower Beings expect a sacrifice soon, though.
It's been nearly ten years since the last one.
There are plenty of potential heroes in the world.
Plenty of potential heroes.
But very few potential Champions.
EXT. CITY STREET - EVENING (PRESENT)
MEDIUM STREET-LEVEL SHOT - Angel's Cavalier slows and pulls into a driveway. We follow the car down an alley. Angel brings it to a halt about mid-way down.
CUT TO - Connor and Angel on foot, approaching the end of the alley. Connor's expression is anxious.
This looks kind of....
Familiar? It should. We're right behind--
They exit the alley.
REVERSE ANGLE - The back lot of a FIVE-STORY WHITE BUILDING. There is a circular driveway with an abandoned attendant's booth behind it. A sign says, "Hyperion Hotel Valet Parking."
Angel is stopped short by Connor's expression.
What's the matter?
(pausing, glancing up)
Look. It's one thing to have my memories back.
It's another thing to just--
Angel's hands go up to his hips.
Connor, I'm not leaving you out here by yourself.
Not with some--
Connor exhales and crosses his arms.
What if I just...hang out in the tunnels or something?
You can come get me when you're finished.
I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye--
(off Connor's eye-roll)
Fine. You know how to get down there from the street.
Angel continues towards the back door of the hotel. Connor doesn't budge.
Angel stops and turns back around. His brow is wrinkled with consternation.
Connor.... I know that you remember that, even when
things weren't too good between us, you always called
(tilting his head down)
Yeah, well, just because I called you that doesn't mean
that's how I thought of you.
And you don't think of me that way now, either.
Connor looks up. He sees Angel's expression and purses his lips. His eyes dip away.
Sorry. It's just...
there's someone else I call "Dad" now.
...Or there was.
ANGLE ON Angel as he turns back towards the Hyperion. He squares his shoulders. And as he does, the pensive, wounded expression on his face fades. He gazes at the hotel intently, all business.
CUT TO Connor.
Let's just say, I want to say it and mean it.
(he finally looks up)
And that takes time.
EXT. LOS ANGELES 23RD PRECINCT - EVENING - ESTABLISHING
A typical police station--gray, two stories, with a marquee out front displaying the logo of the LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT. Only these aren't typical times. The parking area beside the building is gated off with a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Behind it are a few police and military vehicles and an ARMED GUARD.
INT. LOS ANGELES 23RD PRECINCT OFFICE - EVENING
WIDE SHOT - The station is nearly empty, except for two weary-looking cops in Kevlar and helmets sipping coffee. Phones ring off the hook. LAWRENCE REILLY is standing at the desk sergeant's podium, looking as worried and frustrated as the African-American woman looks harassed and weary.
The car's equipped with one of those...those Lojack
devices, so you can track it.
(in a droning, bureaucratic voice)
We don't have time to track stolen cars, sir.
We have a lot more serious problems to deal with.
As if on cue, two cops stumble into the station, dragging a struggling HORNED-AND-TAILED BROWN DEMON. Lawrence gapes at it, then whirls back to the desk sergeant.
I have a serious problem. My son is driving around
Los Angeles and who knows what he's going to run into!
But there is a way to find him, if you'll just--
Sir, there's nobody available. I can enter your license
plate number into the system, and if the system's up and
someone happens to see the car, they'll call it in, but--
Then let me use one of your tracking devices.
The company has my name and number, I'll give it to you,
that way you can be sure I'll give it back.
(his eyes widen, pleading)
Please. Ma'am. I don't know if you have children of your
own, but if you do and one of them was loose out there,
The machines are integrated into our patrol cars and
helicopters, sir, all of which are currently busy.
CUT TO -
EXT. LOS ANGELES 23RD PRECINCT - EVENING
Lawrence exits the building, looking lost and uncertain.
WIDE SHOT - The street is nearly abandoned, except for some homeless people across the way, warming themselves around a trashcan fire.
Then Lawrence's attention focuses in on -
A POLICE CAR parked haphazardly in front of the precinct building. The INSIDE LIGHT IS ON.
Lawrence walks slowly over to the car.
ANGLE ON the FRONT DRIVER'S-SIDE DOOR, which has been incompletely shut.
Lawrence glances around, then tries the handle. The door opens. He slips inside and shuts the door tight.
His POV - a standard car dashboard, except mounted in the center of the dash is a darkened large-screen PDA and a police radio.
Lawrence touches the PDA surface with one finger, his expression a perplexed frown.
A screen comes up with a menu on it. The bottom option on the menu is VEHICLE TRACKING.
Lawrence looks over the screen, then stabs at the "scroll" button repeatedly. Each of the menu items on the screen highlights in turn. Just as the bottom item lights up -
The car door opens.
Lawrence looks up.
ANGLE ON - a Kevlar-and-helmet-wearing cop, gazing down at him expressionlessly.
Sir, step out of the car.
Lawrence grips the steering wheel nervously, then quickly lets go of it.
I'm not trying to steal it! I just want to find--
Step out of the car. Now.
The sound of a gun cocking.
EXT. SOUTAR/TRENT'S BEL AIR MANSION - EVENING
Michael pulls up to the wrought iron front gate.
CLOSE-UP on the GATE. Mounted on the bars is a coat-of-arms. The head piece of a suit of armor is carved on it in bas relief.
PULL BACK to Michael's car. He continues forward up the street and parks his Taurus in a shadowy spot under a tree.
INT. HYPERION LOBBY - EVENING
Angel enters from the back and gazes around.
PAN - The place has been cleaned up. The dust is gone, some of the light fixtures are glowing. Including one in the office. Angel walks towards it.
His POV, THROUGH THE WINDOW - No one is there.
Then we hear footsteps on the stairs. Angel turns.
LONG SHOT - Gunn is standing on the staircase, a thick book in the crook of his arm. He walks down the remaining steps and stalks past Angel.
I don't have a whole lot to say to you right now.
Angel follows him into the office.
This isn't about the Madowk.
(he throws the book down on the desk)
'Cause from here on out, Angel, you're out of it.
Gunn sits down and opens the book. His lips are tight. Then he looks up at Angel, who is looming on the other side of the desk.
Did you even bother finding out anything about
the Madowk before you charged into their lair,
There was a time when you would have at least
done some research.
Gunn starts flipping through the pages of the book.
(leaning forward, hands on the desk)
In case you haven't noticed, we're not at Wolfram and Hart
anymore. We don't even have the resources of Angel
Investigations. I came across a group of people in
trouble, I had to make some quick decisions.
For all I knew, those hostages might have be killed
while I had my nose in a book.
(eyes rising from his book)
Maybe. But don't you think it'd be smarter to
start gathering together some "resources" so they'd
be there when you needed them, instead of continuously
charging in with this "seat-of-the-pants" strategy of yours?
Angel, all you succeeded in doing was making a
tense situation worse.
I don't have time to argue about this. I need to ask you
about a former client of Wolfram and Hart.
A guy named Nicholas Trent.
Here we go again.
Gunn stabs a finger at him.
Not arguing. Just saying. You need to do some serious
thinking about your strategy, Angel.
'Cause what you're doing now--running around at random,
looking for "agents" of the Senior Partners--
the new "Circle"--
Nicholas Trent is--
--You're acting as if what we did last May didn't matter!
He jerks his chair back and stands up, facing Angel down.
We did what we had to when we took out the
Circle of the Black Thorn, even if we couldn't
foresee all the consequences.
(beat, voice rising)
But you seem to think a new Circle's just waiting to
pop up again and take over the world!
Angel opens his mouth to reply. Gunn cuts him off.
Well, what if it isn't?!
Angel, the way to keep the Circle from coming back,
the way to keep the Partners down, is to do what they
were doing, only without the evil.
He picks up his book, shuts it, and shakes it at Angel, looking more like a country preacher than a lawyer.
We need to fill the hole we created ourselves.
Bring together folks--human and demon--who want to
do some good. Who want to rebuild!
Are you through?
Gunn sets the book back down.
Gunn, I am not chasing down another agent of the
Senior Partners this time. Trent's...after someone.
Someone I'm trying to protect.
Gunn lets out a long sigh. He sits back down.
Yeah, I heard of the dude. Some kind of sorcerer.
I don't know much about him.
The guy who could have told you isn't around
anymore, is he?
Just give me anything you've got.
Gunn frowns at Angel. Then his eyes grow thoughtful.
Trent was a client. A colleague of that demon warlock,
Cyvus Vail, if I remember right. We took care of a real
estate deal for him. An old mansion in Bel Air.
I'll need the address for that.
So Trent's human?
(reaching for a pad of paper on the desk)
'S far as I know.
Nothing I saw on him said otherwise.
Gunn picks up a pen and jots something down on the pad. He rips off the paper and hands it to Angel. Angel takes it.
Four hundred block of Mariposa.
Front gate has a coat of arms on it.
The head piece from a suit of armor.
But Trent...here's the weird thing. We--
Wolfram and Hart, I mean--had records of
business transactions with him going back
at least a hundred years.
What are you thinking?
He extended his life by supernatural means?
I guess so.
Angel shakes his head. He gazes off into space.
No. That's not simple magic.
(deep in his own thoughts)
Magic is like physics. You don't get something from
nothing. To extend a human life...a sorcerer's life, you
have to offer up something of equal or greater value.
Something with power.
...Even if it doesn't belong to you.
There were suspicions that he dealt in dark magicks.
But nothing we could ever prove.
(still thinking out loud)
Sacrifices. Children. ...Special children?
(glancing at Gunn)
He killed Michael's son twenty years ago.
And now he might be going after my....
Angel trails off.
Look, Gunn, about that....
Gunn chuckles and shakes his head. He sits back in his chair. His hand reaches out for his book.
(gazing at it)
You know, I've been trying to read up on the Madowk,
but I keep getting distracted by all these thoughts.
I've been sitting here all evening trying to figure out
what I remember, and what I've forgotten.
And when I forgot it.
(he sits forward, his eyes still on the book)
And then I finally figured it out.
(he looks up)
It happened the day we joined Wolfram and Hart.
I walked into that building knowing you had a son.
And I walked out of it forgetting he ever existed.
That's why you took the deal, isn't it? To give the kid
a new life somewhere. Make him forget his old one?
I just...wanted a clean slate for him.
Oh, I get why you wanted to give him a do-over,
a fresh start. I do. Connor was pretty messed up.
(voice tinged with anger)
But what I don't get is why you messed with our heads.
Did you think we would hurt him?
Or did the Senior Partners stipulate that part of
Does it matter?
Yes, it matters!
Gunn sits up and leans forward. His voice dips, full of resolve.
What's in my head, now, then...no one's got any
right to it but me, Angel.
Everything I think, everything I decide....
(he taps his head)
It comes from what I remember,
and it suffers from what I don't remember.
So how can I be sure my decisions at Wolfram and Hart
weren't influenced by what I didn't know?
Or the decisions any of us made?
Gunn sits back. He shakes his head.
This is just like you, Angel. How you always are.
Making choices for other people without consulting them.
(Gunn's eyes shift past Angel)
Angel gazes at Gunn, puzzled, then stands tall and turns.
His POV - Connor, standing in the middle of the lobby.
I thought you were going to stay in the tunnels.
Well, there's some, uh...demons down there.
Like over by your friend's shop.
Gunn stands, his eyes filled with alarm.
You didn't hurt them, did you?
Connor looks startled.
Then his eyes dip, and he purses his lips.
At least, not--
Gunn turns to Angel.
See? Even he knows better than to just jump 'em first,
ask questions later.
Connor continues to gazes down, his expression stony.
Gunn, what are they doing down there?
I'm giving them sanctuary.
They took three humans, Gunn!
Just dragged them down into the sewers--
It was a ritual abduction! They did it for leverage!
The humans started all of this. Did you know they were
throwing military-issue grenades down into the Madowk's
lair, trying to clear them out of an area their clan has
lived in since those sewers were built?
There's a lot of that going on all over the city, in case you
haven't noticed. People just trying to protect themselves.
Angel, the Madowk are peaceful--underground dwellers
who feed on whatever they can find in the sewer. But their
food sources have diminished since all this crap started,
and it forced them above ground.
The humans saw them and panicked.
Peaceful? They attacked me, Spike, and Illyria
outside Michael's shop! They tried to abduct her!
(off Gunn's concerned look)
Don't worry. She's O.K. Well, not O.K., but the Madowk
didn't hurt her. We didn't let them.
Angel, the Madowk live by a very strict code of behavior.
They don't mess with anyone as long as they're left alone.
But if you mess with them, they have rules that dictate
how they'll respond.
The hostage-taking was supposed to be a prelude to
negotiation, at least in their minds.
(finally backing down)
And we took away their leverage.
So they probably tried to abduct one of "your clan"
for the same reason.
Do you think they'll try again?
Gunn reaches down for one of the books he has on the desk.
Not if I can straighten this all out.
You're going to, what--mediate between the humans and
the Madowk? Gunn, we're not at Wolfram and Hart anymore.
Gunn looks up at him.
So that means I should stop using the knowledge they put
in my head? I have that knowledge for life, Angel--
(he glances past Angel)
...Just like you still have what they gave you.
(eyes back on his books)
And I'm going to use what they gave me to do some good.
He stands tall, squaring his shoulders.
Now I think you should go. I have a lot of work to do.
And you'd better not let the Madowk see you, because I had
to do a whole mess of quick talking to convince them you
and me weren't working together anymore.
Yeah, I guess we're not.
A beat passes between them. Then Angel turns and exits the office.
C'mon, Connor, let's go.
EXT. PAUL SOUTAR/TRENT'S BEL AIR ESTATE - EVENING (PRESENT)
WIDE SHOT - Inside the grounds, near the back of the house. Bushes line the rear wall under the windows. Michael steals past them at a slight crouch, head low, his house-call satchel dangling from one hand. Finally, he veers over towards one particular bush, then sinks to his belly and scrambles underneath it.
His POV - a small window at the base of the wall. It's OPEN.
Michael crawls up to it and peers inside.
His POV - PAUL SOUTAR'S WORKSHOP, dim save for the light from outside. The Orlon Window and an empty beaker sit on the table. But Soutar/Trent is nowhere to be seen.
CLOSE-UP on Michael's face as he stares inside. He exhales. Then his expression slowly hardens with sorrow, hatred, and humiliation.
Where are you...bastard?
He exhales with a shudder, then raises his fingertips up to his forehead. He closes his eyes.
The ritual to transfer the life-force of a youth of
He'd need...a--a consecrated space,
(he opens his eyes, which are full of frustration)
Which could be anywhere!
and a fresh sample of his blood....
He heaves a weary sigh, then pulls himself out from under the bush and sits beside it. Then his eyes widen. He quickly fumbles in his satchel and pulls out the GRAY STONE that broke the Nexus spell mirror. He stares at it, almost smiling.
I may be a "rank amateur," but I do
have a flair for locator spells.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EVENING
Connor sits slouched in the passenger seat, hands clasped in his lap.
I killed one of them. Those...Madowks.
Connor, you came in on a situation you didn't
understand. You saw me in danger, you reacted.
Connor looks at him.
The demon I killed was going after you with a stake
because you had that other guy cornered with
That happens in battle.
They were just trying to protect themselves.
They were trying to take Fr--Illyria. And now they'll
probably come after you. I'm not going to let that happen.
And I don't want it to happen, either!
(crossing his arms)
But I understand them wanting to protect
You understand that, too.
They lapse into silence for a moment. Then -
So...you don't think that, just because someone
is a demon, that....
Connor throws him a glance.
I don't hate you anymore, if that's what you're asking.
Connor sits up. He stares straight ahead, his eyes pensive.
(after a pause)
I've decided you're right.
I want you to ask your sorcerer friend to redo
the spell on my family.
(a quick glance)
I just want my life back the way it was.
Angel gazes at him, frowning.
Are you sure?
Connor nods. A beat goes by.
Your memories, too, or just theirs?
Connor stares down.
Just theirs. I guess.
I don't know.
Now you definitely don't sound sure.
He lapses into silence again. Stares out the window. Finally -
I guess I've been having some trouble.
Trouble with what?
Connor turns his head towards Angel, but doesn't look at him.
I...got a little messed up for a while.
Had...nightmares. Trouble sleeping.
I'd get...angry at my family or my friends
for no reason.
I decided to take a break from school. I figured
I could do more good at home, anyway, keeping
an eye on my family.
My parents...took me to see a therapist.
But what was I supposed to say to him? That the life
I thought was real wasn't and the life that was real
is like a bad dream I can't get out of my head?
It was...it was already going on that day you came
to see me in the coffee house, but I didn't want
you to worry.
Angel gives him a long stare, hands gripping the steering wheel. Then he looks back at the road.
Let's take care of Nicholas Trent.
Then, if that's what you want, we'll talk to Michael.