Existential Scoobies presents
Angel: the Series Season 6
Some Things Wicked
(November 02, 2005)
Written by Lady Starlight and Deeva
PREVIOUSLY, ON "ANGEL" -
- Scenes of UTTER DEVASTATION around Los Angeles.
- DEMONS RIOT against the human military in a demon internment camp.
- SLAYERS and CIVILIANS battle against vampires, werewolves, and demons outside the Loews State Theater.
- SPIKE and ANGEL sit in the dimly-lit monastery workshop/sitting room, looking stunned and exhausted.
I'm not going to back down to the Senior
Partners now. We've accomplished so much,
sacrificed so much, we can't start sucking up to
the same demons who are dragging humanity towards
You can't be sure the Senior Partners had anything
to do with this.
I know they're out there. Testing the waters,
searching for allies, waiting to put the world back
together the way they want.
- GUNN sits at the head of the conference table in the Hyperion Hotel meeting room, talking to the representatives of two demon clans.
I brought you two together in the first place because
with all of the chaos and destruction in our city,
there is an obvious need to re-establish order.
And what is also obvious is that we can't rely on others
to do it for us.
We need to do it ourselves, by helping each other.
- MICHAEL consults the SORCERER Paul Soutar/Nicolas Trent in Trent's basement workshop.
There is a way to reverse the chaos. Make the world as
though it never happened.
- Michael faces off with Soutar/Trent in the back room of Unique Antiques.
I can't go through with the Nexus spell, Paul...
There has to be some other way to deal with the chaos
than killing a young man.
(grasping Michael's wrist)
Thousands of people have already died, Michael!
...You're just going to let the destruction continue
when you have a way to stop it?
How is that ethical?
...I still believe there's a role for magic in ending the chaos
But I'm going to find another approach.
- A MORTAL DRUSILLA cowers, wild-eyed, in the corner of the Mother Superior's office of a convent while the vampires ANGELUS and DARLA look on.
Black sky. It wants a little wormy me....
(then, screaming -)
No. No. Make it stop!
- The VAMPIRE DRUSILLA walks slowly across a rooftop, her violet dress billowing in the wind.
Drusilla. She's been here. She might even still be here.
- Michael and Angel face off in the monastery sanctuary.
What's going on here?
QUICK-FLASH BETWEEN A SERIES OF IMAGES as Angel replies -
- Spike and Angel battling RENEGADE ARMY SOLDIERS;
Hmm, let's see. Utter chaos, daily bloodshed,
innocent dead, government people working for us one moment
and against us the next...
- The red-skinned, ridge-faced demon BUCON strolling out onto a catwalk overlooking a cheering crowd of hundreds of different kinds of demons;
...at least three supervillains still on the loose that we know of...
- FRED shooting a crossbow bolt at ILLYRIA in the entranceway of the monastery;
...and, oh yeah, I just had a previously dead friend
whose body was infected and destroyed by
a skillion-year-old self-possessed demi-god
come back to life out completely of the blue. How was your day?
FADE UP -
EXT. UNIQUE ANTIQUES - EVENING
CRANE SHOT of the antique store. The camera ZOOMS DOWN and in through the front door, through the retail area, and comes to a halt at the door to Michael's office in the rear.
INT. UNIQUE ANTIQUES - EVENING
The door is slightly ajar. Soft chanting and a flicker or two of greenish light emanate from the room.
DOLLY THROUGH the door and CUT TO the left. There is a FIGURE standing at the desk, its back to the door. The room is dark but for some greenish flickers that are coming from a BOWL in front of it. A stronger FLASH lights up the figure's face and we see it is MICHAEL.
PAN DOWN to the desk. A stone, a feather, a lit candle, and a chalice are spaced evenly around the bowl, and there are glass bottles of various colored powders on Michael's left side. We can read some of the labels on the bottles - tiger's eye, powdered wolf hair, saffron, and evening primrose. Almost pushed off the end of the table is a medium-sized KNIFE with dark smears along the blade.
Michael consults a few open volumes lying to his right. The books are large and have worn parchment-type pages. He makes a notation in a notebook and, casting another look at the vessel, tentatively begins to chant.
Lords of the OtherWorlds, I come to you in supplication.
Give unto me the power of your All-Seeing Eye.
Show unto me a way to salvation.
Accept these gifts that I offer up to you.
I bend low before you, your feet are to my lips.
I adore you 'til the end.
Search out for me an end to the chaos.
Reveal it unto me that I may stop it,
that I may bring order to the world once more!
Michael reaches into another container and takes a handful of powder. He CASTS it into the bowl. Red flames SHOOT up from it. Michael scoots back from it with a pleased expression on his face.
He gingerly inches back towards the bowl. We can hear a rather comforting bubbling noise coming from it, like the noise a thick stew makes as it cooks. Michael peeks over the bowl, almost as if he expects something to reach out and grab him.
Michael's POV - the inside of the bowl. The mixture has gone back to its original green. We can see Michael's reflection through a green haze. His face wavers with the movement of the liquid.
CUT BACK TO the original shot.
Michael makes another notation in his notebook and continues the invocation.
Great are you, your power is endless.
He clasps his hands together and rubs them.
He turns to the open cabinet at his left, picks up a flagon, and decants dark, thick fluid into the bowl, then throws another handful of powder in as well.
In all your great and fearsome names, REVEAL!
He stops chanting. A small puff of smoke floats up and expands as it rises. A faint, silvery spherical shape begins to form in the smoke.
(smiling a little)
Suddenly, the door behind Michael FLIES OPEN. Michael scrambles around, knocking over his chair.
Spike swaggers through the door.
Michael? You seen....
Spike stops abruptly. He stares at the hazy SMOKE and SPHERE behind Michael. His eyes pan slowly down to Michael's face.
Don't you knock? I'm in the middle of something here.
The smoke starts to dissipate behind Michael.
Spike's eyes cast around the room slowly. He sniffs.
(with a skeptical look on his face)
You hurt yourself, or somethin'?
(a bit bewildered)
Michael, still facing Spike, bends over and rights his chair. He stands up.
I was working out a spell when you interrupted.
A spell to help you.
Me? Or Angel?
And what makes you think we need help?
(he glances up above Michael's head)
Smoke's all gone.
Michael whirls back to the vessel. The faint sphere has disappeared, leaving only a haze of smoke.
ANGLE ON the BOWL - the green light is almost completely out now. Only a few sluggish sparkles remain in the bottom of the bowl.
Michael SMACKS both hands down on the table.
No! I was so close!
He turns, picks up his notebook, and runs his finger over the last notation, mumbling as he does so. Then he starts to move away from the desk, but is stopped by Spike's hand on his shoulder.
Let's chat about this...
...help you think we need, shall we?
CUT TO an ANGLE looking into the room from outside the door, framing a back view of Spike. Without looking backwards, he casually swings his foot back and shuts the door.
INT. UNIQUE ANTIQUES - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS
Spike faces Michael down.
So, Gandalf the Greige, just what were you conjuring here?
Michael sets his notebook down.
I'm not doing anything wrong.
Didn't say that. But a bloke has a right to get wind
of the sort of trouble he might be dealin' with.
Trouble? No, no. That's not what I was doing at all.
Like I said, this is help.
(with a skeptical chuckle)
I once knew an earnest little sort just like you.
'Course, she was a mite cuter, but she had power, that one.
What she didn't have was sense.
Couldn't respect the balance of things.
Michael's brow furrows with irritation.
Don't lecture me. I'm not a novice.
Never said you were, but you said yourself
that you walked away from magic a while ago.
Walking away doesn't mean I forgot any of it!
I know about the balance. I could lecture you about it.
Spike holds both hands up in front of him.
All right then. Not here to be hall monitor.
Just making it known where I stand on all this.
(he peers at Michael cautiously)
Angel know what you up to?
(a tad derisively)
No. A better question would be whether Angel
even knows what's really going on in this city.
That's why I've taken it upon myself to do this.
And what's "this"?
I've been researching.
(he points to the pile of books on the table)
These books are remarkable.
I got them from Soutar--I mean Trent's--mansion.
(his voice rises with excitement)
I--I'd heard much of them but have never had
an opportunity to peruse them.
(he pauses, looking down pensively)
The things one can do....
(he looks back up at Spike)
Anyhow, I've been researching and writing a reveal spell.
Spike cocks an eyebrow.
Michael starts to pace back and forth in front of Spike.
(in an excited babble)
To reveal a way...maybe a spell...
to end all this chaos much faster.
Think of all the lives that would be saved!
Spike takes a small step backwards and leans against the door. He reaches into his duster pocket, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and taps the pack against the lighter. He then removes a cigarette from the pack, and taps it against the pack as well.
(in a humoring tone)
Right, so you make with the wand waving and then what, Mikey?
We enact another bloody play?
Join hands and get our kumbaya-yas out?
(he shivers a little)
Now, that we can do without.
Michael eyes Spike's cigarette. A look of censure crosses his face. Spike sees the look, shrugs, and places the items back into his pocket.
Don't humor me.
It's really a simple thing.
Really? Doesn't sound simple, what with all the research.
Spike grabs a chair, swings it around, and straddles it. He crosses his forearms on top of the back of the chair.
This isn't something one would do often.
I have to ask the higher beings for the sight to see
a possible solution to the chaos.
It's a major side-stepping of karma.
The higher beings don't like that much. But it will help you.
You know, you keep on with all this "You, you, you" stuff,
but if you'll just notice, I'm not Angel's keeper.
Not here to speak for him.
But he's your friend. Wouldn't you want to assist him?
Wouldn't you want to fix what's wrong?
'Course I do. Just not sure this is the best way to it.
What's wrong with sortin' things out on our own?
We bumblin' around too much for your taste?
Not quick enough for you?
You goin' freelance, too?
That's not what I meant.
Lay it out for ol' Spike, then.
It's just...I think that maybe Angel is getting too....
preoccupied with things other than helping
this city get back on its feet.
I'm just looking for a way that will definitively
cut through our uncertainty about the causes.
If I can do that, then he'll see precisely what
needs to be done to end all this.
(rolling his eyes)
That's what I just said.
Michael pauses to think a moment.
O.K., so maybe I am feeling a little
frustrated with how things are moving along.
But I don't really see a downside to this.
So you thought you'd skip right along to "side-stepping karma," then.
Why can't we go about this the old-fashioned way?
Michael doesn't know what to make of this remark. A blank look falls over his face.
You know, good ol' sleuthin'?
What, you and me and Angel?
I think the city's problems are a little too
complicated for a little "sleuthing."
We can ask Gunn and his merry band to pitch in.
I thought Gunn left because he and Angel couldn't agree on things.
If he's needed and s'important enough, Charlie'll come through.
And Angel would ask for his help?
Spike purses his lips at this. His eyebrows scrunch together slightly.
Yeah, so Angel is a bit preoccupied. One-track mind and all.
This sodding Senior Partners business
is making his mind murkier than usual.
(gesturing at his spell ingredients)
That's why I'm doing this.
(muttering to himself, mostly)
Someone's got to do something around here.
Things'll never get done if I wait around for Angel
to snap out of it.
Look at me, playin' nursemaid to everybody.
Who'da thought that, eh?
So you understand, then?
Spike thinks for a moment.
But I think that maybe magic's best used in more dire situations.
Makes the consequences that always come more palatable, you know?
Give us a mite more time, yeah? Might come through just yet.
What's your doing here's a good plan "L", though.
Or are we on "M"?
Why didn't you tell Angel about it in the first place?
(in a slightly annoyed tone)
Would it have mattered?
EXT. HYPERION HOTEL - NIGHT
CRANE SHOT overlooking the Hyperion. The camera DROPS DOWN to the courtyard door then PUSHES THROUGH doors, ANGLES LEFT, and CUTS UP the lobby stairs.
CUT TO -
INT. HYPERION MEETING ROOM - EVENING
In the center of the room are several small tables shoved together to form one. The amalgamated table has papers set before each of the chairs surrounding it.
A long, narrow table sits at the side of the room. On it are a coffee urn, several pitchers with different liquids in them, cups stacked haphazardly, and plates filled with snacks. It looks like the setup for a staff meeting.
A group of humans and demons--gray, bat-eared Madowk, green lizard-like demons, and spiny-face Brachens--spill through the side doors into the room. GUNN is at the front, ANNE and LORNE near the middle. They are all talking at once in an excited buzz of conversation.
I know we need help, but right now,
the most important thing is to start finding
clans who're still undecided.
Get them to throw in with us.
That whole vampire nest thing could've been avoided if
those Ta'areks had known they had somebody to go to about it.
Agrrreed. But we must also rrrememberrr that
to most of us,
humans have been the enemy forrr yearrrs,
if not centurrries.
Gunn and the lizard demon head to the catering table, and each fixes up a plate, grabs cups of a different liquid, and finds a seat at the table. The rest of the group do the same.
The conversations slowly die down, except for one or two. Finally, Gunn smacks his hand a couple of times on the table.
O.K., guys, listen up. Things are going well,
we've gotten quite a few more members on board.
What about that Mithral clan on the north side?
(consulting some notes)
They've agreed to think about joining us.
Some of the younger ones are really enthusiastic about it,
but the elders are not happy.
Liked the status quo?
No, they just want to be left alone.
Go back and tell them that things aren't going to
return to normal for a long time.
If they stay put, it's in their best interest as a clan to join up.
If they want to try and get out of the city,
we'll help out--supplies, maybe an escort.
(making a note)
(raising a hand)
Sweeties? It's nice that we're all "Up with demons,"
but shouldn't we be doing
a little human outreach as well?
There is silence for a few beats, then a few shocked voices break out.
Why? What have humans ever done for us?
Hey! Who staked that vampire for you, huh?
I did not mean you!
Don't you think that the humans would be resistant to that?
Gunn bangs his hand on the table again and waits until everyone is silent.
The truth is, I have done some outreach to human groups,
and they have been more resistant than I hoped they'd be.
Some talk about waiting for the government and the military
to solve the problem. Which you can bet means making things
worse for the demon clans.
Others have taken issue with me because I'm former
Wolfram and Hart. And the Slayers--
Grumblings from the demon sections of those present.
(with a sigh, gazing around at them all)
When it comes to integrating demons and humans...there's work
to be done.
I can try and get the guys from the old
gang to start coming to meetings more often.
(she looks wistful for a moment)
And maybe the others will change their minds about joining us.
Do you think they'd go for it?
Don't know, but there's safety in numbers, right?
The human woman waves a hand to get their attention.
I'm Kara. I, I can talk to my neighbor, Ralph--
he's been around for a long time.
Has influence with a lot of people on the north side.
And he stayed put through all this.
It's a start. That's the kind of thing we need to be doing.
Looking for the people who can help us network with others.
EXT. THE MONASTERY - EVENING - ESTABLISHING
INT. ANGEL'S OFFICE
Angel sits at the desk, looking through many sheaves of paper. At the center of the desk is the thick old book Angel stole from Wolfram and Hart the previous Fall. Angel holds up the pile of papers and squints at it, then turns the papers around counter-clockwise.
There you are.
Spike leans against the door frame. In his hand is an open bottle of whiskey. Angel casts a glance over at him.
What do you want?
Spike takes a swig from the bottle.
Was lookin' to see what we should be doin' right about now.
Angel puts down the papers, leans forward in his seat and bows his head. He rests his elbows on his thighs and runs both hands through his hair.
Spike enters the room and draws a chair up to Angel's left. He sets the bottle down on the desk, removes his duster, and drapes it over the back of the chair, then sits. He picks up the bottle and tilts it in Angel's direction, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.
Angel shakes his head.
He takes another swig.
Angel sighs, leans over to his right, opens a desk drawer, and removes a bottle of Scotch. He places it on the desk next to Spike's bottle.
Been holdin' out on me, then?
In the next instant, Angel produces two tumblers and places them on the desktop. He silently pours from the bottle into the glasses. Then he picks up his glass, downs the entire contents, and carefully places the glass back down, his head still slightly tilted back. After a moment's hesitation, Spike follows suit.
Shouldn't be drinking right now.
Got to be prepared for anything.
Yeah, s'thinking like that that'll get things done.
Wound up like that, liable to go starkers.
Can't have a spot of fun now and again?
Oh wait, forgot who I was talkin' to, silly me.
Wasn't aware that I had stopped.
They both finish off another glassful of Scotch. Spike refills the glasses, this time around with whiskey.
Ought to keep an eye on Michael.
(looking at him, puzzled)
Yeah, you know, about my height.
Balding. Earnest. That Michael.
Walked in on him earlier, workin' up some interestin' mojo.
Not the usual stuff though. Said it was a souped-up "reveal spell."
It called for blood.
(taking a large swallow from the glass)
And you know that blood's only called for in dodgier things.
Anything that's above board wouldn't include any being's
Why didn't he say anything to me about it?
(sarcastically, gesturing at the papers before Angel with his glass)
Dunno. Something about you being too busy.
You ask me, he's got a bit of a "delusions of grandeur" thing.
Angel considers this bit of information, his glass against his lips. Then he swallows it down.
Maybe it's that prophecy thing of his.
You get told that you have a
(he makes "air quotes")
destiny, it sometimes does something to your head.
Wouldn't want to cross him,
could turn me into a circus bear or something.
Spike finishes off his glass. Angel stares at him.
What am I supposed to do about it?
(rolling his eyes)
Maybe get your head out of your arse and actually do
something other than brood about these
"agents of the Senior Partners" you think are lurking about--
causing the chaos and getting the skinny on our plans.
Have to say...it's been a helluva long time since we
popped back through the portal, and I haven't seen a one.
(he lifts his empty glass)
Pour me another.
Angel pours another round in both glasses. Spike raises his glass.
He swallows his drink, slams the glass on the table, and looks expectantly at Angel.
Not your bartender.
You're closer to the bottle. Pour.
Angel sighs and pours Spike another drink, hesitates for a second, then tops off his own glass.
Y'know, just because your big finish didn't happen
doesn't mean you have to go around lookin' for another one.
You are. You're all "Senior Partners" and
"new Circle of the Black Thorn" and
you ignore life, man!
You aren't living, but you aren't gone, either.
Spike contemplates his glass for a moment.
If you don't want to lose another player,
then maybe you should ease up on the Senior Partners obsession.
Our numbers are dwindling, and much as I like Hobbes,
he's not a fighter.
Don't know how much good we can do for this city with
two souled vamps, a wonky, big-brained girl, and a silent old man.
So what, I just go around ordering things be done?
There's not exactly a handbook to all this hero stuff, you know.
Bugger, you'd think you'd never bossed people around before.
(in a louder tone)
What the hell do you think you've been doing all this time?
Why the heck do you think Charlie left?
Angel just drinks his alcohol silently in response.
Spike makes a dismissive motion with one hand.
It's not because you couldn't make a bloody decision.
You issue orders. But you don't bother to ask. Never did.
Dru used to natter on about that after you left.
Wanted me to order her around.
Yeah, I bet that went well. Dru never really took orders.
Always figured that's why you went along when she turned me.
And just look how that turned out.
They look at each other, then raise their glasses in a toast to each other and drink. Angel picks up the bottle of Scotch, peers at how much is left, and then looks at how much is left in Spike's bottle, then sloshes more Scotch into his glass.
He picks up and drains his shot.
Why haven't we seen any sign of them?
(toying with his tumbler and rolling his eyes)
The agents that are lurking behind every trash can?
Look, we know that the Partners had
people working for them before--Eve, Hamilton.
And they were "secret" agents how exactly again?
What with the whole "I'm your liason" thing,
I could see how you'd get confused.
Gee. Does that sound like someone here?
Spike smirks a little. There is a moment of silence.
So you're reasoning's what? We haven't seen any, ergo
they're everywhere? Suspicious bastard, aren't you?
Just because we haven't seen them,
doesn't mean they aren't around.
They could be right under our nose.
Angel meets Spike's gaze.
Maybe even Hobbes.
Angel leans forward in his chair, eyes focused on Spike.
Think about it. He's always here, never goes anywhere--
S'because he's a bloody monk--!
(continuing, over Spike)
He took us in when he had no reason to,
when it endangered him.
Spike stands, shoving his chair back from the desk. It falls to the floor. He plants both hands on the desk and leans forward into Angel's face.
He's a holy man, you idiot! That's his job!
Taking in those who need care.
If Hobbes is in league with anyone, I'll eat my boots.
Angel rubs his hand over his face.
O.K., O.K., No need to shout. You're right.
'F'course I'm right. Pillock.
Spike turns around, picks his chair up, and sits down again.
But they're out there.
And what're you gonna do if they are?
Eliminate them. Show the Senior Partners
that I'm onto their little game.
Right. Because that's always worked before.
(he raises his glass to Angel)
Good on ya, mate!
What would you do then, if you're so smart?
What was the first thing you taught me?
Guard your perimeter.
(he counts on his fingers)
O.K., what was the sixth thing you taught me?
Never lead with your left foot?
No, you idiot. "Know thine enemy."
Angel looks at Spike pointedly.
What I'd do, if I found those
"agents", I'd leave them be.
Make the rounds to all the haunts,
chat up the underlings in the know.
Feed them misinformation. Allude to things that don't exist.
They go scurrying back to spread the word.
Zig while they zag. Loads of fun, if you do it up right.
Did you go to spy camp too?
Ate a spy once, that's about it.
C'mon, Angel, you know I'm right. Running around
after phantoms is not going to help any.
Yeah, maybe. But they're out there.
When was the last time you watched television? 1972?
I watch hockey.
(making air quotes)
Mulder. "They're out there"?
(he leans in towards Angel)
M'not saying they're not.
(off Angel's skeptical look)
O.K., maybe I am. But you have to admit that
after going months, the chances are slim of
the Senior Partners setting up a new network of SuperFiends.
Maybe they've given up. Maybe they can't
get through to anyone on this plane.
Like magical static on the telly.
You took down their communication lines, y'know.
A person'd hafta be psychic for them to....
Right, because Dru would be a go-to person for something like that.
Like I just said, a slim chance at best.
(with grim determination)
Slim chance is not no chance.
Spike drops his head into his hands, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
Will you listen to yourself?
I'd rather listen to myself trying to find answers
than you sitting there telling me there's nothing
to worry about!
Angel pushes his chair back from the desk, stands, and starts to pace.
No wonder Dru left you. I'd leave too.
You never think things are serious.
I don't know why I bother listening to you.
A moment passes as Spike allows Angel's last words sink in. Spike finishes his drink, pounds the glass onto the desk, and pushes away from it. He stands.
Right. Just trying to help here.
But now I see that you don't need it
because it's just so bloody clear that you've
got things under control.
I'll just bugger off now, bloody bastard!
Don't tell me I've hurt your feelings.
You've had much worse done to you.
By me, if I remember correctly.
Spike grabs his duster off the back of his chair, stalks towards the door and stops. He turns quickly around to face Angel.
You just bugger off and do whatever it is you got stuck
in that thick forehead of yours!
But when you do find these agents, if you find Dru too,
consider one thing before you do anything that you'll regret.
That things aren't what you always think they are.
She could be a part of the solution,
just not in the way you think!
Spike leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
INT. A TOWN COACH - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
SUPER LEGEND: London, 1860
SIDE VIEW - Angelus is sitting in the forward seat (right side of screen) looking out of the carriage window with Darla just across. The carriage rocks a bit. We can hear the clattering of horses' hooves on cobblestone.
(in an impatient tone)
Is she the solution?
Angelus looks away from the window, broken out of his reverie.
Darla begins fussing with her kid gloves and smoothing the skirt of her dress.
Is this mad girl what you need to get this...
restlessness out of your system?
What are you going on about?
Angelus reaches across the carriage, grabbing both of Darla's hands in his one. She struggles briefly to get out of his grasp, refusing to look him in the eye. He tugs on her hands and turns her chin towards him with his other hand.
Y've been in a foul mood all evening, darlin'.
What's rattling around in that wicked mind of yours?
Cool imperiousness flits across Darla's face before turning into a controlled rage.
I'm surprised you've even noticed,
what with all this wild chasing and slinking about
you have us doing for this--this...ridiculous girl!
Be done with her already!
Angelus barks with laughter, letting go of her hands.
Oh ho! Don' tell me yer jealous of this lass?
As the words leave his mouth, Darla wrenches her head back, out of Angelus' hold.
I am no such thing! What I am is tired of this place.
I'm sick of being where it smells like middens,
all so you can show off your skill.
Who is there to preen for? Me? I know what you can do, what you are.
Why do you think you're here?
Darla turns to face away from Angelus, her eyes cast outside intently, but not watching the grubby street scene pass by.
(in a slightly consoling tone)
You can't be serious, my love.
This little one is nothing in comparison.
There is none to be found. She's just a moment's fancy.
Darla still does not look in Angelus' direction.
A moment's fancy! You've had us tramping after
her and her bratty sisters as they go to church and back
for innumerable nights.
With the God-fearing masses milling about,
mewling and crying to their God. As if their God could stop us.
(she sniffs and brings her tone of voice back down)
I confess to not knowing your mind anymore.
This is beyond what I thought you would do with her.
Your enjoyment of tormenting her I can understand,
but this is just excessively ridiculous.
Filthy little thing. I rue the night I laid eyes on her.
Are you not the one who singled out the girl?
Pointed to her and said she would be
an intriguing morsel to bat about?
Darla huffs and says nothing.
Angelus takes a moment to reconsider his approach.
He moves out of his seat and kneels, positioning himself between Darla's skirted and flounced knees. He places a hand on either of her thighs and leans into her. His mouth hovers just over Darla's right ear. Darla remains straight-backed, affecting the air of someone trying to be implacable.
I've been remiss.
(he nuzzles into Darla's ear)
I am ever obliged to you for singling her out so.
This little one's sight is all the more intriguing.
His face drifts down the side of her neck, nipping here and there.
She believes that there is a God who speaks to her,
whispering things that she ought not know.
Darla's resolve melts under this attention. She raises a hand to caress Angelus' hair. Her eyes are half-closed. A small smile plays along the curve of her lips.
She fears things she doesn't know how to put a name to.
(his hands run up her corseted waist and then down, before resting)
The torment in her mind and soul is sweet.
Surely you can see how....
He shifts his body forward, pulling Darla's hips towards him, in an out-of-camera-sight-line grind.
(Darla moans quite audibly)
...that would be in the end.
Angelus leans back a little, once again taking Darla's hands in his. He removes a glove from her hand and brings the ungloved hand to his lips, keeping his eyes on Darla's glassy gaze.
We can break her. Truly break her. She will be ours.
Ours? Or yours?
I thought so.
She would be a pet, darlin'.
Something to while away the long days with.
An amusing diversion from some of the more...dreary moments.
She'd be only a toy.
Our own little doll.
EXT. UNIQUE ANTIQUES - EVENING
DRUSILLA is swaying from side to side as she gazes up at the "Unique Antiques" sign. She drops her gaze to a display of china dolls in the window of the shop, then leans forward, stopping just short of touching the glass. One doll in particular captures her fancy -
It has brown curls, blue eyes, and a pink silk dress. Kid slippers are on its feet and a parasol is propped beside it.
Oh. You have my boy's eyes.
INT. UNIQUE ANTIQUES RETAIL AREA - EVENING
Michael looks up and sees -
Drusilla at the window.
He walks towards the door.
Hello there. Would you like to come in and
take a closer look at the dolls?
(muffled through glass)
Oh yes, please, sir!
He heads over behind the retail counter and puts his hand briefly under the counter. We hear a soft BUZZ. Then he raises his hand and sketches a symbol in the air. The doorframe GLOWS BRIGHT BLUE for a second. Michael returns to the door. He opens it and holds it for her. The bell on the door softly tinkles. Drusilla slips through, passing Michael. Her face briefly flickers into its VAMPIRE VISAGE and back again. She stops just past the doorway and looks up at the bell.
It's not time to pay you, little St. Stepney.
Do you chop minutes into seconds, too?
Drusilla shakes her finger and giggles before moving into the shop. She drifts through the aisles, looking at the merchandise, reaching out to touch several things, but always drawing back at the last second.
(whispering to herself)
Mustn't touch, don't touch. Naughty girl.
She looks over at Michael, who is once again standing behind the retail counter, eyeing her cautiously.
(in a normal tone of voice)
You break it, you buy it. Should I break you?
She giggles again and turns away from him.
Uh...I would really prefer that you didn't.
Pity, that. I have fairy gold to spend that won't melt
away in the morning sunshine.
Drusilla comes to the doll display. She reaches out and draws her hands back again several times, finally getting the courage up to turn the doll she was looking at around to face her. Her hands raise to bracket the doll's face. The blue china eyes stare vacantly back at her.
Miss Clara. Would you come with me?
There would be tea parties with lace doilies.
Tiny cups with driblets of tea, and cucumber sandwiches.
She stands, swaying, in front of the doll for a second. Then she reaches out, grabs the doll, and THROWS IT ACROSS THE SHOP.
Michael ducks reflexively, even though she threw it nowhere near him. The sound of shattering china tinkles throughout the shop. Michael stands tall, visibly swallowing.
Drusilla bows her head before turning to him. She looks at him through her hair.
I used to have a doll.
Miss Edith traveled everywhere with me.
Then she quarreled with me and ran away.
The train whistle sped her little feet and she ran.
Michael glances down at the counter. Then he kneels slightly, keeping his eyes on Drusilla, and reaches under the counter.
TIGHT LOW SHOT - his hand scrabbles for a WOODEN CROSS sitting on the shelf there.
Drusilla starts to approach him again.
Michael stands quickly, leaving the cross where it is.
So--so...you want...another doll then?
There's plenty besides that one.
He gestures at the little pile of broken doll bits.
Not another Miss Edith, silly. She's gone, gone away.
Just like how my daddy went away.
Do you know how to get him back?
Drusilla walks towards him, one hand playing with a strand of her hair.
My daddy. Flies with no wings.
Doesn't hurt me anymore...not like he used to.
(she pouts briefly)
But he might again one day.
Drusilla smiles in remembrance before walking to the counter and placing both hands on it. She leans over the counter, getting right in Michael's face.
My daddy. My effulgent boy. They are lost to me.
But my daddy is clinging to a spar,
tossed by the slough of despond.
He needs me. And I need him.
Michael steps back, bumping into the cabinet behind him. He stares at her warily.
Drusilla tilts her head to one side.
Or does he need you?
The birds twitter about an emerald moon.
(she eyes him, looking slightly more lucid)
No mind, I'll find him. No nasty magic will call him to me.
She whirls and half-dances, half-walks out of the shop. Michael takes a deep breath and leans on the counter.
I really need to stop trying to make one last sale.
INT. ANGEL'S OFFICE - MONASTERY - EVENING
Angel is still in his office, staring off into space. The bottle of Scotch is empty, pushed to the side of the desk. His empty glass is sitting beside it. He looks morosely at the pile of papers before him. A soft knock comes from the doorway. Angel starts, blearily wiping one hand across his face. He turns to see who's at the door.
Nina slips through the door, pulling it almost shut behind her.
Were you were expecting some other blonde?
Angel gets up and goes to greet her. He guides her to the other chair.
Have a seat.
What are you doing here?
Were we supposed to meet?
We were supposed to meet, weren't we?
Listen this thing came up and....
Nina grabs a hold of Angel's shoulders and shakes him slightly.
Angel. Stop. You're babbling.
No, we didn't have a date. I'm....
She pauses and turns and takes a couple of steps before pivoting back around to face Angel.
As they say, I'm "bringing the mountain to Mohammed."
I came to see you. Thought we should talk.
I've been busy. There was...stuff.
"Stuff"? You've been around three centuries and that's
the best you can do?
Nina sniffs the air a little and pulls back with a grimace.
Have you been drinking?
Angel rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed.
Uh....just a little bit.
I'd say by the smell of it,
it's more than "just a little bit."
So you're not so busy that there's time enough to drink...
(she takes a deep breath through her nose)
Angel turns and drops into a chair, tipping it back pointedly away from Nina.
It's not like I penciled in "drink with Spike."
It just....happened. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
(then, more earnestly)
But before that I was busy.
Angel points to the pile of papers on the table.
(glancing at them)
You're always busy. I know that.
But when you can't even answer your cell phone,
a girl gets a little worried.
What? I haven't set it down once.
It's right here in my....
Angel fumbles in his pocket for his cell. He finally pulls it out and flips it open.
CLOSE-UP on the cell's face - it reads "8 missed calls. Ringer Off."
CUT BACK TO Angel and Nina.
Uh huh. You know I hear setting the ringer to "vibrate"
works pretty well.
Now is not the best time to be fighting about this.
But while we're on the subject, I've called you
a few times and haven't gotten a call back.
(gesturing at the phone)
Some of the call backs are right there!
(rubbing at his face)
I might be a wee bit too drunk to get into this.
Nina sighs. She paces a few steps and turns back to Angel.
Busy. I used to be O.K. with that.
I also used to have a life.
But then that got shot to hell. Literally.
Angel sits forward and points a finger at her.
Again, I didn't mean for this to happen.
I didn't mean for any of it to happen.
But it did.
(she frowns with discomfort)
I don't think this is working anymore.
What's not working?
Nina smiles wanly, leans forward, and places a hand on his shoulder.
Goof. Us, together.
I have to find my sister, which, by the way,
you were supposed to be helping me with.
(she shakes her head)
There's nothing really keeping me here.
(Angel's expression darkens with hurt)
Now is as good a time as any.
So we're not together?
(shaking her head)
Not right now, no.
You're dumping me?
If you're going to put it like that, yes.
I need to do something with myself and
I think you need the time to be...
(she holds her hands out to indicate the room)
I knew this wasn't a forever thing when I got into it.
Nina bends down and kisses Angel on the cheek.
You're a good man. When you're not obsessed with something.
Be safe, Angel. I'll call if I can.
Nina walks to the door. She looks sad, but not devastated. The door shuts quietly behind her. Angel is still sitting in his chair.
I'll set it on vibrate.
He sits for a few seconds, then pushes his chair back, stands up, and walks a little unsteadily to the door. He opens the door and stumbles into the doorframe, banging his funny bone.
(vigorously rubbing his elbow)
Once through the door, he stops and checks the corridors. Finally, making a decision, he starts down the hall.
EXT. REAR LOT OF THE MONASTERY - EVENING
There are two cars sitting there, a Chevy Cavalier and a BMW. Angel, now wearing his coat, exits out of the back door and starts towards the cars.
(muttering to himself)
I'll set it on vibrate?
(he shakes his head in disbelief)
He clumsily gets the door of the Cavalier open and sinks into the driver's seat. He pulls a set of car keys out of his coat pocket and tries them in the ignition. Nothing happens.
He tosses the keys into the back seat, then ducks down so that he can see the underside of the steering column. He squints at the wires that are hanging there. He fumbles for them.
CUT TO a CLOSE-UP - two wires stripped of their insulation. Angel's fingers are firmly on one bare wire. His other hand fumbles for the other bare wire.
PULL BACK to original ANGLE.
Angel brings up the second wire and JUMPS IN HIS SEAT. He DROPS the wires and starts shaking his hands in the air.
He sticks his fingers in his mouth and glares balefully at the wires for a moment.
Let's try that again.
He grabs the wires again, this time further back along their length. He touches the wires together and holds them as the engine CATCHES.
I miss my Viper.
Angel puts the car in gear and backs away from the monastery.
INT. MONASTERY KITCHEN - EVENING
Hobbes is puttering around, putting things away, wiping down counters, and watching a kettle which is very close to boiling.
Over Hobbes' shoulder, we see Spike in the doorway. He's swaying just a little bit.
Hobbes old boy!
Hobbes turns, smiles, and gestures for Spike to come in.
Don't need an invite.
Hobbes rolls his eyes and turns back to the stove.
Live here, too.
Hobbes gets two cups down from the cupboard and pulls a canister filled with tea bags towards him. Meanwhile, Spike wanders over to the table and sits down. He stares off into space. The tea kettle gives a shrill whistle. Hobbes carefully wraps a kitchen towel around the kettle handle and pours water into the mugs. He drops a teabag into each mug and pulls a couple of spoons from a drawer. Hobbes sets a mug and a spoon in front of Spike, who starts a little and mumbles.
Got any little marshmallows? Wait...
that's for cocoa. Ne'mind.
Hobbes sets his own mug and spoon down across the table from Spike. He pulls out a chair and sits down, reaching for the sugar bowl. He spoons some into his tea. Sipping gingerly from his mug, he watches as Spike futzes around with his tea cup.
You'd think after a century and change, I'd've learned
not to try and talk to Angel. Bloody ponce.
Spike fumbles in the pocket of his duster and brings out a flask. He starts to fight with the cap for a minute before Hobbes reaches over the table and plucks it from his hand. Spike frowns at Hobbes for a moment before sighing and going back to his tea.
All right. Tea it is.
Hobbes leans down and puts the flask on the floor.
(off Hobbes' look of curiosity)
There is silence while they stir and sip and stir some more. Hobbes makes eye contact with Spike.
It's just...I have a point sometimes.
I'm not all "Hulk smash" like Angel gets.
Hobbes lifts one eyebrow.
Only room for one thought in that fat head--
(he takes on a mocking childish tone)
"Senior Partners this, Senior Partners that."
(then, in a more normal speaking voice)
Where are they, what are they doing, what might they do next.
Sees them lurking behind everything.
EXT. CITY STREET - EVENING
Angel's Cavalier negotiates rubble-strewn streets, then stops at an intersection.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EVENING
DRIVER'S POV - the right turn signal blinks away. Through the windshield, we see a street sign hanging from a stoplight cable.
There is a FLICKER OF MOVEMENT off to Angel's left.
Angel's head snaps to the left and he looks a little more alert. He gropes inside his coat and brings out a mini-crossbow.
Angel's POV - a FIGURE IN A FILMY WHITE DRESS comes around a corner and disappears into a building.
(with a wrinkled brow)
He shakes his head once and turns the wheel firmly to the right.
No time for this right now. Got to check on Illyria.
(he snorts to himself)
The God-King of the Primordial Ooze, living in a library.
(he stops for a moment)
Or wherever the hell she's living.
EXT. CITY STREET - EVENING
Angel makes the right turn and accelerates.
INT. MONASTERY KITCHEN - EVENING
Spike clutches his mug handle.
He gets so damned fanatical about things.
Ordinary folk would let it go, but not him!
(musing, with a frown)
And what if he stakes Dru?
Yeah, I know. Bad, evil vampires-without-souls
deserve to get staked.
(he frowns deeply at this thought, then leans forward)
O.K., sure she's up to something, just not what he thinks.
Spike gets a faraway look in his eye, looking at a point somewhere past Hobbes.
Hobbes leans into Spike's field of vision.
Oh, well, see, Dru skipped out of L.A. years ago.
(off Hobbes' puzzled look)
Angel got a little careless with flammable liquids.
Anyways, she scoots, after payin' yours truly a lovely visit in Sunnyhell.
Not that the torture and tying up wasn't fun,
but the aftermath was something I could've lived without.
So, she's off doing her own thing, whoever that is.
Now, during all these assorted romps and revels
we've been hosting, she's back. Why?
Spike leans back in his chair and toys with his spoon. Hobbes has nothing to add to this.
Angel's convinced the Senior Partners have got to her.
Maybe they have, maybe they haven't.
She's a logical choice, I 'spose...get the souls out of us
and it's the "Scourge of Europe" for the new millennium.
Except without Darla, prissy bitch.
But there's a problem with that. Best-case scenario,
they only get one of us, and even then, not without a lot of work.
Hobbes gets up from the table and goes over to the stove, moving the kettle back onto a burner and turning the gas on.
Not that the Senior Partners don't have the time,
energy, and money to blow.
(he hits the table lightly)
But it's not their style!
Hobbes turns from the table and looks at Spike, raising one eyebrow.
And you want to know just how I know what their style is?
Spend enough time around hanging about Angel.
He'll give you chapter and verse.
Ad infinitum ad nauseum.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EVENING
Angel's managed to coax the car's tape deck into playing (what else) Manilow. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel about a half-beat behind "Copa Cabana." Having a ball, our Angel is.
He cruises slowly down the street, humming tunelessly.
Just then, off to his right through the windshield, we see a FIGURE wrapped in a long cloak standing on the sidewalk, looking intently at his approaching car.
The figure catches his eye.
His POV - one hand comes out from under the figure's cloak. The person wiggles its fingers mockingly at Angel before disappearing into a dark doorway.
Angel pulls up to the sidewalk quickly, brakes, shoves the car into park, and flings his door open.
EXT. CITY SIDEWALK - EVENING
He runs around the front of the car and over to the darkened doorway. He stops in front of the doorway, one hand outstretched, and feels the empty space in front of him. He steps forward.
CLOSE-UP of his hand touching nothing. He continues to feel around. Still nothing.
His hand falls to his side. Slowly, he turns and heads back to the car. As he does, we hear a faint hint of laughter from the doorway. Angel stiffens before continuing deliberately forward. He gets in the car, firmly shutting the door behind him.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EVENING
He puts the car in drive and continues down the street.
(shaking his head)
That's it. No more drinking.
INT. MONASTERY KITCHEN - EVENING
Spike and Hobbes are still drinking tea.
Just a little splash from the flask? Helps me sort things out.
Hobbes shakes his head, smiling.
Well, all right then. Where were we? Right, Senior Partners
contracting with Dru to do their dirty work. It seems off, somehow.
Dru's too flaky, might decide to change the rules mid-stream.
Hobbes nods his head.
Angel does seem off his rocker a bit, doesn't he?
(Hobbes nods reluctantly)
And who's gonna do something about it if I don't?
Spike buries his head in his hands for a moment, then looks at Hobbes.
And just who elected me to be his keeper?
(with a twinkle in his eye)
There was a vote?
Spike laughs glumly at Hobbes' signing.
All right, then. Suppose I should go try and find
Angel before he buggers it all to hell.
Hold down the fort, mate.
Spike pushes himself back from the table, stands up, and heads for the door. He pauses before going through and looks back at Hobbes.
You'll keep an eye on Fred, yeah?
He goes out the door.
INT. ANGEL'S CAR - EVENING
Angel pulls up at a large, fairly impressive looking LIBRARY BUILDING--columns and steps and everything. He cuts the engine and just sits and stares at it for a minute.
Then, with a frown, he opens the car door, sets a foot out on the ground, leans to get out, and SWAYS SUDDENLY FORWARD, almost losing his balance. His hand reaches for the car door. He rights himself in his seat, raises a hand to his forehead, and blinks.
No more drinking with Spike. Ever.
EXT. REAR OF THE MONASTERY - EVENING
Spike wrenches open the door of the BMW and slides into the seat.
INT. BMW - EVENING
LOW SHOT - he fumbles under the steering wheel. Wires are hanging out in a colorful tangle. He touches the ends of two bare wires together.
EXT. FRONT OF THE BMW - EVENING
ANGLE - looking down the length of the car. We see the trunk lid pop open.
Spike gets out of the car and slams the lid down.
INT. BMW - EVENING
Back in the front seat, he selects a different set of bare wires.
ANGLE - through the windshield. The headlights flash on and off.
Spike fumes, hanging on to his temper by the skin of his teeth. He selects a different stripped wire and touches it to one of the wires he already tried. He is rewarded with a sickly short-lived cough from the engine.
Gone in sixty seconds, my arse.
He touches the two wires together again, this time holding them together as the engine coughs once, twice, and then turns over. He lets go of the wires, puts the car into drive, and pulls out of the lot with a squeal of tires.
If I was Angel, in a car, where would I go?
EXT. ILLYRIA'S LIBRARY - EVENING
Angel stands outside a set of large, ornately carved doors. He raises one hand to knock, then turns away. He pauses for a moment, then turns back and BANGS on the doors once before throwing them open.
INT. LIBRARY - EVENING
ANGLE - looking over Angel's shoulder. We see a lobby with high desks and dusty, broken computers. Debris is scattered over the marble floor, with tracks through the dust leading everywhere.
RESUME OPENING ANGLE - Angel takes a couple steps into the lobby.
Illyria? You here?
Illyria steps out of the shadows on Angel's right.
I am here.
(she wrinkles her nose)
You reek of drink. Why are you here?
Someone needs to keep an eye on you.
You are not my leader.
I am not part of your flock now.
Maybe not. But you're still my responsibility.
I do not require your concern.
Nor will I allow you to keep me on a leash.
She turns and vanishes back into the shadows. Angel stares after her with a skeptical frown.
INT. A CHURCH NAVE - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
SUPER LEGEND: London, 1860
PANNING UP THE MIDDLE AISLE - there are people sitting in the pews, heads bowed, but it is deathly silent.
The PAN continues until we reach the sanctuary. CLOSE-UP on the ground in front of the confessional. There is a slight trickle of blood coming from under the door.
REVERSE ANGLE - the doors of the nave open slightly and a STREET URCHIN pushes his way in. He is dressed in an assortment of rags, with a dirty face and hands. He rubs his hands together, then freezes in place, mouth open and staring in horror.
PULL BACK to reveal ANGELUS standing in front of the boy.
(smiling, in vampire face)
How nice. God has provided me with a snack.
He grabs the boy, lifting him up so he can fasten on his throat.
PAN BACK OVER to the pews again. Over the boy's screams, we move in for a CLOSE-UP of the people in them. They are all DEAD--fang marks in their necks; or their necks simply broken. Dead people sitting.
The boy has stopped screaming. Angelus lowers him slowly, holding him absently by one arm.
Now, where should you go....
Are you the pious sort, boy?
The nave door swings open again. Darla slips through the door and pushes it shut. She looks around the church.
Angelus lets the boy drop to the floor.
Darla, my heart.
You're drunk. Communion wine, Angelus?
Angelus takes one step towards her over the boy's body. He picks her up and twirls her around.
The only thing I've drunk tonight is blood, my sweet.
The fires of creation burn through my veins.
He sets Darla down. She pushes him back a step from her.
Her voice trails off as she looks around the church.
She was here tonight. Seeking counsel from her priest.
Which he gave to her, as is his calling.
He sits down in a pew, smirking.
This will shake her world.
Show her that evil is everywhere,
even in the one place she thought was safe.
What will that do?
It will rip away the veils on her eyes.
Again, I ask, why? Such fuss.
(he smiles up at her)
She's worth the fuss, darlin'. Soon, you'll see that.