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A Church Rectory
Xander is sitting in a small office along with a man
wearing clericals, and the man is shaking his
head.
Father Clemons: I'm sorry, Alexander. I can't help
you--and the quantity is not the problem. I just
can't help unless you give me some idea of what
you're going to do with the stuff. Perhaps if you
would confide in me and divulge your plans, I could
help. Believe me, I WANT to help--I know that you
and your family've been good parishioners. It's just
that, well, I have a certain responsibility--which I
take quite seriously--to ensure that items such as
these won't be desecrated in any way. So if you will
let me know what you are going to do, and can
convince me that what you ask for will be treated
with the utmost respect, I will consider your
request. Otherwise you're SOL. Needless to say,
anything you tell me will be kept in the strictest
confidence.
Xander: No, Father. I can't do that. But that's
all right. I've got a Plan B for that stuff. But,
then, so how about my other request? I don't exactly
have a Plan B for that.
Father Clemons: Certainly, my son, I'll hear your
confession. Let's do it right now.
Cut to the parking lot of Ramona's
Restaurant.
A folding stretcher with Buffy on it is loaded into
the back of an ambulance. She has a contraption
taped around her head and shoulders to immobilize her
neck and prevent any additional spinal cord injury.
Her father Hank gets in behind the stretcher, and
from inside the other attendent pulls the doors
closed, and the ambulance pulls away. Its siren
begins to cry out in the night, for it is dark by
now.
Cut to the Summer's house.
Joyce: More wine.
Giles looks quizzically at his glass which is empty,
and Joyce takes it from him and refills it. She sits
down beside him on the couch and takes off her shoes
and curls her feet under her on the side away from
him which leans her in his direction.
Joyce: I don't know what went wrong, exactly. We
dated in college and then, when he asked me to marry
him, it felt like the most natural thing I could ever
do, so I said yes. And it wasn't as though we
weren't used to each other by then. I mean, we were
. . . (pause) Perhaps an objective, outside observer could have predicted we would drift apart, but it wasn't all that obvious to me. Do you know what I'm trying to say?
Giles: (He is nervous and his eyes dart from her
chest to her eyes.) Well, yes, I think so. M-my
grandmother, who was also a Watcher, once told me,
'Men marry women hoping they'll never
change--p-probably meaning physically. And, of
course, they DO change. And women marry men hoping
they WILL change--p-probably meaning emotionally and
in their general attitudes--and of course they NEVER
do.' And thus goes the battle of the sexes, so to
speak. The battle's very much the same on the other
side of the Pond, you know?
Joyce: (looking at him very closely, studying his
face) Yes, I suspect it is. Sorry, by the way, I
remember today at school that I was especially hard
on you for being British, and I think my reaction was
brought on by that Spike character. You say he's a
vampire? He seemed easygoing enough--friendly
even.
Giles: Yes, well, he can appear that way, but he is,
indeed, a horribly vicious vampire--although
admittedly with charm to burn, I suppose, if you like
that sort. I'm really surprised that Buffy made a
pact with him, even however temporary, because, in
the past Spike is reputed to have personally killed
two Slayers, gleefully, and I know that Buffy KNOWS
that. But perhaps Spike's reputation is not earned,
after all. Perhaps it's just something he made up to
bolster his standing in the vampire community. You
know, I would normally consider your daughter's
actions in enlisting his help foolhardy, but, on the
other hand, we're still here and the world is still
spinning on its axis. So, her judgement, which she
probably gets from you and your ex by the way, is,
once again, infallible.
Joyce: And the Hellmouth's right here in Sunnydale?
Of all the places we could have moved to . . .
Giles: Well, the prophecies had something to say
about that. And the prophecies are endless, although
it's not always easy to separate the truly inspired
prognostication from some pure works of lurid
fiction. And even some of the greatest seers sometime lapse into conjecture.
While they talk the camera moves away from them and
then into the back hallway and is pointed toward the
kitchen. Xander tiptoes down the hallway, pauses,
then mounts the stairs, keeping close to the wall, so
he does not make the floor squeak. At the top of the
stairs, he moves to the left and enters Buffy's room.
He goes right to her desk and opens the large
drawer.
(The screen goes black)
The camera is suddenly in the hall again. It finds
Xander leaving Buffy's bedroom, carrying a sack, and
it backs up allowing him to descend the stairs. The
floor creaks, and he freezes, but the conversation in
the next room is far too loud for either of them to
have heard. Xander stops for a moment and listens to
the the two people talking. A tear forms unbidden in
the corner of his eye and he shakes his head. He
does, however, use his broken-arm hand to halfway
blow a kiss into the next room. Then he moves
silently toward the kitchen and is gone.
Giles: (sipping again at his wine) And so the
latest prophecies are few and far between to cover the period
after the vortex. Believe it or not, not many prophecies go
beyond the vortex because many thought that THAT was
going to be the end of it--for the universe as we
know it. But your daughter, bless her heart,
acquitted herself most admirably, may I say, and I am
probably now, and I will probably forever be considered a genius of a Watcher, for having guided
her mission so assiduously, whereas I didn't even
know what she was up to.
Joyce: (sipping the wine) Oh, yes, Mr. Giles. You
must get the credit. After all, you recognize my
daughter as being rollicking. Was there anything
rollicking in England?
Giles: I don't think so. Not that I remember,
anyway. Rollicking--I was searching for a word to
describe your daughter, whom I cherish, and that word
just seemed so American and so apropos. I have also
cherished my time here in the colonies. I am treated
very well for an ill-at-ease, tweedy Brit. Americans
are just so generous a people.
Joyce: Well, thank you. On behalf of all Americans,
I accept your thanks, if that's what it was, and I
say, 'We love people that love us. It's just that
simple.' (She leans forward and kisses him briefly on
the mouth. He kisses her back but does not initiate.
She pulls back, looks at him, sees he is nervous,
and smiles.) You're quite a pleasant-looking chap,
by American standards.
Giles: Thanks, and you are wonderfully attractive
yourself by, I'm sure, universal, cosmic
standards.
Joyce: Well, then if you don't mind I'm going to
consider this a date. We talked, drank some wine,
kissed, and consider each other attractive enough to
. . . date further.
Giles: Okay. I'll henceforth freely admit that this
was a date, and not just under the duress of
torture.
Joyce: And we cemented Anglo-American relations.
Giles: Always a good thing to do. (A cuckoo clock
goes off in the house. Giles looks at his watch.)
Well, I must be going now. Librarians can't be
caught sleeping in their books.
Joyce: (almost to herself) I've got to let that
clock run down and not wind it again. (To Giles,
cheerfully) Well, but we must do this again.
Giles: Will you wear that dress again?
Joyce: (bursts out laughing) You poor man. You've
had to fight to look me in the eye all night. You
must be exhausted, but I've found your antics quite
entertaining.
Giles: (rising) Yes, well, I may seem uncomfortable
to you, but, then, I've practiced this look of
discomfort over the years, and I've finally perfected
it to a fine art--women are always disarmed by it--so
if you've been taken in, it has worked its charm once
again.
Joyce: (rising also) Completely taken in.
Giles moves to the door. Joyce follows. He turns.
She hands him the videotape and he takes it with his
right hand and then he puts his left arm around her
and she bends her head back and closes her eyes. He
looks at her, smiles, and brings his right hand up
and removes his glasses and then he wraps his right
arm around her and gives her a lingering kiss that he
really gets into and that she will remember. He
feels her knees buckle and he holds her to him.
Gently, then, he releases her and she looks up at
him. He looks deeply into her eyes.
Giles: Yes, you certainly are an attractive woman.
(She smiles and studies his face and eyes without his
glasses. He says nothing, then she becomes the
nervous one, while he seems comfortable holding her
and looking at her. Then he releases her.) Well,
it's been nice. (He goes to the front door and opens
it. He thinks for a few seconds.) Spike was in the
house? This house?
She nods.
Giles: Perhaps I'd better come over tomorrow and
perform the 'Unwelcoming' ritual for him.
Joyce: Come at six and I'll make dinner.
Giles: It sounds like another date. (He places his
glasses back on, then gives her a fast peck on the
lips and he is out the door. Halfway down her walk
he smiles to himself.) Well, tit for tat, so to
speak. (He knows he's talking to himself but doesn't
care.) Isn't she adorable. That guy Summers must be
a real jerk.
Cut to the emergency room at Los Angeles County
Hospital.
Hank looks on anxiously as the doctors work on Buffy
who is still unconscious. The doctors push him out
of the room and he is left looking through the window
as they intubate her and begin monitoring her vital
functions.
Cut to the graveyard at night.
Oz pushes Willow along a path; Claudia follows
looking around behind her. Suddenly a vamp-browed
creature jumps out from behind a headstone and heads
towards them and Claudia does not retreat a step, but
rather she steps into the onrushing vampire and flips
him over her back and down onto the ground. Then in
almost the same fluid motion she pulls out a stake,
drives it home, and the vamp explodes in a cloud of
dust.
Willow: Wow, Claudia. I was just about to say it is
a quiet night, but now I can't. Excellent technique.
That one was out early; it's only 8:15.
Xander, out of nowhere, suddenly pulls up in a car.
He gets out and approaches.
Willow: Xander, I thought you had 'plans?'
Xander: Yeah, my plan was to lie that I had plans.
Of course I also lied to my parents that I would not
take the car. Notice the theme here is lying.
Willow: Well, don't make it a habit and we'll
forgive you.
Oz: Whatever the lady says.
Claudia: Should I be offended? After all, it was ME
you stood up? (She approaches him.)
Xander: No, sorry, Frenchy. Actually, I came to
give you this. (He holds a water pistol out in front
of him.) It's filled with stolen holy water, but I'm
sure my stealing it doesn't hamper its holiness one
iota. Just an American kind of idea, I had--you
know, pack a pistol--to keep you guys safe. You'll
popularize the Ronald Reagan, John Wayne, cowboy,
shoot-from-the-hip brand of vampire hunting. (He
acts like he's drawing a six gun, then he holds it
out again. Claudia almost backs away from the
pistol, so Oz takes it and hands it to Willow.
Willow: Oh, Xander. (She suddenly gets very sad.)
What's going on? (Tears form at the corners of her
eyes.)
Xander: (He looks at Willow, then he looks away.)
Nothing much, really. It's just that I'm going to be
gone for a while, and I really wanted to see you
guys--you, Willow--once again.
Willow: (Tears running) Xander, please. Don't do
anything stupid.
Xander: Me, do something stupid? It simply cannot
be. I laugh in the face of stupidity and say, 'Claim
me not, old friend.'
Willow does not smile. She continues to look upon
him with sadness, her face distorted with her
anguish.
Xander: Anyway, I just wanted to do this . . . (He
goes around to the side of the seated Willow and
bends over and puts his good arm around her and she
reaches up and they hug; he kisses her on the cheek.)
. . . and tell you that I . . . I (he whispers)
treasure you. (he chokes up. She cannot speak.)
Oz looks on silently.
Xander: (pulling away, clearing his throat, then
with false bravado) Take care, people. Oz, thanks
for being you. Claudia (he waves and points at her)
don't take any wooden francs, say 'Hi' to Jerry
Lewis, and how about those Algerians.
He backs away, towards his car, then he waves, and
turns again and looks back at Willow and waves
directly at her and he turns and gets into his car.
He honks and drives away.
Oz: Well, am I the only one who thinks that was
odd?
Willow begins crying openly. Her tears flow freely.
Oz looks down and is confused.
Oz: Will, something I said?
Willow: No. Not you. Xander. He's acting funny.
I know him. He's up to something and I'm afraid he's
going to do something harmful to himself. I just
have this horribly bad feeling about him, like he is
so sad and doesn't ever expect to see me again. and
he doesn't seem to care about himself. I almost have
a promonition that he is going to be hurt, or maybe
die.
Oz: Maybe some of that gypsy woman, the one that
possessed you when you were recursing Angel, is still
inside you, feeding you info. Like fortune teller
stuff.
Willow: Maybe so. It IS a very strong feeling. Or,
but maybe I just know him so well. His moods. His
fears.
Oz looks sad (like he realizes that Willow will always have feelings for Xander and Oz knows he will always compete for Willows affections.)
Oz: Yeah, maybe.
Willow: Oz, come here.
Willow puts her arms up and Oz kneels and wraps
himself around her while she sobs. He kisses her
warm tears.
Willow: Oz, go after him. See what he is up to.
Please. And if he is going to hurt himself, maybe
you can stop him. But don't YOU get hurt.
Oz: But what about . . .
Willow: Claudia can get me back. Can't you,
Claudia? Of course, she can. She's a Slayer. Go,
Oz. Hurry, or maybe you'll lose him. It looks like
he was headed down Randolph Street. Go, please.
Oz looks indecisive for a second, then runs over to
his van and gets in. He starts it, thows it in gear,
and takes off, remembering to put his lights on only
after he's already moving. Willow waves.
Willow: (to Claudia over her shoulder, not turning
to look at her.) Oz'll catch up with him. Xander is
a very deliberate driver. Very predictable. You'd
think he would be impulsive, but no, just the
opposite. He's very controlled. They're both really
nice guys, don't you think?
Claudia: (smiles to herself) Tres beau.
Claudia looks down at Willow and advances, suddenly
gaining speed, and looking fixedly at the back of
Willow's head. Her body morphs, bending, predatory,
and her face becomes hideous with her mouth having
moving parts like an insect. But then, Willow
casually twirls the squirt gun around her finger and
just as suddenly Claudia halts in her tracks and
returns to human form.
Willow: I almost hope we see another vampire so I
can give him a good squirt and see what his reaction
will be.
Cut to Oz's van heading up the street.
Oz gets to a corner and stops, then he inches out
into the intersection, looking both ways.
Oz: Oh, hell. Oh, well, the kid flips a mental coin
and it's . . . tails, so we go left.
He turns left and heads up the street.
Cut to Xander's car.
Xander's car comes to a stop. He gets out and begins
unloading it. He is near a viaduct which can barely
be seen in the dark. Because of his broken arm, he
fumbles with some things. Scuba gear is among the
things he pulls out of his trunk and lays on the
ground. Too much to carry in one trip, he will have
to make multiple trips. There is a culvert that he
enters and his flashlight shows where the space
inside widens. He parks his gear temporarily inside
and goes back for more.
Cut to the hospital in L.A.
A doctor comes through the swinging door and stands
in front of Hank. Hank stands.
Doctor: Her neck and spinal cord were not involved,
thank goodness. But it looks like your daughter has
sustained a serious head injury. Fluid is, even now,
collecting inside her skull and the pressure is
mounting and this pressure will do damage to her
brain unless we can drill a small hole in her skull
and relieve the pressure. If we don't operate,
there's no telling what harm can be done. We usually
have good results with this kind of procedure, but I
AM concerned with her run-down condition. Most of
her vital signs are off, ever so slightly, as though
she has been under an enormous stress. I'd suggest
you plan for a siege. We'll need you to sign a
consent form. If you want to let others know,
there's a phone in my office you can use.
Cut to inside the Master's lair.
Xander has lit some of the candles that fill the
place, and also he has placed large battery-powered
lights to illuminate his preparations in the
cave-like space. He has items arranged in a
semi-circle surrounding the water, the raised pond
near the center of the room. That's where he has
placed the scuba tank. He removes his sweatshirt and
sweatpants to reveal that he has a rubberized wet
suit on underneath. He unzips the suit down the
front and peel it back from his right side and
examines his casted right arm on which he had taped a
plastic bag to try to make it watertight. He nods to
himself, satisfied. He dips his hand in the water
and cries out, "Eye-ee. Cold. Damn."
Xander goes through his watertight containers. He
has a checklist that he refers to. At various times
he pulls out a cross, squirt guns, items of clothing,
and a first aid kit. Satisfied, he shrugs. He zips
his suit back up and locates his swim mask and
frogfeet. But then he hears a noise and stops. He
looks around at all the dark shadows.
Xander: Who's there?
Cut to inside Sunnydale High School.
Snyder is behind a schoolroom full of grown-ups at
student desks. He yawns as he watches a man at the
blackboard explaining the new faculty rules; the man
is droning on about lunch period.
Snyder: (announcing loudly so that all turn at the
sound of his voice) Let's wrap it up. Mr. Trumball,
don't forget to mention the problems we've been
having with absentee hall monitors and also the
problem with those clubs that meet after normal
school hours--how students sometimes roam the school
after those clubs let out.
Snyder looks uncomfortable and he looks down at a
vibrating beeper that has gone off. He backs out of
the school room and opens a cell phone. At that same
time, a boy and girl run past him in the halls.
Snyder: (shouting) You, Tommy Boyd, isn't it? (the
boy stops and nods; the girl stops and hesitates,
looking guilty) Why are you kids running in the
halls? Is the chess club just getting out? This is
very late.
Tommy Boyd: Yeah, it's just over.
Snyder: Well, get out of the school and get home or
I'll have your mother and father on the phone.
Tommy: (very seriously) Yes, sir. (He looks at the
girl and they both begin snickering.)
Snyder motions for them to be gone. He shakes his
head and sighs. Back to his phone, he pushes a
button.
Snyder: Snyder. (pause) What? (pause) Hoo Boy!
Fantastic! Well, okay, I say we finish her off,
then, while she's this vulnerable. (pause) Well,
who's available? (pause) Hell, can't you beep
somebody? (pause) Oh, damn. Not Larry, Moe, and
Curly. Have you tried . . . (pause) Okay, okay. If
that's all that's available, yes, I'll issue the
directive, Have the Order of Taraka--the reassembled
order now--all three of them or it's no go--kill the
Slayer where she lies in the hospital in Los Angeles.
But have them limit their operation to Los Angeles
County; we don't want them bringing any fight back
here. (pause) Well, yes, we were going to try to
nudge her off center stage, to the side, but the more
I think about it the more I've come to the conclusion
that this One has just too many friends. And she
doesn't just concentrate on vampires--sticks her
little button nose into too many other areas. We can
only hope that her replacement with be another dull
loner like the previous one and will stick to just
methodically staking vampires. Besides, I can't wait
till I can finally get rid of Mr. Giles. He may be
an adequate Watcher but he's totally worthless as a
librarian--no one reads here anymore--he practically
chases them out of the place. (pause) I don't know.
Seems a shame because she's so cute, but if it were
me, I'd just cut her head off, take it a mile, and
throw it in a Dumpster. But that's just how I would
do it.
Cut to the Master's lair.
Oz: (stepping out of the shadows) Oz.
Xander: Oh, hey, Oz. But, Bye, Oz, you'll have to
leave.
Oz: But Willow sent me to stop you from hurting
yourself.
Xander: It's too late.
Oz: No, it's not.
Xander: Yeah, it is.
Oz: But you don't have any idea of what you'll find
where you are going.
Xander: So what?
Oz: Xander, this is suicidal.
Xander: Beg to differ, as our friend Ted might have
said. No, it's not suicidal. You see, I've
made certain it's anything but. I've
prepared for this the best I can. I've got the best
equipment. Rented, haha--but it is the best. Oz,
just so you'll fully understand. I need to make up
for something I've done. I've done a horrible thing.
I neglected . . . forgot . . . okay, I lied to Buffy
and let her send Angel to hell, just so I could have
another shot at her myself. But now I realize that
she could never love anyone like me. Why should she?
I'm clearly not worth it. I can see that now. But,
here, my quest is honorable, and I will certainly do
my best--always do. So, if--if--I should die in the
attempt, it will not be suicide. You have to
understand, according to my religion I cannot commit
suicide and go to heaven; suicide would cause me to
stay in hell. Therefore I wouldn't even think of it.
If I die trying this, however, I will go to heaven.
I believe that. Case closed.
Oz: Don't get me wrong: I respect your religion.
But what about your parents?
Xander: My parents have a funny attitude toward me.
They try to hide it but it's always there. It's like
I became tainted when I was a child and they still
see me that way. They'll actually be relieved when
I'm gone.
Oz: Well, what about Cordy?
Xander: Cordy will get over this. We're ultimately
not going to make it as a couple because I don't have
any money. She has some very good qualities--no
cooties on that girl--but she's barely a real
person--yet. At the very least this might help her
grow up. I'll miss her, though. She's fun and she's
learning to laugh at herself. And that body!
Oz: And Willow? Willow doesn't love me. She loves
you. (He said this last almost as an accusation and
sounded deeply hurt.)
Xander: Don't you think I know that? I know she
loves me. Of all the things I leave behind, Willow
is the absolute-without-a-doubt best person I'll ever
get to know, and I'll miss her. When I was a child,
I . . . ah . . . forgot how to talk for a while and
it was Willow that coaxed me to talk to her and got
me over that. I love her in every way possible
except for the one way she thinks she wants the most,
and I'm afraid I will never love her that way--she's
too much a part of me. It would be like--did you see
the first episode of Dawson's Creek?--it would
be like my walking the dog. Do you know what I mean?
I wish I could dredge up those kinds of feelings for
her, or even explain myself to her--I've tried but it
was lame and she started to fall apart so I quit. I
just love her madly as a sister and as a sweet
friend. She's simply the best. You're wrong,
though. She does love you. So do I . . . I love how
you've made her shine. You're a lucky guy. I wish I
were you and not me. Believe that.
Xander begins looking around him for things. He
moves two waterproof bags to the lip of the pond.
Xander: Now, if you don't mind I want to get going.
No telling how much trouble Angel's gotten himself
into that he needs me to bail him out of.
Oz: Xander (Oz sounds confrontational, like he is
trying to summon the wherewithal to physically
restrain Xander) you can't do this.
Xander: Well, don't try stopping me. You'll just
smash you guitar-picking fingers on my hard head.
And then I'll have to hit you with my cast, and I'll
probably break it, and then I'll really get pissed,
and I'll really kick your ass, but I'll probably hurt
myself in the process, and, since, I'll still be
going, I won't be in as good a shape at that point,
so I'll have an even worse chance then, than a goofy,
skinny, Roman Catholic, white kid with a broken arm
would have had in the first place. So, please just
wish me luck.
Oz: (considers this) Okay, I see your point. Good
luck, Xander. I love you, too. I get jealous, but .
. . (Oz just runs out of words.)
Xander: Yeah, I know. See you around.
Oz: Can I help? Surely, there's something I can
do.
Xander: No, I'll just keep thinking you're going to
try something and I don't need to be distracted.
Just tell everyone--tell Buffy--I'm sorry I was such
a creep. Now, go. If I can't make it anywhere, if
this water doesn't lead to somewhere, I'll just give
it up and quit and come back. Maybe you'll see me
tomorrow and we'll laugh about this. And, oh yeah,
(rubbing his left hand) if I disappear for any length
of time tell Willow to remember the Coneheads.
Oz: (backing out of the light) The Coneheads.
Xander: And, Oz?
Oz: (stepping back into the light) Yeah?
Xander: Don't call me Shirley.
Oz: (puzzled, then he understands) Oh, yeah, right.
(He points at Xander and leaves).
Xander sits on a bag and puts on his frogfeet. Then
he puts on the scuba tank, and he reaches behind his
neck and fits the wet suit head covering up over his
hair. He dips the mask in the water and places it on
his face. Then he inserts the breathing tube into
his mouth and tries it out. Satisfied, he goes over
and grabs a light and a torpedo-looking object; the
two waterproof bags are on a tether and he fastens
the cord to his waist. Standing at the edge of the
water, he hesitates, then he makes the sign of the
cross and jumps out into the water. The two bags are
pulled in behind him.
Underwater, he falls to the bottom. His light is on
and he shines it around him and looks back up. His
breathing is even. He notices that the cavern only
goes off in the one direction. Switching his light
to his broken arm, he places the torpedo in his good,
left hand. Then he launches himself off the bottom
and activates the torpedo, which is a propulsion
device with a propeller and it pulls him through the
water and the bags trail behind. The propulsion
device has a handgrip on it which allows him to
operate it with his thumb. He also can alter his
direction by kicking his legs.
After a few minutes, he passes through a ripple in
the water, and all of a sudden ahead of him the water
in his light is reddish in color. Also, his
propulsion device stops working and his forward
momentum ceases; he begins to sink. He shakes the
propulsion device and bangs it on the rocks when he
reaches the bottom, trying to restart it, but nothing
happens. Finally, he drops it. There is a certain
panic developing in his eyes and he turns around and
launches himself in the opposite direction, the
direction he came from, but he doesn't get very far
when he runs into a wall of thick water, like an
enormous piece of glass in the water. When he
realizes he can't get back, he coughs out a large
bubble gasp of fear and he begins choking. His eyes
dart wildly, but then he calms down and regains
control over his breathing and he turns back around.
Launching himself back off the bottom, he kicks his
legs and uses his left arm and moves through the
water farther into the cavern and he shines the light
out ahead of him.
Cut to Oz who is on the road in his van.
He hears a honk and looks in his side mirror and
pulls over. A car passes him and then he backs up
around half a block. Two guys are sitting on folding
chairs in the dark in front of a kid's lemonade
stand, sipping from glasses.
Oz: Make any money today, Chad?
Chad: Very funny. This is my little brother's
establishment, and I have to hand it to him, his
vintage is excellent. We bought him out, in fact.
Where you been? Can we get some practice in yet
tonight?
Oz: Sure . . . certainly. I've got Rosey in the
back. I've just got to swing by my girl's house
first and tell her something. I'll be right
back.
Cut to Angel in hell in the Phone Room.
Angel enters through the door and is in an 18' X 54'
room; its floor is covered with phones, of all shapes
and sizes. A well-groomed lady dressed in a navy
skirt and white silk blouse stands at the other end;
she nods to him. Angel has to stop short and steady
himself to avoid stepping on any of the phones. He
has torn off a sleeve of his shirt to use as a
doorknob holder and it protrudes jauntily from his
pocket. One of the phone rings and the woman
hesitates and is pierced with pain; she scrambles
forward, getting down on the ground and crawling
forward, knocking receivers off hooks and scattering
them in all directions, and she answers first one,
then the next, then the next. But a phone continues
to ring. Pain buckles her at her midsection and she
goes scuttling through another bank of phones
searching for the one ringing. Finally, she picks
the right one and the ringing stops. She listens at
the earpiece, expectantly. Then, disappointed, she
hangs it up. Angel watches, fascinated, despite his
own cycles of pain. The lady retraces her steps
replacing all the phone receivers on their cradles
and is busy doing this, when another phone rings.
Another scramble ensues in which she sprawls forward
and picks up half a dozen phones while one keeps
ringing. Finally she picks up a phone and the
ringing stops. She listens again, but it's obvious
this time that she is listening to someone, as
various expressions form on her face. Finally, she
looks over at Angel with a mad, crazed look.
Phone lady: It's for you.
Angel: No, ma'am. It couldn't be.
Phone lady: Angelus?
Angel is stunned and while he's trying to make some
sense of this, she walks over and hands him the
phone.
Angel: Yello. (trying to sound bored and hiding his
dismay)
Split screen with Darla.
Darla: (acknowledges his attempt to sound casual by
nodding admiringly) Hello, Lover Boy. I heard you
were down here. Stay right where you are, I'll come
get you, and it will definitely be a reunion worth
waiting for--pay back time, so to speak. Or, go
ahead, and leave, but you'll just have to keep
looking over your shoulder. I'll run you down.
Angel: (with swagger in his voice) We'll see. Just
prepare to take as much as you give.
Darla: Sounds like our lovelife, sweetheart. But,
no, you won't be dishing ANYTHING out. See, I'll be
controlling your pain. I've become a favorite down
here--one of my talents--and the application of pain
is one of my perks. I've got my finger on the button
right now. HERE, FEEL THIS.
Angel suddenly doubles over with pain.
Angel: (hiding his pain) Yeah? What, already?
Ready when you are. I'm waiting. Oh, sorry, gotta
go. (He pushes the disconnect button and at the same
time drops to the floor in pain and he knocks several
phones askew. Fighting through the pain, though, he
hands the phone back to the lady.) Thanks. Sorry
(indicating the mess he has made, and, clutching at
his stomach, he leaves through the far door as
another phone rings behind him.)
Cut to underwater.
Xander reaches a wall. He kicks his legs and rises
toward the surface. He looks above him for rock but
sees only water and then suddenly he breaks the
surface and finds himself in a dark lagoon inside a
cave. There is some ambient light but its source is
not apparent. He looks around and then paddles toward
the widest end of the cave and finds footing and
trudges the rest of the way out of the water and onto
a rock shelf where he hauls the bags out behind him.
Carved into the rock at the wall in front of him is a
tunnel entrance. He goes over and shines his light
above the entrance and, scratched into the rock, are
the familiar words, "Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter
Here." Xander stares at the words, transfixed for an
instant.
He returns to his bags and opens one and withdraws a
towel and begins drying off. He begins removing his
wet suit and he spreads the top on the rocks to
dry.
Cut to the cemetery.
Willow is twirling the pistol on her finger and it
goes flying off and away.
Willow: Ooops. (laughing at herself. To Claudia,
over her shoulder, not looking back) Claudia, could
you get that for me?
Claudia approaches Willow from the back. Claudia's
body again morphs into a bending, predatory creature,
and her face changes. She reaches the back of
Willow's chair and bends towards her.
Cut to the lagoon.
After he is dry, Xander pull a dry wet suit out of a
bag and puts it on under his sweats. He also puts on
dark tennis shoes and a shoulder holster and a dark
jacket and a dark watch cap. Finally he puts on a
belt and then he puts on another belt. Over his bad
shoulder he slings a knapsack.
After filling the jacket pockets with water pistols,
he then puts one into the shoulder holster and
practices a quick draw and says, "Are you talking to
me?"
Finally ready, he approaches the tunnel entrance. He
listens. Nothing. A water pistol in his left hand,
a flashlight in his right, he springs into the
entrance to the tunnel and thrusts his flashlight and
pistol out in front of him, first one way, then the
other. Nothing.
There are two rock-encrusted corridors leading from
the entrance, with a door on either end. He puts the
flashlight on the ground and spins it.
Xander: Let's see. Who do I kiss? (It points down
the left corridor.)
Suddenly, Xander senses a change in the atmosphere
and he can feel a vibration affecting the air, like
an oppressive humidity, and then it turns audible and
the sound wells up and is finally identifiable as a
laugh--no, unmistakably it is a giggle--and it begins
to seep into Xander's consciousness and then it
progressively gets louder and louder until it seems
to reverberate off the walls.
Giggling Voice: Why, Alexander, you kiss me, of
course. You kiss Giggles. You remember your old
buddy Giggles, don't you? Giggles the Clown? (The
giggling erupts again and echoes through the
corridor.)
Xander gets a wild-eyed look of panic on his face and
he turns and flees, heading toward the lagoon, but he
runs smack into another transparent wall, this one
trapping him just inside the tunnel entrance, and he
drops the flashlight. He can see the lagoon; he just
cannot get to it. Regaining the light, he squirts
holy water on the open area that is trapping him and
he tries to force his way through what is evidently
some kind of force field, and at various times he
gets his good left arm partway through, but then he
gets caught and has to squirt his arm loose by
directing the spray around his imprisoned arm and
pulling it free. But, further progress seems
hopeless because he ends up having to squirt
ineffectively, with the water pistol held weakly in
his broken arm. Finally, exhausted from his
exertions, he sinks to the ground and looks around
himself, terrified, as the raspy giggling of the
clown intensifies and continues to fill the
corridor.
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