Scene 5
Minutes later. Miranda is in the back seat, her back against the side window and her legs stretched out along the length of the seat—Spike is sitting by the other window and her feet are on his lap. Angel and Gunn get in the front seat and they drive off. [Writer’s note: for some reason, in my mind, it takes them a long time to get back to the hotel—don’t have a reasonable explanation for that. Could there be traffic from a concert or a sporting event of some kind? Yeah, that sounds reasonable. The mood of the ride in the car is such that Miranda and Spike talk as if no one else is in the car—she’s a bit delirious and they have this banter, kind of like two teenagers in the back of their parent’s car.]
Miranda: [to Spike] “You’re not going to get all funny again, like before?”
Spike: “Funny?”
Miranda: “You know. About the whole archangel business.”
Spike: “I can honestly say, that is the last thing on my mind right about now.”
He looks very uncomfortable, what with his hands cuffed behind his back and all.
Miranda: “’Cause personally, I find it all very poetic.”
This elicits a curt exhale and eye roll from Angel—goes unnoticed by all but Gunn.
Spike: “You’re not going to be all ‘godfearing’ suddenly, are you? I won’t have you going to church or hiding the alcohol or anything.”
Miranda: “Goodness, no. I’m obviously a fallen angel. Might as well continue to play the part.”
[pause]
Spike: [remembering something—laughing] “Speaking of falling, do you remember that guy in Kazakstan—the one who sold you the cherub painting?”
Miranda: “Boris?”
Spike: “No, the vampire. What was his name?”
Miranda: “Oh, right. Sergei. That was Uzbakistan, wasn’t it?”
Spike: “Fuck if I know. Too many bloody ‘stans nowadays if you ask me. It wasn’t Romania, was it?”
Miranda: “Don’t think so. There was a Vladimir in Romania, but he sold us the dagger.”
Spike: “Right. Vladimir—was he the one with the monkey?”
Miranda: “Yeah. Vlad was a bit odd, wasn’t he? Kept trying to sell me those dreadful earrings made of fossilized dung.”
Spike: “But Sergei was the one who had that amazing pratfall off the bridge—looked like a bloody staged skit, it was so perfect. Can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.”
Miranda: “Sergei was the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
Spike: “He was a bit of a fawner, wasn’t he? Don’t remember making him, but he obviously remembered me.”
Miranda: “Forget the making—he was SO hot for you.”
Spike: “Come on, he just admired me. Wanted to be like me, is all. Perfectly natural.”
Miranda: “Wanted to bugger you, more like.”
Spike: “Will you stop it?”
Miranda: “Did you really think there was a Romanian drinking custom requiring men to take their shirts off before sharing a bottle of cognac?”
Spike: [seriously clarifying] “It’s only if you’re drinking in the distillery. [Miranda shakes her head. He shrugs]. Somehow it didn’t sound so ridiculous after a bottle and a half of vodka.”
Miranda: “If he weren’t so creepy, I’d have suggested a threesome.”
Spike: [disgusted] “Like that would ever happen.”
Miranda: “Oh, so you’re happy to have Lauryn share our bed, but not another man?”
Spike: [duh] “Uh, yeah. Besides, I wouldn’t trust another vampire in the mix—we wouldn’t want a repeat of the Drac incident.”
Interrupting—he [Angel] can’t take the banter anymore.
Angel: [v. uncomfortable] “Do you think you could keep it down?”
Miranda: [giggling] “Sorry, dad. [but she can’t help continuing on—in just a slightly lowered voice] “That was an entirely different thing.”
Spike: “I’m just saying, vampires get ideas.”
Gunn: [mildly interested, turns around] That wouldn’t be ‘Drac’ short for ‘Drac-ula’?”
Miranda: “He’s got the most amazing collection of antiques and has no idea what they’re actually worth. Thought we could get in, get a few bargains and get out—guy with a lifestyle like that has got to need cash.”
Gunn: “You’re kidding, right? [Spike just raises his eyebrows as if to say “what’s the big deal?”. Gunn looks impressed] No shit. Huh. What went wrong?”
Miranda: “He saw some things he probably shouldn’t have and was rather curious about our relationship. It’s a rather long story.”
Spike: “He got an idea.”
Miranda: “Got it in his head that it might be fun to attempt to add an Immortal to his collection of vampire hoochies.”
Gunn: “I always wondered about that—what would happen? I mean vampires are technically dead and you can’t die, so....??”
Miranda and Spike exchange a suspiciously knowing look. They respond in unison.
Miranda&Spike: “It wouldn’t be pretty.”
[Writer’s note: there is a story here—As of this moment, I haven't written it down yet. It's probably an 'episode' length piece that pretty much addresses Gunn's question. If you have an interest in reading it, drop me a quick line. I'm much more likely to transcribe it if I know there's someone out there interested in reading it :)].
Angel: [interrupting—intentionally] “Gunn, can you have a look at the map and see if there’s anyway around this traffic?”
Gunn: “Sure, man. I’ll get right on it. But need I remind you that this is L.A.?”
Miranda: [to Spike]: “How do you feel about New York?”
Spike: “Nice town. Good memories. Why?”
Miranda: "I think I might have an option on a house outside the city—some old gypsy woman if I remember.”
Spike: “Gypsies don’t live in houses.”
Miranda: “Neither do vampires, but there you go. Besides, it’s in Sleepy Hollow—draws in the misfits for sure. Hear they do a fantastic Halloween.”
Spike: [frowning] “It’s bloody cold in New York.”
Miranda: “Well we wouldn’t be living in a crypt now, would we? We’d have heat. Besides, I don’t know what else I’ve got and I’d say odds are pretty good that little-miss-stick-up-her-arse isn’t going to be very pleased with your newfound freedom.”
Spike just frowns at the thought.
They ride in silence for a few minutes while Gunn looks at the map. Miranda lets out a quiet groan and her eyes start to flutter.
Spike: “You alright, love?”
Miranda: [sleepily] “hm. Is it raining? I think my hair’s getting wet. Could you roll up the window?”
The window is already rolled up all the way. Spike looks concerned. Miranda moves her head slightly away from the window and you can see a big blood mark.
Spike: “Stop the car.”
Angel: “What?”
Spike: “Stop the car. Miranda’s hurt. [clarifying) Someplace new.”
Gunn: “We’re kind of already stopped. [traffic] Let me take a look.”
He leans over the seat and puts his hand behind Miranda’s head.
Gunn: “Looks like you cracked your head good.”
Spike: “Must’ve been when she fell before.”
Gunn: [sensing Spike’s concern] “What’s the big deal? S’not like she’s in the best shape everywhere else.”
Spike: “Her head’s different. Takes longer to heal. Do you have anything to bandage it up?”
He finds a bit of cloth and holds it to the back of her head and then positions her head so she’s leaning on it.
Gunn: “That’s all I got for the time being. Anything more will have to wait ‘till we get back.”
Angel: [frowning; concerned, he peers in the rearview mirror. To Miranda] “You OK?”
Miranda: [looking a bit less lively] “I’m tired. Everything’s starting to hurt.”
Angel: “Hang in there. We’ll be back soon. Hopefully.”
Gunn: “Why don’t you just give in to it? Take a little rest. By the time you come back, we’ll have you drugged up and tucked in.”
Miranda: [frowning, looking scared.] “No. [concerned look towards Spike] I...don’t want to. [pause. a small smile] But I suppose ‘death by Lucifer’ would sure spruce up the list a bit.”
Gunn: “Would go a long way towards balancing out the kitchen counter incident at number 6.”
[Writer’s note: I would do a flashback here, but I don’t want to take the time. In summary, one time, back when Miranda was with Angel, Gunn was badly injured. They were trying to keep him conscious in the van until they could get him to a hospital. He’d always been curious about the ‘deaths’ Miranda had experienced, and so she started telling him about each one as a way to keep him awake. There were fourteen in total, which she insisted wasn’t bad considering she was over 140 years old—that’s about one a decade. Of course, the last 3 had occurred in the past year—First Buffy and then Dru and Dru again. She was angry about Dru, because she’d always been able to say “no one ever kills me twice.” It just doesn’t sound the same to say “no one ever kills me three times.” This was also the first time Angel learned that Spike was actually death #1 on her list. She tells Gunn about a particularly memorable death, which I will have to save for another day….]
Miranda: [weak] “Nah. Don’t want to miss anything.” [turning to Spike]
Spike frowns. Gunn, now looking more concerned, is obviously scanning his brain to think of something to say to keep Miranda interested.
Gunn: “So, uh, have you made any changes to the estrogen dream-team?”
Miranda: [still sleepy, she frowns] “Just ‘dream-team’. Please. Would be silly to have men on the dream-team.”
Gunn: “Thought you might consider the girlie from Alias—have you seen it? She’s alright.”
Miranda: “hmph. She’s Ok. Dimples not very intimidating and she’s kind of wiry.”
Gunn: [mainly trying to annoy her] “She looks fine in a mini-skirt, though.”
Miranda: [frowning] “She’s smart—I’ll give her that. But she’s too nice. And who would she replace anyway? There can’t be more than five.”
Gunn: “Why not the other spy chicka?”
Spike: [interrupting—he’s kind of annoyed to not be in the loop on this one.] “What’s all this?”
Angel: [overly anxious to advertise the fact that he knows something Spike doesn’t] “They make lists.”
Spike: “We talking crime or do-gooders here?”
Miranda: “Either. I think they could bloody well do whatever they wanted.”
Spike: “Who’s on it, then?”
Miranda: “Nikita, Xena, Dax, Miss Parker and...[frowns] Huh. I can’t remember the fifth one. My mind must be going. Let’s see. Nikita’s got the guns and the stealth; Xena’s got the sword and muscle; Dax has the wisdom of multiple lives, and she can fight with those cool Klingon weapon thingys and Miss Parker is simply mean-as-shit—she’s the front-man. What am I missing...??”
Gunn: [to Miranda] “So what do you think?”
Miranda: “I’m not giving up Nikita. You’ve got to have a blonde. Guys are suckers for blondes. Isn’t that right, boys? [pause. In a softer voice] Why can’t I remember the fifth one? So annoying...” [deepening frown—heavy eyelids]
Gunn: [seeing that they’re losing her again] “Uh, we can figure it out—fill the slot to make five. Suggestions? You already heard my nomination.”
Angel: “Wonder Woman.”
Miranda: [disgusted] “ech. No one on the dream-team fights in a bathing suit.”
Spike: [skeptical] “But metal bras are O.K.?”
Miranda: “Metal bras protect things. But more importantly, there are restrictions. Gunn?”
Gunn: “No real people, no super-powers, no magic weapons and no genetic enhancement of any kind. Got burned when I tried to nominate Max from Dark Angel.”
Miranda: [adds, petulantly] “No petite girls with neotenous features.”
Gunn: “Cat woman.”
Spike: “Wouldn’t that fall in the special powers category?”
Miranda: “Ambiguous. But I have issues with Cat Woman anyway. Besides, isn’t there a rule against animal hybrids?”
Spike: “What about the soldier girl from that sci-fi show you started watching. The one with the big gun.”
Miranda: [eyes lighting up a bit] “She’s perfect. Oh, but we can’t have two aliens, so she’ll have to sub in for Dax. Wisdom’s over-rated anyway.”
Gunn: “What’s her deal?”
Miranda: “She’s an ex-soldier from this nasty intergalactic army or somesuch. She’s hard as a rock—a real down to business type. Officer Sun. Turned in her lover once to get a promotion—that’s ambition. LOVE her. [giggling at something] She’d be bloody perfect for you, Angel. Very focused—all angst and frowning—no messing about with fun and the like. Perfect.”
Spike: [Can’t help but smile, he offers placatorally] “She’s cute. Nice ass.”
Gunn: [sensing the tension in the front seat] “Looks like we got our five.”
Miranda: [losing steam again.] “No. We’re back where we started—can’t have two aliens.”
Gunn: “Sure you can.”
Miranda: “But Xena’s dead.”
Spike: “Oh, here we go.”
Gunn: “It’s a hypothetical list—death doesn’t matter.”
Miranda: [in a quieter voice, almost to herself] “I don’t like that she’s dead. I don’t like that she had to die. She could still make up for it all—what she’d done.” [She’s obviously upset by this.]
Spike: “We don’t even know if the bird had it right—said she didn’t remember it well.”
Angel: [understanding] “She’s supposed to be mortal, right? There’s not so much time. For...reparation.”
Miranda: “Are we almost there? I’m cold.”
Gunn: “We’re getting there. Here, take my jacket.”
He pulls it off and lays it across her chest. A few minutes pass in silence.
Spike: [softly, to Miranda] “We’ll get some whiskey in you when we get back—warm you right up.”
Miranda: [completely out of the blue] “I think I’d be jealous if you bit other people.”
Spike: “Now is probably not the best time to have this conversation.”
Miranda: “I think you should only bite men.”
Spike: [whispering, though it’s silly with Angel in the front seat] “It was your idea for me to bite Lauryn.”
Miranda: [sarcasm] “And that worked out SO well. Or didn’t you catch the enormous anvils of jealousy I was dropping, because I thought I was being ridiculously obvious.”
Angel: [interjecting—he can’t restrain himself.] “Hm. Jealousy. So it’s not the killing people part of it that bothers you. [frowning into the rearview mirror] That’s great.”
Miranda just frowns at his words, but then is obviously thinking about it. She doesn’t say anything. Spike sees her reaction. The rest of the car ride is quiet.
**
They arrive at the hotel (finally) and take Miranda in and lay her on a couch. Angel and the others roughly tie Spike to a chair in the same room, but nearer to Miranda’s feet. Miranda is looking pretty awful. Duncan and Angel are both in the room.
Duncan: [to Miranda] “You’re not looking so hot—think your leg might swell right through those pants. We should take them off and have a closer look.” [He moves to unbutton her pants.]
Angel: “I’ll get a blanket.”
Miranda: “Hang on a minute.”
Duncan: “Not the time to be bashful, kid. I think we can all handle seeing you in your underwear—we’re adults, remember?”
Miranda: “Yeah, uh, the thing is, I’m not actually wearing any knickers. [Guilty smile and glance over to Spike.] Seemed a good idea at the time.”
Spike: [interjecting] “It’s always a good idea, love.”
Slightly uncomfortable glances between Duncan and Angel.
Duncan: “Oh. Well, maybe we can just cut off the one leg. You got scissors handy?”
Angel: “Yeah. Be right back.”
He leaves, comes back and they delicately cut the seam of her pant leg, revealing her rather gross looking leg. It’s purple and swollen and twice it’s normal size at least.
Duncan: “That doesn’t look good. Between that and her head, I think she needs a doctor. There’s a guy—an Immortal, who does this sort of thing. I’ll see if I can track him down.”
Angel: “You think it’s not going to heal?”
Duncan: [shrugging] “Don’t know. Should do, but these are unusual circumstances. At the least, he should help speed the process.”
Spike: “She should have some hefty pain killers, too.”
Duncan nods and heads off to get the doctor. Cordelia goes with him. Angel leaves the room to talk things over with Gunn and Wesley.
Miranda: [looking ghostly. In a rather frightened voice.] “I don’t want to be here. I wish we hadn’t come. [pause] I feel sick.”
Spike: “You’re just coming down off the adrenaline, pet. Piece of advice—you might want to consider changing your fighting style on the off chance that you might not win or lose. Hold back a bit or something.”
Miranda: “But I did lose. What if it’s just delayed.”
Spike: “Yeah, but you still have your head, right? That’s all that matters.”
Miranda: “He killed the others without taking their heads.”
Spike: [Considering—this mildly freaks him out, but he quickly covers] “If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve just done it there and then.”
Miranda: “Maybe. Or maybe he thought it would be sadistic fun to drag it out.”
Spike: “You’re being silly. You’ll be fine. It’s just the adrenaline, is all.”
Miranda: “In case not, there’s something I want to tell you.”
Spike: “Don’t even start with the melodrama—I won’t stand for it.” [He’ll have no “death-bed” type confessions.]
Miranda: “But...”
Spike: “No. Now shut your gob and have a little nap or something ‘till the doctor gets here.”
Gunn comes into the room and brings a glass of water and some pills.
Gunn: “This’ll have to do ‘till the doctor gets here. Should take the edge off.”
Gunn helps her take the pills; She winces in pain with the movement. Gunn gets up to go.
Spike: “Don’t I get any?”
Gunn just shakes his head on his way out.
Miranda: “You going to be alright if I sleep? I’m worried about him [meaning Angel] I don’t trust him with you.”
Spike: “I’ve spent more time than I’d care to admit tied to a chair the past couple of years and so far, none of ‘em have ever seriously tried to stake me where I sit. Sure he hates me, but he’s also got a thing up his arse about fair fights and the like. He’s not the stake-to-the-back sort. Go on and rest up. We’ve got things to do later, remember?”
Miranda tries a slight half smile. A few minutes pass in silence. Miranda is obviously thinking about something and frowning.
Miranda: “Listen, William. The pills are starting to kick in and I’ll be out in a little while. I need to ask you something. It’s very important and if you answer too quickly, I’ll be very cross because it’s something you need to think about.”
Spike: [looking uncomfortable, he shakes his head] “Not this again, love. I...”
Miranda: [mustering all the energy she has] “It’s you’re turn to shut your gob and listen. This is important. [pause while she takes a breath and collects her thoughts] I’m starting to remember—to understand again. [he nods] I don’t want to run anymore. I can’t live that life. I’m tired. I need to know if this is something you want. Now that you have the option—now that you can legitimately choose, I need to know if you want your old life back or if you could be happy without it. [She pauses to look at him a moment—looking for an indication that he understands what she’s saying. He does.] Regardless, I’ll do everything I can to get you out of here, but I need to know. [Her voice is starting to shake a bit] I don’t want your pity. I’d find a way to be OK. [beat—guessing where his mind is going] I’d never be with him again. Please, just think about it. I won’t have your answer ‘till I wake up.”
Spike looks agitated—lots of jaw clenching and shifting around in the chair. There’s so much he wants to say to her. A few more minutes pass.
Miranda: [Eyes starting to look very sleepy. She says in a dreamy voice.] “Wish you weren’t so far away. What if I have a bad dream?”
With this, he starts violently hopping around in the chair, trying to worm his way out of it. He manages to turn the chair over, but whaps his head on the coffee-table on the way down (ouch). But on it’s side, he’s able to squirm free of the chair (with his hands and feet still tied together) by breaking off bits and pieces. Once free of it, he inches his way along the length of the couch. It’s quite a production. A card falls out of his pocket onto the floor—it’s the one Lorne gave him. He stops near where her head is and turns so that he is sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the couch and his legs stretched out in front of him. He leans his head back so that it’s almost touching hers. She wraps her good arm around his neck and smiles as she drifts off to sleep. For some reason, no one heard the commotion and so they stay like that for a time. Soon enough, however, Angel comes to check on them and roughly drags Spike back to the chair and ties him more securely. Spike continues to restrain himself from unleashing too much verbal abuse on Angel—he doesn’t want to push him in case he decides to forget the good-guy routine and stake him impulsively. A while later, when Miranda and Spike appear to be resting peacefully, Gunn, Angel and Wesley go out for some reason or another—Duncan and Cordelia still have not returned with the doctor and so Miranda and Spike are alone in the hotel for a short while. Suddenly, we see someone come through the front door and head straight to the room where Miranda and Spike are being kept—it’s Alex.
Alex: [looking worried, but he speaks with a cool, confident tone.] “She has to go. She has to leave now.”
Spike: [looking sleepy] “What are you on about?”
Alex: “Wake her and go. Trachys is on his way—he’ll be here any minute.”
He turns to leave. He knows this is against the rules and the longer he stays, the more likely someone will find out.
Spike: “Not going to happen, mate. Don’t think she’s wake-able and not in any state to walk if she were. And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit tied up at the moment. Pun intended.”
Alex: [frowning and looking from Miranda, to Spike, and back to Miranda] “Where are the others—the others who were helping her?”
Spike: “Dunno. You’re the guy with the hidden cameras. How’s this—find me the keys to these irons and I’ll carry her out myself.”
Alex: [scanning the room for a moment] “The key’s aren’t here. The guy with the hair must’ve taken them.”
Spike: “Well, then. Guess we’re in a bit of a pickle. How much time’ve we got?”
Alex: [starting to look wild eyed—he’s pacing now] “No time. He’s near. He’ll kill her.” [He feels sick at the thought.]
Spike: [now getting a bit alarmed.] “Find an ax or something—we can cut the chains.”
Alex: “No time. We have to go now.”
Spike: “You take her then.”
Alex: [frantic/conflicted] “I can’t. They’ll fire me—kill me, maybe. Not supposed to interfere.”
Spike: “Aren’t you already by being here.”
Alex: [True. But this. This is so much more. He’d have to touch her. To be with her. Oh god, this isn’t good. But he can’t just let her die. He feels dizzy. He rests his hand on the couch to steady himself. Relenting] “I am so screwed. Is there a wheelchair or something? I can’t carry her myself.”
Spike: “Check the big closet off the lobby—I think I saw a laundry cart.”
Alex rushes off and comes back with the cart. After much angst and ire and lots of physical difficulty, he’s able to get Miranda into the cart and he heads off quickly with it. Miranda is semi-conscious at this point. A few more minutes go by and there is a scuffle outside. Angel and Gunn return just in time to chase Trachys away—this israther easy, as Trachys could tell right away that there wasn’t an Immortal inside. Spike tells them that Alex took her (and bitches them out for not leaving someone behind to protect her—they defend themselves by saying they didn’t expect to be gone this long). They call Duncan, who has found the doctor and was on his way to the hotel. Eventually, they track down Alex and Miranda in a motel (built on an old graveyard or something, so it’s safe). Before the others come in, we see Alex sitting on the floor of the room, awkwardly smoking cigarettes and looking utterly frazzled [I picture him looking something like a smoking bunny-rabbit]. He’s mumbling to himself: “Ok. So I’m a fugitive. A fugitive from an organization with the best surveillance equipment on the planet. Ok. I’m screwed.” Miranda is in and out of consciousness. After they (Duncan, Cordelia and the doctor) come in, the doctor examines Miranda and gives her a more powerful painkiller and gets to work on her leg and stitching up her head. He says she’s likely to be out for a couple of hours at least, but should begin to recover quickly after that. He warns that if she wakes up, she might hallucinate from the drug he gave her. They decide to wait an hour or so before moving her back to the hotel so she can rest. The doctor leaves. Duncan and Cordelia sit on a bench outside the door of the motel room. Alex stays inside to keep an eye on her. Some time later, we see Miranda start to squirm on the bed—she’s mumbling something, obviously dreaming.
Suddenly, everything looks a little hazy and we’re back in the room where Miranda and Spike were being kept at the hotel. Miranda wakes up and looks around, trying to figure out where she is. She blinks and then sits up. Her pants are whole again (not missing a leg) and she can move freely—her injuries seem to be gone. She glances across the room and sees Spike tied to the chair, looking at her. Neither of them say anything and abruptly, she’s no longer on the couch, but is standing in front of Spike. She kneels, putting her hands on his legs and smiling up at him.
Miranda: “Guess I’m all better now. [Spike stays silent and just looks at her] I wanted to tell you before, but you wouldn’t let me. There’s something I don’t think you understand. Cal was my husband for 35 years and I loved him dearly. He was a good man and I admired him. Everyone assumes he was the love of my life, I think even you. Perhaps he should have been. But he wasn’t. You are. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
Spike leans over to kiss her—she closes her eyes just before his lips touch hers, but they don’t come. Her eyes fly open in time to see him disappear before her, turned into a pile of dust. She looks up to see Angel hovering with a stake in his hand. Her eyes go wild and she can’t breath. She wants to scream, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, she’s back on the couch lying down—now her injuries are back and her pants cut off. Finally, she’s back in the motel room. She gasps in her sleep and her body goes completely limp.