Scene 6
Back at the hotel. Angel is just hanging up the phone.
Angel: [To Gunn and Wesley] “They found her—she’s Ok. The doctor did a bit of work on her leg—the bone was exploded from the inside, so she won’t be on her feet anytime soon. I told them to bring her here when they feel comfortable moving her. We can take turns keeping watch until we’re sure Trachys has left town.”
Gunn: “I’m happy to crash upstairs tonight. [looking at his watch] Well, for what’s left of it.”
Wesley: “Fine with me also.”
Angel: “Best to take precautions with Spike here. Make sure you’ve got weapons handy.”
Shouting from the other room.
Spike: [disgusted] “As if I’d drink from any of you lot.”
Gunn: [shouting back] “Don’t do us any favors.”
Spike: “Point being that I wouldn’t want to. [to himself] Idiots.”
He’s hungry and tired and frustrated by being away from Miranda and chained to a chair, and so is on edge.
Angel: “Why don’t you two rest up a bit before Miranda and the others arrive. I’ll keep any eye on Spike.”
They nod and go. Some time passes. We see Angel brooding at his desk—he can see into the room where Spike is confined (Spike is facing the other way and can’t see into Angel’s office). Periodically, Angel glances over towards the room and frowns deeply. He glances at a stake he’d pulled out earlier that is now lying on his desk. More time passes. Angel has pulled out a book and is trying to read—but again, his eyes dart over the top of the book to Spike sitting in the chair and then to the stake. Spike is desperately trying not to fall asleep, but you can tell he’s exhausted. Angel shifts in his chair. He’s agitated and his frown deepens. He stares into space a moment and then tosses the book across his desk, stands up and grabs the stake. He pauses for a moment and watches his hand as he tightens his grip on the stake. He mumbles to himself, “it’s the right thing” and takes the couple of quick steps to the door. Just as he’s turning the corner to enter the room with Spike, Duncan walks through the front door carrying Miranda. Her leg is in a make-shift immobilizing cast. Angel immediately puts the stake down and turns to greet them. Cordelia comes in a moment later, followed by Alex, who is wearing a big baseball cap with a wig underneath and sunglasses (looking very shifty).
Duncan: “Where should I put her?”
Angel: [surprised] “She’s unconscious.”
Duncan: “The doctor gave her something pretty powerful for the pain. Was supposed to have worn off, but she hasn’t come to yet.”
Cordelia: [looking a bit concerned] “She’s really cold. Do we have an electric blanket or something around here?”
Gunn: [coming down the stairs] “I’ve got one back at my place—can swing by and get it if you want.”
Angel: “Thanks.”
He’s a bit mesmerized by the sight of her (she almost looks dead)—he can tell that her heart is beating very slowly. In his distracted state, he just lets Duncan stand there with her and forgets to answer his question.
Duncan: [repeating himself] “So where to?”
From the other room.
Spike: “In here. On the couch.” [Frantic to see her—he can sense that something isn’t right.]
Angel: “Downstairs in my room.”
Spike: “Bugger that.”
Angel: [justifying to Duncan] “It’s a smaller, confined space—we can bring a space heater down and it’ll heat up quickly.”
Duncan: [needing to put her somewhere] “Fine.”
Angel points in the direction of the stairs and Duncan leaves.
Spike: [intensely frustrated] “Come on. [under his breath] Bloody bastard.”
After they get Miranda settled downstairs, they work out a sort of ‘schedule’ so that everyone gets a chance to rest. Many hours pass. Cordelia cautiously comes into the room where Spike is to make coffee (the machine is by the door). She thinks he’s asleep. Then comes the sound of his stomach grumbling loudly. She turns to look in his direction and he is watching her.
Cordelia: “Dammit, I knew I should have worn a turtleneck today.”
Spike: “Please, I’ve seen nicer necks on American football players.”
Cordelia: “Somebody’s not in top form this morning. Take it from the master—for an insult to be taken seriously, it’s got to be a bit closer to the truth. [emphasizing her neck with her hands] My neck is Audrey-Hepburn-esq. I could be a neck model. So...”
Suddenly realizing that she’s standing in front of a vampire advertising the tastiness of her neck, she turns back to the coffee machine. Spike is just smirking at her.
Spike: “Though it is true that a hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire. Your boss got a supply of blood stashed somewhere?”
Cordelia: “You know he does. The question is whether or not he’s willing to share with you.”
Spike: “Perhaps you should convince him that it’s a win-win proposition. Assuming it IS his employees’ safety he’s most concerned about.”
Cordelia: “I’ll mention it—AFTER he’s had his tea.” [She turns to leave.]
Spike: [voice shift from snarky/pissy to genuine concern] “Is she OK?”
Cordelia: [frowns, then she turns and shrugs on her way out] “Not awake yet.”
Reluctantly, Angel agrees to give Spike some blood. He walks into the room with a container of blood, with Cordelia and Wesley right behind, carrying mugs of tea and coffee. They’re finishing some conversation about Alex helping them set up surveillance equipment outside the hotel to give them more lead time for possible intruders. Angel walks over to Spike with the container and looks to just pour it into Spike’s mouth.]
Spike: [pulling away.] “Do you have a straw? You’ll spill it otherwise, with those beefy troll hands of yours.”
Angel: “And I thought you were hungry...” [He starts to walk away with it.]
Cordelia: “I think we’ve got straws around here someplace.”
She finds one and hands it to Angel. He puts it in the cup and walks back over to Spike. He takes a sip.
Spike: [disgusted] “ech, it’s ice cold. Cold human blood isn’t so bad, but pig’s blood?”
Angel: “It’s this or nothing.”
Spike: “There’s a microwave right there. Geez, got better treatment from the bloody slayer.”
Angel just ignores him and thrusts the straw back in his face. Spike grumbles, but drinks the rest of it. Duncan comes in, looking worried.
Duncan: “She’s still not awake. I don’t understand it. There should be some improvement by now.”
Wesley: “Is there anything you’re aware of that could slow the healing process?”
Duncan: “Never seen anything like it. Sure, some injuries take longer to heal than others, but we always get better.”
Angel: “And she’s worse.”
Wesley: “Perhaps something supernatural. Might be a good idea to bring in someone who can look for such things.”
Cordelia: “I’ll check the rolodex”
She walks over to the front desk, but leaves the door open behind her.
Spike: [calmly] “Take me to see her.”
Angel: [completely ignoring him] “Duncan, maybe you should call your doctor friend back. Maybe she’s having a reaction to the drug he gave her.”
Duncan: “I’ve already left a message.”
Spike: [trying desperately to stay calm] “I want to see her.”
Angel: [Still ignoring him. Remembering something] “There was a time when she had a stab wound that didn’t heal quickly—it kept bleeding for longer than usual. She was upset—emotional. More upset than I’ve ever seen her.”
Spike: “The Sultan?”
Angel hears and for the first time looks directly at Spike, surprised.
Angel: [Can’t help himself from blurting out] “She told you about that?”
Spike: [icy] “She told me everything.”
This seems to disconcert Angel for a moment.
Wesley: [getting back to the subject] “You think it could be psychological?”
Duncan: “I suppose it’s possible. I’ve heard stories of Immortals putting themselves into a self-induced coma. But why would she do it? She seemed fine just before.”
Spike: [Suddenly looking more agitated. to Angel. Seething.] “You should have killed him.”
Angel: “I did.”
Spike: “You should have killed him when she first asked you to.”
Angel: “That your answer to everything, Spike? Killing?”
Spike: “For her, 'wouldn’t even ask the question. [beat.] [practically snarling] You let him break her. [shaking his head] Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly hate you more.”
Angel: [getting angry—a wee bit defensive, maybe?] “She may have told you some things, but don’t you even pretend to know what went on between us. I did what I had to do and she understood that.”
Spike: “Did she now? I’m very curious to know how it is you recon you know anything at all about what she thought, ‘cause the truth is, you don’t know the first thing about her.”
Angel: “That’s ridiculous.”
Spike: “What’s her favorite color? [Angel stumbles] Red—not fire engine red or burgundy red, but ruby red. What’s her favorite food?”
Angel: “This is stupid—doesn’t mean anything.”
Spike: [He’s been holding so much in this whole trip and now he’s just letting it all out—he’s on a roll; rapid fire] “Chocolate covered strawberries. How did her daughter die? [not even giving Angel time to answer] Murdered by another Immortal. What has she always dreamed of doing since she was a little girl? Fly. What’s the one thing she wants to be sure to live long enough to do? Travel on a space ship. What’s her favorite season? What's her beef with marital arts films? Does she prefer sunrises or sunsets? What’s the first thing she thinks of when she wakes up in the morning, every morning? [he’s done with the list] Admit that you don’t know any of it. Admit that deep down you knew she was only playing the part and that’s why you didn’t think to ask too many questions.”
Angel: “Shut up, Spike. You don’t really want to have this conversation. You think you know what’s best for her? Remember, she left you because she knew you were dragging her down to your level. Back when she was thinking clearly.”
Spike: “She gave you everything and you just took it, didn’t you, you self involved piece_of_shit. You really should have told her, mate. And while we’re on the subject of honesty, why don’t you tell your friends here the real reason you’ve got me tied to a chair.”
Angel: “Enlighten us, please. This ought to be good.”
Spike: “I’m not chained because you’re worried I’ll hurt your little friends here or Buffy or Miranda or anyone else. I’m chained because you’re terrified that I won’t.”
Angel: [this hits a nerve] “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Spike: “You’re terrified that I won’t hurt a bloody fly and then what would your dear, precious Buffy think about that?”
Angel: [sarcastic] “Yeah, because Buffy would hate the fact that nobody dies.”
Spike: “She’d wonder why love wasn’t enough to keep you in check, when it’s enough for me. She’d wonder if you’re just weak and stupid or if you never really loved her in the first place.”
Angel punches Spike hard across the face—hard enough, in fact, to knock him out cold. He looks up to find the others looking at him, ever-so-slightly suspiciously.
Angel: [almost defensively] “If he were free, I’d give him an hour, tops, before he’d go for the nearest jugular.”
He walks angrily out of the room and down to check on Miranda.
Scene 7
Days pass. Everything continues as before—Spike is still chained to a chair. Angel refuses to let him see Miranda. Everyone is kind of frozen—not knowing what to do. Angel spends most of his time by her bed.
It’s Cordelia’s turn to give Spike some blood and she comes in to the room carrying a container.
Spike: [in a very low, downtrodden voice] “Don’t bother—not hungry.”
Cordelia: “Hey, I just spent a good 45 seconds in front of the microwave heating this up for you and lord knows I could’ve spent that time...uh...er....just take it already. You should eat.”
She’s actually become the tiniest bit sympathetic to Spike over the past couple of days—her tone is actually more friendly than bitchy.
Spike: [looking at her with deeply pained, pleading eyes] “How is she? No one will tell me.”
Cordelia: [Looking around to be sure they’re alone. She sits on the couch and puts the container of blood on the coffee table. In a softer voice.] “It’s bad. The doctor came. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. Wesley brought some mystical shaman guy in and he couldn’t find anything. [beat] Her heart’s only beating a few times a minute and getting slower. She’s barely breathing. Nobody knows what to do.”
She offers the cup again. He shakes his head. She sits there for a moment. As she’s getting up to go, she spies something on the floor near his feet. It’s a small card. She leans over to pick it up.
Cordelia: [reading] “Psychodelic Seymor’s Divine Demon Pagoda: Commitment rituals, birth rites and feast-day celebrations performed daily. Call now to reserve an alter. Goats, humans or other sacrificial animals not provided.”
She frowns, cluelessly, and puts it down on the table. She turns to leave.
Spike: [pleading] “You have to convince them to let me see her. Talk to Duncan—he knows. Angel’s only making it worse keeping me away.”
She turns to face him.
Cordelia: “He gets more possessive by the hour—he doesn’t want to leave her side, in case...[Her voice trails off and she looks away.]
Spike: “He’s making it worse, I can feel it. Please. Talk to him.”
Cordelia: [She glances back towards him and frowns. Then she squints as if she sees something she can’t quite fathom.] “Are you...crying?”
Spike: [He turns away, embarrassed, but there is a tear or two. Quietly.] “Fuck off.”
Cordelia: [seriously amazed] “Sorry. It’s just...I...I didn’t know vampires could cry.”
Spike: [Annoyed that he’s so exposed] “Yeah, well, maybe there’s a lot you don’t know.”
Cordelia: [She lets this sink in for a moment. Sincere] “Don’t know if it’ll do any good, but I’ll talk to him.” [She leaves.]
**
Finally, Cordelia and Duncan convince Angel to let Spike see Miranda. Angel insists that his hands stay in the irons, but they remove the ones on his ankles and escort him downstairs. At first, Angel tries to wait just outside the door, but again, Duncan talks him into coming upstairs. Spike sits on a chair pulled up next to the bed.
Spike: “So, uh, hate to be the one to tell you, but you don’t look so hot there, sweets. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Sorry they kept me away so long—hope you didn’t think I’d gone or anything. I guess HE'S been down here most of the time—s’no wonder your heart’s almost stopped. Brings knew meaning to the phrase ‘bored to death’. It’s been no picnic upstairs. Cold pig’s blood through a straw; no smoking. Haven’t gotten a wink of sleep—and I thought airline seats were uncomfortable. You’d think he hated me or something. [beat] That Alex is a piece of work, isn’t he? Lurking about, slinking from room to room. Creepy. I think you should hire him to work in your shop. [He stops the babbling for a moment as he studies her face. In a softer voice] So I think maybe it’s about time for us to hit the road, don’t you think? Saturday’s come and gone, but I promise I’ll call the minute you wake up. The Elvis Impersonators are waiting. [Frowning—it’s hard for him to be upbeat when he can sense how close she is to death. He’s looking more pensive.] I’ve been thinking about things, just like you asked. Have had plenty of time to think, being chained to a chair and all. I was cross at first that you’d even have to ask. But maybe things have changed a bit, what with the whole archangel business. I guess it comes down to this. You told me once that you could never be with me, the way I was before. A few months back, you asked me to help you remember things—remember what's right, how to act. As stupid an idea as that was, it’s been alright, I think. I can see it most of the time—what’s best. I know when we talked about it before, my losing the chip, you suggested we have a list—I don’t kill your friends and other than that, I do what I want. Sounded grand at the time. The thing is, I don’t think that’s good enough. I remember. I can’t let you be with a killer. It’s not right. So now we’re back to the question of the day. Can I give it up? [Thinking about it for a moment] I can say that it doesn’t have the obsessive appeal that it once did—think regardless I’d be more selective now. Don’t like the idea of certain sorts of people dying. Things were simple back then. Now I’m not so sure. [pause] So what do I know? I know that I love you. Yeah, sorry about being so stubborn and not saying it before—guess it was my stupid little way of reminding you how much hurt me. I WAS going to say it—not so good with the long grudges, me—another thing that got missed out on Saturday. [leaning in closer] I love you. I know the pain of not being with you is stronger than any pain I ever got from the bloody chip. So I guess what I’m saying is...I want to be the man you deserve—the man you should be with. Don’t know that I can promise. It’s not going to be easy. I’m kinda hard-wired for evil, you know? But I’ll try. Okay? [Another tear drips down his cheek. Almost to himself] Damn, I hope that’s good enough.”
Cut to upstairs. Angel is pacing around.
Angel: “It’s been two hours.”
Duncan: “I don’t see what the rush is.”
Gunn: [trying to divert attention] “Has Alex been able to put a track on Trachys?”
Duncan: “He hasn’t left town as far as Alex can tell. I’m surprised he hasn’t made another attempt to get to Miranda.”
Gunn: “Maybe he’s not too keen on facing you.”
Duncan: “Maybe.”
Just then, the door to the basement is kicked open. Spike steps through, carrying Miranda in his arms. His left hand is wrapped in a pillowcase that is now soaked in blood—his other hand still has the irons. He must have pulled his left hand through the ring of the iron to get free, crushing some of the bones and taking the skin off in the process. He strides with determination and utter focus across the room towards the front door. As he gets close to the others, he says:
Spike: “She asked me to take her home, so I’m taking her home.”
Angel: “She’s awake? What did she say?”
Spike: [irritated to be questioned, he answers coldly] “She said, “William, take me home.””
Duncan: [pleased] “Oh, thank God.”
Angel: “She’s still barely breathing—you sure she spoke?” [skeptical]
Spike just scowls and walks toward the door.
Angel: “You can’t just walk out of here.”
Spike: “Watch me. [But then, just as he gets to the door, he stops.] I’ll be needing a car of some sort. Volunteers, or shall I steal one?”
Duncan: “I’ll go with you—Trachys is still in town and you’re not in the best shape to protect her.”
Angel: “I’ll drive. Don’t think for a minute I’d let you take her to Sunnydale without a chaperone.”
Cordelia: [wanting to go wherever Duncan goes] “You’ll need a woman’s touch...you know, to do womanly type things. So count me in.”
Angel: [to Gunn] “You think you can hold down the fort for a few days?”
Gunn: “Me and English got it covered.”
Alex: [appearing from nowhere. They all look at him.] “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
Duncan: “The more the merrier, I guess. [to Alex] We’ll protect you as best we can.”
Cordelia: “So, I’m thinking mini-van?”
Gunn: “My friend Dylan’s got a Volkswagen bus—he lives around the corner. Owes me a favor.”
Angel: “Call him.”
Spike: “Fine, it’s a bloody road trip. Can we go now?”
Cordelia: “Wow. Sunnydale, here we come. This should be interesting...”