- - - - - - - - - - - Commercial

Cut to the warehouse of the expensive L. A. Antique Shop. The sign across the bottom of the screen says, "Los Angeles, Present Day"

A group of people with makeshift blindfolds walk single file past the sign saying "The Schicklgruber Collection." There is a man, a woman, two small boys and two small girls. The Goebbels girl, who had come out of the mirror, walks behind them. She holds a gun in her hand and she looks down at it. Pulling back the hammer, she has to scramble for its pieces as it breaks apart in her hand. Shrugging, she places it down on the floor.

Goebbels girl: Herr! Herr! Mister!

The man turns his head toward her. She shrugs and goes back and picks up the gun again. She moves forward and puts the barrel of the gun in his back. She speaks German and the subtitle is "Move forward." The man does nothing and the girl pushes him roughly toward the mirror. When he is standing in front of it, she says, again in German, subtitled, "Step up." Again he does nothing. She moves forward and sticks the gun in his stomach and grabs his leg. She lifts it up and then pushes him forward. He steps into the mirror. Then, using the gun again, she pushes him forward and raises his other leg so he completes the passage into the mirror. A half-second later, Paul Joseph Goebbels, former Propaganda Minister of the Third Reich steps out of the mirror. He sees that his daughter has a gun in her hand and that she has blindfolded her hostages. He smiles at her, takes the gun, and pats her on the head.

Cut to the Newpaper offices of the New York Times.

A reporter pulls some copy out of a printer. He reads for a second, then smiles. He turns to the middle-aged woman at the next desk who is busily typing at a computer. Behind her, on the wall, is a framed picture of one of her newspaper column. In the picture of her, she is wearing a pair of those fake glasses with the nose, moustache and eyebrows attached. The name of her column is "Neurotic Novelties by Terry Bennett." The particular title of the column shown is "Red Heifers for Israel?"

George: Terry, now listen to this. (partially reading, partially interpreting) In Los Angeles, several eye witnesses report having seen a man in a Nazi SS uniform with a woman and some children. Because it's Los Angeles, though, naturally, the locals dismissed it as some actors in costume on a break from the filming of a movie about World War II, but then an L. A. Times' reporter went to the trouble of contacting all the studios and couldn't turn up any movie in progress that would require this kind of wardrobe. Also, several people in a branch of the Wells Fargo Bank not far from there reported seeing a woman enter who spoke only German and who exchanged some pre-World War II gold coins for dollars. Afterwards a taxi driver, who happened to speak a little German, reported that he helped this family navigate their way around Los Angeles, transporting them to a second-hand clothing store where they bought some cheap clothes. Pretty weird, eh?

Terry (interested): I'll say. Was there a description of the man?

George (handing her the copy): Short, thin, dark-haired, wiry, walked with a limp.

Terry (scanning the printout, then looking up): Thanks, George. Sounds like just the feature I've been looking for. (she rises) I'm going to go talk to Sandy and see if I can wrangle this as an assignment.

George: Wait, Terry. You know it's probably nothing, just some INDEPENDENT film company trying to drum up some free publicity.

Terry (waving back over her shoulder): Yeah, maybe. But my instincts tell me there's a story here, plus my daughter lives in L.A. and she's very pregnant with her first. So my instincts also say this could be my ticket to visit her at the paper's expense.

She walks away.

Cut to a library in downtown Los Angeles.

The Goebbels children are seated at a table leafing through magazines. Meanwhile a librarian, holding a German-English dictionary, is helping Magda Goebbels bring up Webpages on the internet. When the librarian leaves, Magda reads page after page of information in German.

Cut to a phone booth in the main lobby of the library.

Goebbels himself (dressed in casual clothes) is making a phone call. He rattles a pocket full of change and starts feeding it into the pay phone. He is next to a window where he can see a Volkswagen pull up and park. He cranes his neck to get a better look at the car.

Cut to an old man kneeling and wiping the offered paws of a dog.

Both have just come in out of the rain. The caption on the bottom of the screen says "Berlin, Germany, 1999."

The phone rings. The older man's hand reaches to pick up the phone. There is a tatoo of the SS on the back of the hand.

Split screen with Goebbels on the left and Muller on the right.

Goebbels (subtitled at the bottom of the screen): Franz Muller?

Muller: Ya ya.

Goebbels (subtitled): Brother of Magda?

Muller (suddenly alert and interested, subtitled): Yes indeed. But who wants to know?

Goebbels (subtitled): Your sister's husband.

Muller (lets out a gasp, in English, "Dubbed"): Paul Joseph, is it really you?

Goebbels ("Dubbed"): Indeed, Franz. Look, we are in Los Angeles of the United States. The world has aged 54 years but we have not. We have been asleep like Rip Van Winkle. But now we have had some help and found your phone number on this Internet box. Needless to say, we are lost and confused in this time and in this country. Also, I believe we are attracting suspicion. No one has asked us for our identity papers as yet, but it's only a matter of time till we're discovered. Also, this phone call--I'm feeding coins into the phone box and have no idea of how long we will be able to talk.

Muller ("Dubbed"): Read me the exact phone number of the phone you are at and then you can hang up and I will call you right back.

Cut back to inside the library where Magda Goebbels reads.

The words are in German. Suddenly for the viewer the words morph into English. The subject matter of the article is a chronology of the events leading to the end of World War II. Credit for winning World War II is largely given to the enormous production effort mounted in the United States (during World War II the U.S. alone built 296,000 airplanes), and the contributions of Rosie the Riveter, etc. Mentioned are the aircraft assembly plants of southern California. Also in the article there is a picture of the Atomic Bomb test that was conducted on Bikini Island in the Pacific and also of one of the ones in Nevada.

Magda pushes back her hair. Her eyes rise above her monitor. Her eyes are moist with ears.

Cut to a flashback in Hitler's Bunker. Across the bottom of the screen it says, "Hitler's Bunker, Berlin, Germany, April 28, 1945, The Night Before Hitler's Wedding."

The bombs fall outside and shake the ground. Hitler is seated in a chair and Goebbels and Magda are opposite.

Hitler (in German, subtitled): They certainly are busy tonight. So many planes, so many bombs. You'd think they'd have run out already.

Goebbels (subtitled): But it's just a matter of time before our aviators will wipe them from the skies. Just give them the time.

Hitler (in English, the word "Dubbed" appears at the bottom of the screen): Ah, Joseph, the time, as you say, may have passed us by. The American war machine may just grind us under its wheels--it just keeps cranking and cranking and more and more planes roll off their assembly lines and their bombing has finally halted all of OUR production lines. I had thought the war in the Pacific would have diluted and distracted the American effort, and then I thought perhaps Roosevelt's death would have given them pause, and then I hoped that Truman and Joe Stalin--now there are two of a kind--would have fought among themselves to see who would be the cock of the walk, but, it looks like they are just going to ignore their inherent differences--you know the capitalists versus the Marxists--and just keep coming at us together. Much later they will fight to see who gets to pick over our bones. But what upsets me the most is that it is OUR traitors, in the final analysis, who are handing us over to them. Goering and now Himler have both betrayed us. But no more. There will be no more betrayals. I wanted to call you both in and inform you that I have ordered this Bunker sealed. From now on no one will leave. (Goebbels and Magda look at each other in alarm. Hitler notices their exchange and he plants an avuncular smile on his face) Joseph (they turn back to him) I need you here with me, but I know that you may want to make other arrangements for Magda and your six children. I will give you the one-time-only option of letting them out now; but, understand, if they stay, then they will see the end of the war from in here. You can have an hour to decide. Please talk it over. I await your decision. (he looks around) Now, where is my lovely Eva?

Cut to another room within the Bunker. Magda (in English, "Dubbed" remains at the bottom of the screen): Paul, I must stay here with you; my brother, Franz, can take care of the children till we can leave.

Goebbels (angry, frustrated): Don't you see. None of us will ever leave here alive. And, despite what he has said, none of us CAN really leave. He is just testing us. Our Fuhrer has now become obsessed with the idea that he is being betrayed on all sides, and ANY move on our part to leave right now will merely play right into his hands. It will be seen by him as a prelude to a further betrayal, like the kiss of Judas.

Magda: My Paul, what are you saying?

Goebbels: I'm saying that when Goering declared himself Hitler's successor, it wounded the man. Now with Himler trying to appease the Allies and arrange a truce behind his back, the Fuhrer has become paranoid. Borman feels it as I do. None of us can be seen to want to leave here or the Fuhrer will suspect that we, also, are plotting to betray him and he will have us immediately put to death. And he's started to have his "intuitions." Two men were pointed out by the Fuhrer as being overly suspicious and they are even now under constant survelliance.

Madga (stunned): But this cannot be right.

Goebbels: Do you really want to risk it?

Magda (trying to think as bombs go off nearby): I see what you mean. He DID talk very coyly with us, as though playing a role. Perhaps this IS a test. It is a shame he may be driven to such measures. Oh, I just wish that those American bombs would stop. I can't even hear myself think anymore.

Fade to black

Fade back to light.

Cut to Hitler's Bunker after the Wedding. The sign at the the bottom of the screen says, "Hitler's Bunker, Berlin, Germany, April 29, 1945, Hitler's Wedding Reception."

Hitler is standing handing out wedding gifts. A German General is last in line. Magda Goebbels sits off to Hitler's side.

German General (in English, "Dubbed" appears at the bottom of the screen): Congratulations on your wedding, My Fuhrer. I don't believe I've ever seen a lovelier bride.

Hitler: Danke, yes, I'm very lucky. (he hands him a little case) And here's that little item we talked about.

Hitler sits as the General leaves. He looks over at Magda.

Hitler (to Magda): I must say that your decision to remain here with me in this Bunker, with your children, has truly overwhelmed and inspired me. Here is your wedding favor. (He hands her one of the little cases.) Sorry, but, as I promised, it contains two cyanide capsules. And, of course, we will have six more available for your use whenever you are ready for them. But, Magda, I bow to you as you are certainly the Number One Mother in the Fatherland and so I declare you First Mother of the Third Reich, and here (he unpins a Nazi swastika decoration from the lapel of his suit and hands it to her) you shall have the honor of wearing my personal party badge. It symbolizes my deep respect for your extreme sacrifice and your faith in my vision of our Deutchland.

Fade to black.

Fade back to light.

Cut to the Goebbels room in the Bunker. The sign across the bottom of the screen says, "Hitler's Bunker, Berlin, Germany, April 30, 1945"

Magda leans toward the heavy wooden door listening intently; there's a knock.

Magda (in English, "Dubbed"): Who is it?

Goebbels: Paul.

She opens the door for him and the camera reveals that the six children are behind her sitting on bunk beds. Goebbels enters and pulls her aside.

Goebbels: Bad news. The Fuhrer is dead; he and Eva have both committed suicide.

Cut to a fast scene of Hitler and Eva Braun lying dead with their mouths open.

Cut back to the Goebbel's Room.

Magda: The poor man.

Goebbels: The guards now have orders to execute everyone else who has not taken their cyanide capsules. Our bodies are then to be taken out into the courtyard, doused with gasoline, and set on fire.

Magda looks with fear over at her six children (two boys around nine and ten--one blonde and one dark-haired--and four girls, one in her teens and the other three smaller with the youngest being around three years old.) The youngest sits with a green binky held next to her ear while she sucks on her thumb. The children are dutifully sitting on the edge of their beds, knowing something is wrong, but keeping quiet. Magda turns away and closes her eyes in distress, then she warily looks over at the mirror, which now looms large at the other side of the room.

Magda: Perhaps it's the only way--still, I fear we may be jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

Goebbels: It's all we have. But we must hurry.

Magda (barely above a whisper): Okay, children, remember what I told you? We are merely going to play Alice Through the Looking Glass. It will be fun, you'll see. Now line up.

The children scurry from their bunks and line up single file facing the mirror. The youngest is at the end of the line and has her binky.

Goebbels: You lead them, dear, I will bring up the rear.

Magda Goebbels gets in front of the line of children, grabs the oldest daughter's hand, holding it up so they all can see the example and link hands, and then she walks forward. She hesitates a second before confidently stepping into the mirror. The children, then, also move forward until all but the littlest girl has entered. The little girl suddenly looks concerned and hesitates; she shakes her hand free from her sister, leaving her sister holding the binky, and she runs back toward her bed. The line moves into the mirror.

Goebbels: Helga! Hurry, Helga, where are you going? What are you looking for?

Helga: Christina. My dolly Christina. I want Christina.

Suddenly the doorknob rattles. Someone is trying to force the door, but it is locked from the inside.

Cut to outside in the hall.

Three Nazi soldiers with machine guns stand at the door.

Lead soldier: Minister Goebbels, please open up.

Cut back inside the room.

Goebbels motions for his daughter to hurry. The girl grabs her doll and turns. Then someone rushes the wooden door and a loud noise erupts from it and it shakes violently. The girl is scared and hesitates.

Voice from outside: Open up, Herr Minister.

The door is rushed again and the onslaught produces another loud impact and the door moves slightly.

Goebbels takes one step into the mirror and turns back and motions for his daughter and holds out his hand.

Goebbels: Hurry, Helga.

Goebbels is entirely inside the mirror except for his head and his arm. The little girl finally springs into action and runs toward her father. Goebbels reaches out and grabs her by the arm and he pulls her toward the mirror, but the girl seems to literally bounce off it, and Goebbels loses his hold on her. Goebbel and his arm end up being entirely inside the mirror. When he attempts to extend his arm outward again, his arm then his head meet a wall of glass. The girl, in the meantime, is stunned by her impact with the mirror and, falling to the floor, she looks up, holding her doll, crying. Magda comes up behind Goebbels holding the binky and looks out at her daughter.

Magda: What has happened? Oh, my God!

In a fit of irrational horror Magda rushes at the mirror and she also meets the wall of solid glass. She does it again. Then again. The camera reveals she has a gash on her forhead that's bleeding. She goes to rush again and Goebbels grabs her arms and holds her back. Behind them the other children stand and behind them is a miasma of dense fog.

The soldiers from outside are again heard rushing the stout wooden door. The little girl moves toward the mirror again and touches it. It is solid to the touch. She cries.

Helga: Momma, momma, help me, help me.

From inside, Magda, reaches toward her daughter's hand. But there is a barrier of unbreakable glass between their hands and she watches her daughter with tears streaming down her face. Goebbels pushes Madga out of the way, pulls his pistol, and fires high up at the glass, but there is no pentration and the bullet ricochets from it and the other children duck for cover.

Inside the Bunker, the door of the room is rushed again, this time almost buckling it.

Inside the mirror the parents can hear the girl sobbing inside the room but the girl clearly cannot hear them as they yell to her.

Goebbels: Hide, Helga, hide. Move back. Get away.

Not hearing them but entirely on her own the girl backs up to a spot behind the door and pulls a chair in behind her. She's just in time as the door suddenly splinters then springs open. Its forward momentum stops, though, where it encounters the chair. Two soldiers enter with machine guns held at the ready.

Inside the mirror the horrified parents watch as the girl remains standing behind the door. The soldiers give the room ahead of them a cursory look. If they truly looked in the mirror they might see the reflection of the girl, but they look at the mirror as merely another piece of furniture and look around it. Seeing nothing moving or out of the ordinary, they look at each other in wonder.

One of them comes over and pushes the mirror aside to get behind it. As he does so, the camera sees the little Goebbels girl sink to the ground and so she becomes hidden by the chair from immediate view.

The view from inside the mirror, then, has become the far blank wall.

Meantime a bomb lands very nearly on top of the bunker and those inside the mirror hear the detonation and see the ground shake.

Magda (beside herself with concern): My darling Helga. Oh, my beautiful child. Those American bastards! If not for the numbers of their warplanes, this day would never have come.

Cut to the ouside of one of the Los Angeles area's gaucher motels.

The camera pans through a courtyard of palm trees and then past a pool circled with beach chairs filled with tan and toned people in string bikinis and speedos. Several swimmers dive from the side into the pool. The camera goes past them and through an alcove into another courtyard and then to a door. On the other side of the door, Goebbels goes to the window and peers out. The Goebbels children are outside doing cartwheels in the grass. A woman, not a Goebbel, also peers out to view the children playing.

Cut to inside the Goebbels motel suite.

Goebbels (warily) ("Dubbed"): No politzei as yet. We have been fortunate no doubt.

Magda (looking up from the TV): Paul, come quickly. They're doing it again. See.

Goebbels (entering): What is it? Another list of Jews?

He comes to the TV to watch credits scroll up the screen.

Magda (pointing at a clock on the wall): Yes, they do it right before the half hour. They run this long lists of people, mostly Jews. I wonder. I read in the library that the Americans have become obsessed by the Fuhrer's Final Solution. I wonder if this is some kind of memorial to those killed in the camps.

Goebbels: Are they all Jews? Let's see. (He moves closer.)

Magda: No, not all. Looks like most are, though. But then not only Jews were killed in the camps. (changing the subject) The entertainment they show on this box is strange. Some are decadent dramas, people in their underwear climbing into bed together. And then they have these intelligence tests with an audience. These Americans are the people who outproduced us? I find it insulting.

Goebbels: Well, we may have to live with them.

Magda: Never. For them, fifty some years may have gone by, yet for me, my hatred for them stings like a fresh burn from the stove. In my mind they were still bombing us just this week and, just yesterday, they took my sweet Helga from me. (She picks up the green binky and holds it against the side of her face.) But, I wonder why Franz arranged these strange accomodations for us.

The phone rings. Goebbels and Magda look at each other. He shrugs and goes over and picks it up.

Goebbels: Hello. (pause) Yes, Franz. (pause) No, fine. (pause) Yes, Magda is fine. And the children thrive. I'm certain it will not take them as long as your sister and I to get used to this land. (pause) I'll put her on?

He holds the phone out to Magda. She looks at it and then holds it up to her ear.

Split screen with Franz Muller.

Helga: Franz, is it really you?

Muller: Liebschen, is it YOU?

Magda: With loads of love for my younger brother, but you sound very different.

Muller: Magada, I am an old man, 76 years old, my dear. This is certainly an odd turn of events, but I am glad you are well. I have thought about you every day since the end of the war, wondering. Now, you should be able to enjoy the rest of your life--you are very rich. I have monitored your Swiss bank account over the years and your's and Joseph's money has remained safe and has, in fact, multiplied many many times over. But how is your motel? I am told by my operatives that you will be safe there. You should be safe, period, in the United States. Just don't try to drive a car. I will wire you money--that means a delivery person will arrive at your door with it. He may wear a uniform. Don't be alarmed.

Magda: Franz, that all sounds wonderful, but in my mind, I am still fighting the war. I would like to strike a blow to pay back these bastards for taking my Helga.

Muller: What is it you say? What happened to your Helga?

Magda: She was lost, Franz. She got separated from us and then the mirror would not allow her through it and we lost her. The Americans, no doubt, killed her or caused her to be killed. The Americans deserve to lose something as valuable as my Helga.

Muller: Oh, my poor sister. How I grieve for your loss! But it was the war. Put it behind you, my dear sister, far behind.

Magda: But, Franz, you forget. For me it happened just yesterday. Once we entered the mirror, things quickly quieted down. Then suddenly the mirror was enclosed in packing material. Without that outward look and the light, our thoughts turned inward. Soon we fell into a deep sleep. Then suddenly we were awakened by someone unpacking us. That was just yesterday. Today, I still want to strike back. To avenge all the children. I am the First Mother of the Fatherland.

Muller: Nothing good can come of your anger, my sister. You are free and wealthy and young. You can yet have a good life.

Madga: How much wealth?

Muller: Somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-three million dollars. The miracle of compound interest.

Magda (sitting down): Oh, my god. (thinking) Would that be enough to buy a bomb?

Muller: Yes, I'm certain. Many bombs. With planes to drop them.

Magda: Atomic?

Muller: Atomic? Where did you learn about atomic bombs?

Magda: We went to a library and the librarian helped us get onto something called the Internet. I saw pictures of the explosions.

Muller: It's complicated. Many large countries in this time DO have atomic bombs but they use them mostly to threaten each other with. No one actually wants to detonate one, as the bombs themselves produce a contamination that destroys all life in that area and anywhere the explosion cloud blows to. And the bombs are under military lock and key. It would be difficult to get hold of one. Forget it.

Magda: Not even for twenty million dollars?

Muller: Well, I don't know. Perhaps we could find a corrupt official in one of the broken-apart Soviet republics who would be willing to part with such a bomb for fifteen million dollars. I suppose anything's possible. And then it would take another five million to get it to you. Twenty million might get you one.

Magda: That would leave us with three million. Is that enough?

Muller: More than enough. But, Magda, think. You would regret your revenge, once you saw the devastation you had created. What does Joseph say?

Madga: You forget, Franz, in my mind just a few days ago I came from a place of terrible devastation caused by these very same people. This California where we are--this was the area, was it not, where all those planes were built that dropped all those bombs on us?

Muller: Probably not more than one hundred miles from where you are.

Magda: And this California where we are--the Americans like this place, don't they?

Muller: It is probably their favorite state of all the United States, even though geologically it is unstable; there are tectonic plates under the ground which shift on occasion and cause earthquakes.

Magda: Well (looking around her to see who can hear) Helga was my favorite child, so it'll be an even trade. Paul will agree.

Muller: Magda, you know I would do anything for you. Now, I won't promise you anything, but I will try to accomplish your wish. At least it will give an old man something to do, something more exciting than playing checkers, walking the dog, and making certain I get enough fibre in my diet. How I long for the old days when the world trembled before us. I will see if there's enough of us old farts still alive to work out the logistics.

Magda: Do it for me, Franz. Set it in motion and then come visit us. I would love to see you again.

Cut to a picture of a Terry Bennett newspaper column titled, "Nazis Appear in Los Angeles. What's the World Coming to?"

At the bottom of the page in italics is a request, "This reporter would like to interview these people. Anyone having any knowledge of their whereabouts are requested to phone 213-***-**** with any information. We will offer a year's subscription to the paper for any valid lead."

The camera zooms away from the newspaper article which is open on a kitchen table. At the window looking out past the curtain is the back of a middle-aged lady. From the yard can be heard "Ein, Zwei, Drei, Vier," Outside the window the Goebbels children are playing marching soldiers with wire hangers stretched out serving as rifles.

Cut back inside where the lady picks up the phone.

Cut to the working office of Spike's Hotel.

Spike comes striding out of an office that says Manager on the door. Willow and Oz are seated in the lobby and rise. Spike extends his hand and they shake.

Spike: Nice of you two to come. Come along and I'll show you what I need help with.

As they walk back to his office, past desks of other workers, Oz notes other computer terminal and a color, graphics printer. He can't help himself, and he stops and raises the lid on it and gazes down at the glass. Spike and Willow stop and wait for him.

Oz (looking up sheepishly): Sorry, I love technology.

Spike: No reason to be sorry. Please feel free to browse. I've told the others that you can have free run of the place. You've got desks over there. (He points and for the first time they notice their name tags on the desks.) And see those guys over there? (There are three guys in suits clustered around a computer.) Those're my management consultants. (He whispers) They're too serious. I don't trust them anymore than you trust me. (Normal voice) Come along.

He motions them into his office and closes the door.

Willow: Excuse me, Mr. Bonham . . .

Spike: Spike.

Willow: Okay, Spike, but this is most uncomfortable. I mean, don't these other people know you are a . . .

Spike: Vampire. No, they don't. All they know is that I'm someone with enough money to prevent their paychecks from bouncing, so they don't bloody-well care. So, please don't tell them--I don't want you ruining office morale. So, please don't. But, if YOU want to discuss the philosophical underpinnings of my existence, let's go for it some time. I've been around thinking about it since Lincoln was President, so I think I can hold my own in a discussion.

Oz: How can we believe we are safe from you?

Spike: Well, as I find out, my friend Angel has been disgorged from the bowels of hell (he smiles to himself) and suddenly I love that mental picture. (pause) Oh, where was I? I think Angelus-Angel and your perky friend Buffy will tell you that my word, once given, is as good as gold. It's my one source of pride--oh, yeah, I keep forgetting--I'm proud of another little matter but you don't need to know about. But as far as my nature, I prefer to keep my feeding habits to myself. I will, however, give you my word that I have never availed myself of anyone if I knew his/her first name.

Willow: Willow.

Oz: How about a nickname? Oz.

Spike: No nicknames. This is a serious business.

Oz: Oswald.

Spike: Willow, Oz, you are now under my protection. By me and from me. I would rather die than see you harmed. Do you want me to cross my heart and hope to die? (They smile.) Okay, so how does god-forsaken little me operate this god-forsaken equipment?

Willow: Let's turn it on and see what we got.

Cut to a montage of scenes of Oz, Willow, and Spike, examining his computer. Spike is shown punching keys and looking up at a screen with a rudimentary PowerPoint Slide Show Presentation program running on it. Oz and Willow are shown encouraging him. The show says "Spike's Sunnydale Inn" and then automatically it displays a slide show on the screen, with different wipes and fades and appearances for each slide, with scanned-in pictures of various views of the hotel and at the end a graphic picture of the menus.

Later they examine the large, color, graphics printer and Spike watches while a copy of his menu rolls out.

Spike (examining the printed menu): Okay, I can see how PowerPoint works. How ingenious! Looks at his watch. Okay, enough for this morning. Why don't you two have lunch, in my restaurant--on the house--make that a paid lunch to boot--and meet me back here at one-thirty. I'd like to get into some of the other modules of my new close personal friend (patting a computer monitor.)

Cut to Willow and Oz having lunch.

Oz: He certainly is enthusiastic. Not what I expected.

Willow: He DOES have a lot of energy for someone who's probably been up all night. I like him.

Oz: I do too.

Cut to Spike walking through a narrow hallway where workmen are cleaning up after having laid floor tiles

Other workers are on a scaffold painting the ceiling. A closed-circuit camera stares down from a spot where they are painting.

Spike (going over to a man with a set of drawings laid out across two sawhorses): I know I'm demanding and you're finding these repairs odd, but, thanks, it all looks fine. And you're going to assure me that this hallway will be air tight?

Workman: Yes, once you close both these doors. He points to a door with a sign on it saying "Entrance to Ballroom."

Cut to Spike examining the construction activity in a large ballroom.

Workers are positioned at various spots on scaffolds hanging chandeliers and installing sprinklers heads on the fire protection system. The floor is a marbled tile. He walks over to the corner to a box mounted on the wall. On top of the box is a flag which looks like much like a mailbox flag.

Spike (to a passing worker): Can I try it?

Worker (shrugging): The valve? Sure. Won't hurt. It's not connected yet.

Spike pulls a keychain out of his pocket which has a car alarm-looking switch attached. He pulls back a cover and pushes a button. It chirps like he is setting a car alarm. The flag goes from its normal position, straight up in the air, and it falls over to the right to the three o'clock position. Spike smiles and does a thumbs up.

Cut to the Sunnydale Inn's offices in the afternoon.

Playing in the background while this is showing is the lovely Dolly Parton's version of the song "Nine to Five."

Willow is showing Spike how to move the mouse on a word processing document. Meanwhile Oz is on another computer examining a separate program that does accounting. Oz looks puzzled and refers to a manual and then looks back at the screen.

A workman shows up at the receptionist's desk with a clipboard. The receptionist refers him to Spike who runs up in slow motion and takes the clipboard out of the man's hands. He reads it, smiles very broadly, and unexpectedly hugs the delivery man. The man is surprised but he smiles. Spike takes a moneyclip out of his back pocket and peels off a couple of bills and gives them to him.

Cut to a later scene where delivery men are carrying a large upright box through the front door of the office. Spike directs them to the office supply storeroom and, once they have placed the crated box inside, he enters the storeroom for a few minutes (the song "Nine to Five" concludes at this point) during which those outside can hear the sound of wood breaking and the package being uncrated, then Spike emerges beaming once again.

Spike (singing to himself. The others can't hear it but we can. From "West Side Story"):

I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and bright.
And I pity any guy who isn't me tonight. See the pretty boy in the mirror there. Who can that enchanting boy be?

Willow notes that Spike takes the time to lock the door behind him with a key. Willow also notes that there is a keyboard with the keys to various Hotel vans and courtesy cars, etc., against the far wall. When Spike walks out of the office, she visits the board and verifies that there is also a key there labeled Office Suppies. Oz pretty much continues to try to figure out the Accounting Software all this while.

Cut to the Sunnydale Inn's office.

A clock shows 4:30. Spike rises from a computer where Oz and Willow have been looking on.

Spike: Well, I think I've absorbed enough for one day. I'll look over the manuals and this (he holds up an "Excel for Dummies" book.) Let's do this again next Saturday. Okay? And next week you can bring your other friend, you know, the one who fancies herself the Grande Dame. Maybe she WILL have some menu suggestions worth considering.

Willow: I don't know how Oz will feel about it, but I've enjoyed this day. It's always nice trying to teach someone something when they actually want to learn.

Oz: I agree. I had no idea--how can I say this without being insulting? I had no idea you were so smart.

Spike: Nice of you to say that. Also, nice of you to NOT hold my nocturnal activities against me. Even MY mind is a terrible thing to waste, you know. Thanks again, kids. See Helen for your paychecks. And, Oz, take this. (He hands him a box containing a portable cell phone.) I may have a question on this accounting software, and it would help me to be able to contact you. Otherwise, use it as you wish and I'll pay the bill; I'm certain with your band, it will come in handy. Now, I've got some remodeling to check up on. Good bye, kids.

Willow: Good bye.

Spike walks out humming "I feel pretty."

Willow and Oz look at each other and smirk when they catch the tune. Then they go over to Helen's desk. Helen gives Willow a check and, while Oz gets his, Willow backs up to the key cabinet and palms the key to the Office Supply room.

Cut to their desks. They are packing up.

Willow: Ooh, all this money. I can BUY a new computer. (she motions) I'm just going to visit the ladies' room.

Oz: And I always WANTED a cell phone. (He nods.) Okay, I'll wait for you outside.

Oz leaves and Willow notices that the other workers are otherwise occupied. She looks down at the key in her hand and sidles over to the storeroom. Looking around again, she verifies no one is looking in her direction and she inserts the key, opens the supply room door, and steps inside. Closing the door, she turns on the light and is startled when she sees someone move in the room. But it is simply her reflection in the mirror. Calming herself, she goes over and inspects the mirror. She walks around behind it, then she comes back to the front. She fingers the ornate carving in the wooden frame. Thinking she sees something strange in the way the mirror fits into the frame she leans against it and finds to her surprise that her upper arm passes through the seemingly-solid glass, then her surprise doubles as she is grabbed and pulled into the mirror. She is unable to struggle much as she really has no leverage. She disappears quickly. A scant few seconds later the girl from the Antique Shop in Los Angeles emerges from the mirror.

Cut to inside the mirror.

Willow gets up and moves forward to the glass and finds it solid to the touch. She pushes and shoves at it to no avail. Then she looks around herself at the foggy realm she is in.

Cut to the front of the Hotel where it is still light out.

Oz stands patiently and looks up as a girl looking very much like Willow emerges from the revolving door at the front of the Hotel. He moves forward to greet her, then he stops when he sees it's not really Willow. (It is the Antique Shop girl.) He looks confused.

Cut to the Sunnydale High School Library.

Oz, Buffy, Cordelia, Xander, Angel and Giles sit around the center table.

Oz: And Spike says he doesn't know where she is. This may sound naive but I must admit, after having spent most of the day with him, that I actually believe him. He genuinely likes her.

Giles (concerned): I thought something like this might happen. I wish you two had stayed away. He may not have the same restrictions on his actions that we have. No conscience.

Angel: For what it's worth, if Spike said he doesn't know, I believe him. Spike's really an odd duck. Sure, he's a vampire, but he's certainly not a normal one. He likes to be the leader and he loves to display a lot of bluster, but I have seen him exhibit real compassion and he has his own sense of morality. And he honestly loves Dru.

Buffy: My mom likes him.

Cordelia: I say we call the police.

Giles: It may be too soon. Perhaps it's time WE try to figure out exactly what Spike is really up to.

Cut to Buffy and Angel crouching behind some shrubbery in the dark.

Keeping low, they move behind a Dumpster positioned in the rear of the Hotel complex. There is a door off to their left and Angel goes over and tries it.

Cut to another office within the Hotel.

Spike watches a computer monitor with a diagram of the hotel complex. A light flashes. He moves over to a closed-circuit TV and watches.

Cut to the Motel hallway.

Buffy and Angel move stealthily through a hallway. It is decorated with a line of pictures and there is a long thin sofas against one of the walls. Buffy sniffs the air.

Buffy: Paint.

They move forward. Ahead of them is a door with a sign painted on it "Entrance to Ballroom." Suddenly jets of a gas begin spraying into the room. Angel runs to the "Ballroom" door and tries it; it is locked and won't budge. Buffy runs to the door they had come through and pulls and tugs on it but it is locked from the outside. She looks odd and passes out. Angel almost reaches her before he also succumbs.

Cut to Spike watching this on the hotel monitor. Spike goes over to an intercom and pushes a button.

Spike: Shaky, are you there?

Shakespeare: Here, Spike.

Spike: I think it's time to go collect my intended and bring her here. You know where she'll be.

Shakespeare: Now?

Spike: Yes, now. And have you fed the children yet?

Shakespeare: Not yet.

Spike: Well, see that you do or I'll stick you in the Jacuzzi again.

Shakespeare: Okay.

Cut to the ballroom.

Angel and Buffy are bound to a scaffold. They begin to wake.

Druscilla, holding a rag doll that looks like Raggedy AnnŽ, is seated in a chair. Across the room is the mirror covered with a sheet. Spike notices Angel and Buffy returning to consciousness. Spike has a table off to the side, covered with a white tablecloth, with a pitcher of ice water and some glasses on it. He pours a glass of water.

Spike: Ah, here's our guests, Dru. Nice of you two to drop in. How convenient. (He goes over and offers the water to Buffy who shakes her head from side to side.) If you hadn't come I might have had to send you engraved invitations, but now I can reduce my overhead and this helps my bottom line which makes my acccountant happy. And that's my new mission in undeath, anymore, to make my accountant happy.

Angel: Hey, Spike. Where's our friend Willow?

Spike: I heard she's missing. Sorry. I wouldn't hurt a red hair on her sweet head. Look elsewhere. I'll even look some more myself when we're finished here.

Bufffy (indicating Dru): I thought I told you NO MORE DRU.

Spike (putting the glass back down): Yes, well, she came back on her own. She probably heard that her bosom buddy Angel here was back in town and came back to renew old acquaintenances.

Druscilla: You know that's not true. I told you why I came back.

Spike (ignoring Dru, continuing to talk to Buffy): The two of them were quite a THING, you know, once upon a time, and I gather she still fancies herself Angel's little princess. I, evidently, on the other hand, am just chopped liver to her. She did once exhibit a twinge of jealousy about me and you, though, little Miss Slayer, so it's good you're here. I just hope you Slayers are especially tough minded--not just ordinary humans.

Angel: What are you up to, you wacko?

Spike: Well, I thought we might settle something here. I thought we'd hold our very own Beauty Pageant. Dru likes Beauty Contests, don't you, Pet?

Druscilla: Miss Edith and I always watch them on the telly. We like them ever so much.

Spike (sticks his tongue out to Angel): See? (to Dru) And you always like the pretty people and hate the ugly ones, don't you, Dru?

Druscilla: Always.

Spike: Well, what if I showed you how ugly your friend Angel, here, really is? And by contrast how pretty I am. Might'nt you then change your tune?

Angel (struggling against his restraint): What in the hell are you talking about?

Spike: I've got a surprise for you kiddies. See the mirror over there? It's real neato. I saw it work years ago and I tracked it down and bought it for myself. It's not like any ordinary mirror. In this mirror, you CAN see vampires. Well, actually you can't see the vampire but, better yet, you can see the DEMON inside the vampire. I'd just like Dru to be able to compare us on all levels, Angel.

Buffy: And this is supposed to prove what?

Spike: Watch and learn, little Cutie; stop, look and listen. Pretty is as pretty does. (To Dru) Come here, Pet, I want you to stand right here. I've got something to show you.

Spike motions to Druscilla and she rises with her doll and walks forward. He stops her on an X he has marked on the floor.

Spike: There. Now stand right there, my pretty. And don't move.

Angel: I don't know what you expect to accomplish Spike, but give it a rest. No one has been hurt, here, let's just break up this little meeting and appoint a committee to study the problem.

Spike: You know, Angel, I really have nothing against you as Angelus or even the you in your current wimpy Angel state. Either way I kind of like you. If only Dru didn't crave you so much, I'd just be happy to wave at you in the street and see you once a year at the family reunion, but she does. And it irks me. So, let's get on with our Beauty Pagent. By the way, keep in mind if I'm not named Mr. Congeniality, I'm gonna be really pissed and I might hurt somebody.

He goes over toward the mirror and grabs hold of the sheet to remove it, but then he hesitates and he comes back to Buffy.

Spike (singing to himself again, from the "West Side Story" song "I Feel Pretty"): I feel charming, Oh so charming, It's alarming how charming I feel. And so pretty that I hardly can belive I'm real.

Buffy is faintly amused at his choice of song. He takes his suit coat off and hangs it over Buffy's head.

Spike (whispers to Buffy): Excuse me, Slayer, but I'm going to deprive myself of your beauty, for your lovely mother's sake. She's the one Dru should really be jealous of, you know. Now don't shake this off, girlie; I don't know how it will affect you to look in this mirror and see an actual demon. So, keep this on and I'll let you go home when this is over, I swear that to you.

Dru: What are you saying to her, Spike?

Spike: I'm just assuring her she can go home after this.

Dru: But she's a Slayer. We should kill her.

Spike: Dru, dear, didn't you get my memo on that? We've been making deals, this Slayer and I. We negotiate. (returning to center stage, putting on an announcer's voice) Anyway, our first contestant is originally from Liverpool, England; he's got a dish and likes to watch Manchester United off the satellite feed and he likes Old Granddad and bosomy broads: Please welcome, Mr. Spike Bonham. (He claps. Dru claps.)

Spike strides like a fashion model. He walks off in one direction, then whirls, he walks back to the mirror and pulls the sheet off with a flourish. From Dru's vantage point, she can see Spike in the mirror and he looks just like himself.

Spike (looking in the mirror, pretending to fluff the back of his hair, talks to himself): Handsome devil; haven't seen you in a while. (Talking out loud again.) Okay, now for our second contestant. He hails from Galway, Ireland. A man of violent personality swings he can make Jekyll and Hyde look like Steve Urkel. Right now, he's "good" again, and for how long we have no idea but we don't really care--we have fun with him either way--please welcome our other contestant, Mr. Angelus O'Hara. (Spike goes over and turns the mirror toward Angelus who, upon seeing himself, is absolutely stunned and then cringes in horror. Spike then turns the mirror toward Dru.) In the mirror, Pet. Look at the mirror. Here's my competition. I think you'll realize there is no real competition.

From Dru's standpoint, now, she can see the Demon that is Angel. It's a hideous creature and looks like a dark, hairy version of Acathla, but it seems to have a milky bluish substance floating behind it. It's not on screen long, and we see the revulsion in Dru's face at the sight of it. She turns away and happens to see Buffy's covered head.

Cut to a view of Willow looking out from the mirror.

Willow beats on the inside of the glass, but it has no effect. She stops and then looks out on the proceedings of the Beauty Pagent.

Cut to Dru, turned away from the mirror, looking at Buffy.

Dru starts over towards Buffy.

Dru: I think that our Slayer should also see what her boyfriend looks like. We don't want ANYONE laboring under ANY delusions.

Spike: No, Dru, don't. Don't do that.

With that, Druscilla pulls Spike's suit coat off Buffy head.

Spike: Slayer, keep your eyes closed.

Angel: Close your eyes, Buffy.

Druscilla: Yes, dear, keep your eyes closed while I rip your throat out.

Buffy opens her eyes and looks Dru in the face to meet the threat, but Dru, now seeing she has Buffy's attention, indicates the mirror with a flip of her head. Buffy looks at the mirror. Her mouth opens and she tries to turn her head but she is transfixed.

Cut to Angel who struggles to free himself but who finally drops his head in shame.

He has been exposed as an aggressively ugly demon.

Cut back to Druscilla.

Druscilla, seeing Angel's distress, takes a few steps towards him, but she is startled as Buffy suddenly bursts out with laughter. Dru stops and looks at Buffy who continues to stare at the mirror and laugh. Druscilla's reaction is to look at the mirror, herself, and she suddenly sees herself as a large, ugly demon carrying a small doll. She is transfixed for a few seconds at the image, but then, when she moves the doll and the doll in the mirror moves and she realizes the demon IS her, she suddenly begins keening like a banshee. She even drowns out Buffy who is now laughing hysterically, uncontrollably.

Dru: Aheee, Ahee, Ahheeeee.

Spike holds his head with both hands and covers his ears, not able to believe the mess he has made. Suddenly he moves to his side and grabs the pitcher of water and hurls it at the mirror. The mirror shatters into many small pieces and falls to the floor.

Cut to inside the mirror where Willow flinches as the pitcher is thrown toward her.

Then the glass and the light in front of her are shattered and extinguished, and she is left in total darkness.

Cut back to the ballroom

Back in the ballroom, Druscilla, now quiet, sinks to her knees, Angel hangs his head, and Buffy continues to laugh out loud uncontrollably, at times barely able to catch her breath. She chokes and coughs but still the laughter comes, verging on hysteria.

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