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- Back - Episode 155: " Ready, Unsteady " - Season 8, Episode 11
We do not own the characters in this story, nor do we own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel the Series". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, WB and UPN Television Networks. ~~~~~~~~~~ Prologue ~~~~~~~~~~ Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: EXT. ROOF, SCOOBY HQ, NIGHT WILLOW: I found out—I think-- the other day. (she glances at KENNEDY) I think the spell killed—babies. KENNEDY: (alarmed) What? WILLOW: The location spells kept--- I found some then they were gone—I couldn’t work out what was happening. But I’ve been reading—reports of babies are dying for no reason.
ETHAN and JANIE - he's covering her hands as she holds a knife. ETHAN: You are the slayer Janie. You are the one. JANIE is breathing hard. ETHAN exhales with her, they’re breathing together. JANIE holds the dagger away from her body, blade towards her. The camera moves closer to her face. Her eyes snap open. V.O ETHAN: (softly) This is your gift. JANIE lets out a whimper, tears springing to her wide eyes. Her breathing gets ragged and she jerks a little. The camera pulls back as ETHAN supports her, moving round in front of her, cradling her. INT. PRISON CELL FAITH’s lying, tied up, eyes open. XANDER is over her. His vengeance-face is pressed close to hers. FAITH gasps. XANDER: [a grin spreading over his face] Surprise. [he presses her arms back against the bed] Time for bed. FAITH’s chest heaves. She can’t look at him. Her face crumples and she’s crying. Underneath his hands, FAITH morphs into ANYA’s rotten face. Her voice comes out in a growl. ANYA: This is who you are. This is where you keep coming back to. This is at the center of you, Xander. We hear FAITH’s troubled breath but still we look at ANYA. Noises rise up – the noise of creeping insects, of scuttling, the rising noise of strings on the soundtrack and – underneath it all, the rush of water. ANYA: [louder] This is all that’s left. This is you. And me. Forever. The noises cut to sudden silence and XANDER sits back, the camera on him. His face is human. XANDER: This isn’t me. INT. SEWER TUNNEL VOICE: Buffy BUFFY swings round, getting into fighting stance. BUFFY: That voice. I heard it before. WILLOW: Voice? BUFFY steps forward slowly. A red mist creeps round her feet and rises. BUFFY: Angel? VOICE: I am the ghost of Christmas past. BUFFY starts, with a “what the f-” look on her face. WILLOW looks at her, worried. BUFFY glares at the darkness. INT. CONFESSIONAL BOX ETHAN: Each broken soul, each moment of torture. [beat] Each of my acts of chaos—I offer them to you..[smiles] lord. The camera pans through the grill to: DRUSILLA. A smile flickers on her lips as she puts her long thin hand up against the grille, palm flat on the metal web. DRU: Mummy’s VERY pleased. ------------------------------------ --Episode begins-- TEASER EXT. CENTRAL PARK, LADIES PAVILLION, EARLY MORNING BUFFY is walking briskly through the cold air of a pink-sky-ed morning. She’s warmly but (of course) stylishly dressed. Hopeful buds of flowers are starting to show in the soil on either side of the path and birds are chirping. We see an open-topped carriage go trotting by.
As she reaches the shelter, BUFFY looks around and checks her watch. She leans on the rail, looking impatient and drumming her fingers. The man is absorbed with the child. He starts to sing a nursery rhyme to it, quietly, beating time with his finger. MAN: Mersey dotes and dosey dotes and liddle lambsy divvy [the baby chuckles] A kiddly divvy doo, wooden shoo … .ooo. BUFFY looks around, still waiting. Then she looks at the man and smiles. She looks down at the baby, then up at the man, and has a thought. BUFFY: Hey, are you – Mr Nashe? The MAN looks up, surprised. BUFFY shrugs, a little embarrassed. The MAN smiles pleasantly but vaguely and shakes his head. MAN: [Liverpudlian-English accent] Sorry chuck. [raises an eyebrow] Bit early for a blind date isn’t it? BUFFY: Oh. Not date. Blind business breakfast. MAN: In the park? Funny place for business. BUFFY: You could call my business funny. MAN: But, only Mr here is me. And I’m not a Nashe. BUFFY: Actually, I’m looking for a Mrs … Mrs Nashe. Who I was supposed to meet … with her baby … here … and I thought, you … with the baby … being a Mr … ergo … [gives up] there’s a large ergo surplus in my brain this morning. MAN: Up with the lark, eh? BUFFY: Pre-lark. MAN: [whistles] Well, while you’re waiting, come and say hello to our Sandra [he gestures to the baby] She’s just learned how to say bagel. BUFFY comes closer, up the steps of the shelter and looks at the baby, with a puzzled but amused expression. BUFFY: Bagel? Not … da da? MAN: What she actually said was … [makes guttural baby sound] but a proud dad can hear what he likes, can’t he? BUFFY smiles and squats by the baby. BUFFY: She’s beautiful. BABY: Thanks. BUFFY starts. BUFFY: Wait, did she just? MAN: What? BUFFY shakes her head. BUFFY: That whole “city that never sleeps” thing, seems to be catching up on me. MAN: [to the baby] Say ‘ello to … .[looks up] BUFFY: [still blinking] Buffy. MAN: I’m Edge. BUFFY: Seriously? MAN: [cheeky grin] Asks the girl called Buffy. BUFFY: So THAT’s why mom told me not to talk to strangers. Because they make fun of your name. MAN: You started it. BABY: Oh grow up! BUFFY: [pointing excitedly] Ok, that baby just talked! Words … were said. MAN: Hmm … nice of you to get in the spirit, but I don’t think “mph” is a word even for a doter like me. BUFFY stares at the baby. MAN: [oblivious] So, where’s this Mrs Nashe then? CUT TO: ANOTHER PART OF THE PARK A WOMAN is hurrying up a path, pushing her baby. She’s flustered. The baby’s blanket slips off and tangles in the wheels. She stops and fusses and curses over it. WOMAN: I’m already late! Crap … We hear the sound of horses hooves – one of the carriages – approaching up the path beside her. The woman – presumably Mrs Nashe – straightens up, blanket back in place. She’s about to walk on when she hears horses hooves and carriage sounds immediately behind her. She turns and starts to scream as she sees a covered carriage with blacked-out windows coming straight for her. The door swings open and gloved hands reach out, lightning-quick, grabbing her and baby and all. The door slams. INT. CARRIAGE DRUSILLA sits – wearing gloves and a long black elegant dress – with the baby in her lap and the woman’s fresh dead body at her feet. She strokes the baby’s face. DRU: Good morning sunshine. CUT TO BLACK WOLF HOWL, BUFFY’S THEME PLAYS Staring: Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Anne Summers Special Guest Stars: With: Enter myfic challenge: So I said to myself, "self," I said.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04-21-2005, 04:53 PM #2 Join Date: Mar 2003 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- INT. SCOOBY CENTRAL, MORNING The apartment is bustling with people getting ready for the day ahead. WILLOW is sitting at the kitchen counter eating cereal while reading some typed sheets of notes. FAITH is chatting to CLAUDIA and XANDER while packing up weapons in a sports bag. DAWN is putting heavy books into her schoolbag. HUGO is standing by the kettle, jiggling his car keys, watching all the hubbub. The kettle clicks off. HUGO: Anyone else for tea? A few “no thanks” from the non tea drinkers. HUGO nods. DAWN: [trying to fit an over-large book into her bag] Why don’t mystical texts come in paperback? XANDER: Because that would be logical. And mystical and logical do not go together. Not even with the full carpenter armoury – [ticking off on his fingers] mortise, haunched tenon, splayed lap or loose-tongue mitre – and, not a cowboy here, so “superglue” does not pass these lips [off DAWN’s look] What? DAWN: it’s you. The pro with a grip on his … and I’m a grownup so I can stop before I say tools. [beat] And yet. XANDER: [smiling] And yet, a much improvement on the Dawn of my interactive building site-mares. DAWN: Uh … huh? XANDER: She was much too knowing about the … knowing. And that’s – all you need to know. Dawnie. He glances at FAITH, flustered. FAITH shrugs her shoulders and lifts an eyebrow. DAWN: She probably just wore tight pants. HUGO, trying not to listen, moves over to the fridge and opens it. His eyebrows go up. HUGO: Four types of milk? WILLOW: [looking up from her notes] This is a land of plenty … .of milk. HUGO: Who wants what? DAWN: Any but soya. There’s something freaky about milk made out of beans. XANDER: Skim milk. [off Dawn’s look] I’m watching my manly curves. HUGO picks out a carton of milk from the fridge. It bursts in his hands, even though he hardly squeezes it. Milk spurts out all over his shirt. HUGO: Bugger. WILLOW: [offers him a napkin] Oops. Here. Hugo starts dabbing his shirt front. HUGO: Sorry. Don’t know what happened there. WILLOW: Perhaps the cow gods are angry. HUGO: [pulling his wet shirt away from him] In that case, I’m going to say a little prayer to the Gap gods to get their own back. WILLOW: But then the gods of anti globalisation would fight back, and –that can only end with interdimensional instability, entropy, chaos, butterflies and rainforests doing the crazy dance and before you know it there’s a little man in a hat saying … There’s a knock on the door, followed by GILES. He’s carrying a headmaster-sized pile of papers. WILLOW, staunched mid flow, deflates. GILES: Hugo? Are you coming? WILLOW: … probably not saying that. HUGO: Just a sec. [beat] Dawn, do you want a lift to school? DAWN: I’m good. I said I’d meet Anna and Sara on the way. HUGO nods, and follows GILES out. INT. CORRIDOR, OUTSIDE SCOOBY CENTRAL GILES walks out, looking irritably at his papers. HUGO undoes some of the buttons of his shirt and lifts it off. His t-shirt underneath rides up as he does so, revealing a little dark hair and an unexpected need for a taut stomach and well-defined abs in librarianship. Perhaps it’s lifting heavy books. Perhaps not. HUGO pulls his t-shirt down and inspects the damage. HUGO: Damn, it’s soaked through. GILES: Well, I’ve picked up the apartment’s electricity bills for the last quarter by mistake. Into every life some rain must fall … or milk, apparently. They walk to the elevator. HUGO: It just exploded, bloody thing. Wait … apartment – what’s that? GILES: [pressing the elevator button] It’s what I call a flat since I discovered I have to be understood in a foreign language … [presses the button again] and now the elevator’s not working. HUGO: Elevator? GILES: [flaring his nostrils] Oh, bloody funny, Just William. HUGO: Someone tuned his pisstake radar to zero today. They make their way down the stairs. GILES: Perhaps you could skip the pisstakes altogether. Something tells me it’s going to be one of those days. HUGO: Well, I’m expecting a few more pterodactyl moments, at least [GILES glances at him] – new excuse for unreturned library books and non-existant homework … pterodactyls circling the building at lunchtime, swooping down, stealing books … GILES: And pulling legs? HUGO: Quite. And that Dawn’s the ringleader. Little minx. GILES: Well, I wouldn’t take it personally. It’s a sign of affection. The students probably just think you’re “cute”. [beat] Buffy? Buffy is dashing up the staircase towards them BUFFY: Hi, Giles. [smiling at HUGO] Yup, you’re cute. Specially when you’re – breastfeeding? BUFFY passes them and reaches the top flight, turning to call back down. BUFFY: My appointment didn’t show. Collecting Willow and trying again! The fire door slams behind her. HUGO: So – Dawn thinks I’m cute? GILES: [stopping and eyeballing Hugo] Before you start down that train of thought, I’d take into consideration the fact that Buffy can kill you with her bare hands. HUGO: Yeah, but danger’s so exciting. [beat] Don’t fret. I’m more of an exogamein man. Never be a tomcat in your own back yard, all that. GILES: [starts to walk down again] I hope you’re not doing anything in anyone’s back yard, Jackson. HUGO grins. They reach the bottom of the stairs just as OZ is pressing the elevator button. HUGO: Don’t bother. It’s broken. OZ: Oh, hey. GILES: Morning. OZ: Well timed. I was coming to see you, Giles. GILES: Any word from the monastic contingent? [to HUGO] Oz’s box-keeping … or rather box-donating friends. OZ: They were supposed to be here already. And it’s not their thing to be late. Sense of place and knowing the eternal gestures – gets cabs to stop every time. GILES: Hmm … well, how’s your translation going? HUGO: Shall we talk in the car? I think my parking permit’s only good till eight thirty. After that I’m clamped. Or possibly shot, however the cops play it in New York. EXT. STREET A yellow taxi passes BUFFY and WILLOW as they walk along a busy Manhattan avenue. They’re headed towards an apartment block. WILLOW: But, talking one-year olds aren’t totally off the possibility chart. When I was one I … . BUFFY: … was a child genius. WILLOW: So, the baby, what did it sound like? Are we in John Travoltover territory? BUFFY: Mostly, it sounded rude. [beat] Maybe it was possessed. By a – talking demon? WILLOW: Perhaps we should be looking out for Mrs Nashe’s daughter being possessed too? BUFFY: [glances down at her sweater] I should’ve worn not white. WILLOW: Did she give any details of the unusual babyness? [beat] Like – ooze? Or other substances that should not be coming out of a baby? They reach the building and walk up the steps into the hallway, past a bored doorman, and get in the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR BUFFY: Not really. It wasn’t like omigod my baby my baby, it’s head’s spinning round. She was pretty calm about it. WILLOW: Won’t she mind us just turning up like this? After stalkernetting her? BUFFY: Mind, shmind, she stood me up. And now I’m curious. Maybe it’s a demon baby? WILLOW: Aww, cute! [beat] Or evil. BUFFY: Evil things can be cute. Like Chucky. The elevator doors open. BUFFY flicks some lint off her top. WILLOW’s staring straight ahead. WILLOW: Or vampire monks? BUFFY looks up and her “huh?” face dissolves. The camera moves round to reveal a huddle of vamped-out Buddhist monks in the hallway. The monks spot the girls. BUFFY gets into fighting stance and WILLOW stays back, clenching her hands, gathering her strength. BUFFY: Not cute. [beat, to the monks] Sorry guys, but mandals and fangs? [wags her finger] Queer eye for the dead guy WILL be notified. INT. SLAYER SCHOOL LIBRARY, DAY GILES and XANDER are standing over OZ, who has various books open in front of him, as well as an i-mac, and the Chinese tablets. GILES is holding a book. OZ: It’s poetry. There’s a margin for [he gestures a shrug] GILES: [mulling the words over] The box of Red Dawn. XANDER: So, what, Communist apocalypse? GILES: [pursed lips] I’ll make sure I cross reference with Marxist prophecies … XANDER: Ah, the famous Harpo codex. OZ: Maybe Dawn’s going to start a cultural revolution. Burn all the books. XANDER: Nah, Dawn, with books, is getting to be like Buffy with vampires. Lots of lovin’. And what’s cultural about burning books? GILES: [absorbed, flicking through pages] Really, there aren’t many references at all to this box. OZ: The monks kept to themselves. GILES: [wrapped up in a volume] Oh, here … a 17th century text. An occultist called John Stowell makes a reference to … [frowns, brushes the page] No, it says “ox”. Bloody cigarette ash … if Claudia’s been smoking over the books, I’ll send her back to the Initiative with her organs in a bag. XANDER: Giles! GILES: [pointing at the book in high excitement] SEVENTEENTH century. Not only first but ONLY edition. XANDER: [to Oz] See, you shouldn’t talk about burning books in front of the G-man. It makes him scary. [beat] So, to move things away from the disembowelment theme … which, while exciting and lively, is left-of-topic … [turning to OZ] when do we get to meet your senseis, Glasshopper? [beat] I need more kung fu references. This is what living with chick flickers does to you … .and if anyone would like to rephrase that … so what about those monks? I’m thinking nothing but monkish thoughts. CUT TO: HALLWAY OF MRS NASHE’S APARTMENT BUILDING The vamped monks have struck a variety of martial arts poses around BUFFY, closing in. BUFFY: I don’t think you’re trying to free our minds, are you? She kicks out at the nearest, who retreats, with a complicated sequence of hand movements. Another steps forward, again with the hand movements, this time in front of BUFFY’s face. She straightens up. BUFFY: Stop trying to hit me and hit me! She launches a flying kick at him, cutting the graceful moves off and sending him crashing into the wall. Another steps forward and aims a series of karate chops at BUFFY. She counters and they move backward and forward in the accepted manner until BUFFY rolls her eyes, brings her knee up in his stomach, sending him grunting into two behind and back kicks a fourth. She looks on, perplexed, as her first victim scrambles up, turns away from her and runs at and up the wall. He gets about half way up before crashing heavily to the ground. BUFFY hauls him to his feet. BUFFY: There is such a thing as being [running him head first into the same wall] too unplugged. CUT to WILLOW, throwing a stake. BUFFY’s hand in shot catches it, she jabs behind her. Another vamp monk karate chops at her arm, she fends him off and he dusts as WILLOW stakes him. BUFFY stakes the one near the wall, spins around and stakes another. Four vamps disappear through the fire exit doors, the remainder gather in a group in front of it. BUFFY steps forward threateningly. VAMP MONK: The stake is not real – BUFFY: [panting] Not making a metaphysical point, guys – just a pointy – She raises the stake – immediately, they clap their hands over their hearts – and dust. BUFFY: – point. [staring at the dust] I think we just saw the future of slayerdom. WILLOW: [rattled but covering] Full of staying at home knitting sweater sets? BUFFY: Yup. And full of things that are impossible [frowning slightly] except – this morning, just now, I met Oz, coming to talk mystical boxes and – missing monks – with Giles. I think we just solved question one b. INT. SLAYER SCHOOL CORRIDOR, DAY HUGO is walking down the corridor, giving his shirt the occasional shake. He stops outside a pair of doors and listens, then abruptly pushes the door open and goes in. The room is full of shocked students gathered around four girls huddled in chairs, bleeding badly from vicious slashes to heads and shoulders. One is unconscious, another sobbing, on the edge of hysteria. HUGO: Oh my God! GIRL: Outside. We were attacked … HUGO’s eyes open wide in horror. GIRL … by pterodactyls. CUT TO: INT. SLAYER SCHOOL LIBRARY, DAY GILES and OZ are sitting studying quietly. A cell phone rings, breaking the quiet. GILES looks up, then returns to his book, still half-absorbed. OZ picks up the offending cell off the desk. OZ: Buffy. Yes, should’ve been here by now. [pause] Yes. [expressionlessly] No, they – were – regular monks. [beat] Oh. Where are you? I’ll leave now. [He pockets the phone and turns to GILES] Giles … DAWN bursts in. DAWN: Oh god, Giles! Some girls were attacked coming back after the break. By pterodactyls. GILES: [calmly] Yes. The ones that ate your homework. Really Dawn – HUGO appears behind DAWN GILES: [sighing] It wasn’t even that funny the first [off HUGO’s look] … time. HUGO: Less funny now, Rupert. Four girls – they’re in an ambulance, with deep lacerations from whimsical pterodactyls. INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE MRS NASHE’S APARTMENT BUFFY knocks on the door. A little ginger-haired girl of about ten answers the door. BUFFY: Hi. Is your mommy home? The little girl shakes her head. She’s looking scared. GIRL: I heard banging. And shouting. I’m not supposed to let strangers in. BUFFY: That’s ok. We don’t need to come in. WILLOW: Do you know when your mom might be home? The little girl shakes her head again. She’s looking weepy. GIRL: She said she’d be back. BUFFY: Is there anyone we can call? GIRL: I called my aunt already. She’s coming. You should go now. BUFFY: Just one thing … Your mom was supposed to meet me this morning … about your sister? GIRL: [scowling] Oh. Everything’s about my sister. She’s special. With the doctors, and the tests. BUFFY: Special? GIRL: You’re not from the church are you? Mom told me to tell them where to go if they came. BUFFY: Really not. WILLOW: What’s special about your sister? GIRL: Nothing. C’ept – She can lift me up. Off the floor – I got bruises. You gotter go now. WILLOW and BUFFY exchange glances. The girl starts to close the door, but a middle-aged woman bustles up the corridor. WOMAN: Susie! SUSIE: Aunt Patty! AUNT PATTY: [shooting a fierce look at BUFFY and WILLOW] Who are you? [to SUSIE] Get inside! BUFFY: I’m sorry, ma’am, I was supposed to meet Mrs Nashe … about the baby. AUNT PATTY: [cold] Well, I just had to identify my sister’s body at the morgue. So unless you’re the police, you can get the hell out of here. Right now. Even if you are the police. WILLOW: [quietly] Sorry. But I have a question … [her voice is steady and low] When did the baby get strong? Unnaturally strong? AUNT PATTY: [glazed eyes] I … when Janice was pregnant. It was spring … The baby kicked and she … it hurt. And when it was born – there wasn’t enough oxygen. The umbilical cord tangled … She … Sally … she should’ve died … the doctors said … miracle … [she looks again at Willow] who are you? WILLOW: [still steady] We’re here to help. WILLOW inhales sharply and AUNT PATTY relaxes. She looks in confusion at BUFFY and WILLOW, then turns abruptly, opens the door and goes inside. BUFFY and WILLOW stand in silence for a moment. BUFFY: The spell … made slayer babies? WILLOW is staring at the closed door. Hope and anxiety chase across her face. When her silence continues, BUFFY waves a hand in front of her eyes. WILLOW: [wide eyes] I thought I killed them. I heard about babies dying – the location spells kept fritzing out. [she pauses, licking her dry bottom lip] But perhaps they didn’t? If this one survived? Perhaps … BUFFY: [stern] Why didn’t you tell me? About the babies? WILLOW: I’m sorry. With the – and the– This is all so much to – [worry rises in her eyes again] Maybe the others did die? And only this one survived? BUFFY looks darkly thoughtful. BUFFY: Or maybe someone took them. INT. ABANDONED SUBWAY TUNNEL The camera moves down a subway track, unlit except for a glow at the end of the tunnel. As we come closer to the light, we see it's coming from the windows of a subway carriage parked on the tracks of a huge deserted station, opulent with nineteenth-century decor. The subway name “Broadway” is picked out in coloured tiles, decorated with swags of fruit and flowers. The station stretches out in the darkness, a waiting room the size of a ballroom beyond, lined with a succession of huge goldfish tanks and deep red, velvet-covered mahogany pews. The goldfish are floating, dead, on the surface. There is a dusty grand piano in the centre. Pan towards the windows of the carriage, chinks of light showing through thick brocade curtains. Someone's made a home for themselves, and the light that peeks through is warm – candlelight. Music starts up. Light, tinkling classical piano, a music-box quality to it. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE DRUSILLA is sitting opposite ETHAN at a dainty wooden table spread with a lace cloth. DRU is pouring tea. An antique gramophone is playing. The feel is a Victorian drawing room with Eastern influences – hangings and Chinese lanterns, as well as brass candle lamps. A bed with draped curtains occupies one end of the carriage. The only remnant of the original subway car décor are the shiny poles. At the other end of the carriage is a curtain hanging from floor to ceiling, forming a partition. On the table in front of DRU and ETHAN is a pile of crystals, threaded through with string – some kind of hanging ornament. More threaded crystals are nestling on a dresser. ETHAN is uncomfortable. DRU: Would you like cake? ETHAN looks at the table. There is no cake. He hesitates about pointing this out. ETHAN: Tea is fine. DRU: Do you think I'm going to eat you? ETHAN shifts and takes a nervous sip of his tea. ETHAN: It really hadn't crossed my mind. DRU smiles. DRU: Silly. It's humming all through you. Your fear is a lullaby. [she leans forward] You’re singing all through. Singing … and sweating. [she pushes her chair away and retreats, pushing up against a blank space of wall in between lamps and trinkets. She leans her head back] It's whispering down the lines, the station master's calling us all to wave our handkerchiefs. [she looks suddenly at ETHAN, who's resting both palms on the table, his fight or flight responses kicking in, but he's keeping himself seated by sheer force of will] ETHAN: What is it? DRU: [putting her hand on her chest, eyes still on ETHAN] My heart's right there. Not a little walnut. I'm in love you see. [beat] Are you ready to meet him? ETHAN: [solemn] I am. DRU laughs and picks up the crystal ornament. It spins round as she holds it up to the light. She walks slowly, with dance-steps, in time to the music, towards the curtain. She feels the luxurious material with one hand. DRU: Miss Edith died in a terrible tragedy. But we don’t have to grieve her. I have new dollies. ETHAN watches DRU – there is veneration towards the vampire in his face. ETHAN: What can I do, mistress? DRU: [a devil-doll smile on her face] You can hang the pretty baubles. She pulls back the curtain with a violent wrench. Behind it is a circle of ten baby cots. Then she puts a finger to her lips. DRU: But shhh … don’t wake the children. CUT TO COMMERCIAL Enter myfic challenge: So I said to myself, "self," I said.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04-21-2005, 04:56 PM #3 Join Date: Mar 2003 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EXT. HOSPITAL, DAY BUFFY and WILLOW are getting out of a taxi, without paying. The driver, when you look closely, has scales on his neck. BUFFY slams the door. BUFFY: Thanks for the ride! DRIVER: Hey, what is this, a protection racket? I’m just a guy trying to make a living here! BUFFY: A demon guy. And maybe you’re harmless … but call me old fashioned, I’m still operating on a guilty til proven innocent ticket with the demons. The driver scowls and drives off. BUFFY: Free taxicab! WILLOW: You’re a wicked woman. BUFFY: Well, Trawlat demons DO make the sewers block sometimes. So, technically, he’s a menace to society and I shouldn’t be funding his evil activities. [beat] Besides, he took us the long way round. They walk towards the hospital entrance. WILLOW: Claudia said she’d check out the morgue. BUFFY: So, what do we have? They go through the sliding doors. WILLOW: The reports I read said a baby died here in unexplained circumstances. BUFFY: I wonder … is unexplained circumstances now official police code for slayer stuff? WILLOW: It was the same time I did the spell – well, same day, I don’t know about the time. I just assumed. Which I should’ve learned to never do by now. [beat] What’s the plan? BUFFY: We ask what really happened. WILLOW: That’s a cunning and devious plan. Do I need to do the mind mojo? After that woman, I’m feeling … BUFFY: No need. They approach the reception desk. BUFFY pulls out a badge and shows it to the receptionist. BUFFY: We need to ask some questions about a baby that allegedly died here in April 2003. We have reason to suspect it was a kidnapping. The receptionist looks at the badge, concerned. RECEPTIONIST: I’ll page Dr Patterson … he’s the paediatrics expert … ma’am. WILLOW mouths “ma’am” to BUFFY. BUFFY shows her the badge. WILLOW: Permission to talk in your brain? BUFFY nods. WILLOW: [without moving her mouth] Where’d you get it? BUFFY: [ditto] Riley gave it to me when we set up the school. In case we ever needed to deal with officials. WILLOW: And you didn’t show me til now? BUFFY: I showed Giles. WILLOW: Cos that’s going to make me feel less left out. BUFFY: Can we bicker outside my brain? WILLOW smiles. A middle-aged, balding doctor approaches them and they turn to him. DOCTOR: Um … hello? Would you step into my office? INT. DOCTOR’s OFFICE The DOCTOR gestures to BUFFY and WILLOW to take a seat. BUFFY: We’ll stand, thanks. The doctor nods, licking his nervous dry lips. DOCTOR: Um … this is about the Zoe Williams, isn’t it? BUFFY’s eyebrows give a slight flicker, but she doesn’t confirm or deny. BUFFY: The baby that died. DOCTOR: Ah. Yes. Terrible tragedy. WILLOW: [going over to him and fixing him with a steely gaze] Except Zoe didn’t die, did she? BUFFY: You should tell us the truth, Doctor Patterson. And hope your lawyer is better than the army’s best. DOCTOR: I don’t understand … why is this army business? WILLOW: You don’t need to understand. You need to tell. DOCTOR: [sighing] I’m not sure. Hospital security is really tight, you know … but, somehow … BUFFY: Somehow what? DOCTOR: The baby … disappeared. Of course, the ward nurse was fired. But somehow, the security footage was scrambled. WILLOW: That’s a helluva lot of somehows, Dr Patterson. The girls are standing close to him, menacing. BUFFY: Perhaps we should be talking to your superiors? DOCTOR: No … you can see the surveillance tapes if you like … but, we do know that a woman was seen leaving the hospital with a baby. But, that’s hardly unusual … so we didn’t make a connection until afterwards. WILLOW: Do you have a description of this woman? DOCTOR: [nodding] Tall – dark hair – slim build. And, er – the lady was fast. WILLOW: [solemn and military-like] Thank you for your co-operation. We’ll be in touch. Or our lawyers will. CUT TO EXT. HOSPITAL BUFFY and WILLOW are leaving the hospital, still looking official and serious. When they reach the gates and walk round the corner, WILLOW stops and bursts into helpless giggles. WILLOW: Sorry … tension. Not so CSI, just – were you bad cop or was I? BUFFY: I think we both were. I never got the point of good cop anyway. So. Mysterious fast woman … are we thinking … WILLOW’s phone rings. WILLOW: [immediately sober] Hello? Claudia? [beat, listens. She nods] Bye. Puncture wounds on Mrs Nashe. BUFFY: … vampire. WILLOW: The body was dumped at the edge of central park. [beat] Sounds like Claudia can do bad cop without a badge. BUFFY: Or possibly oops my breasts fell out cop, more her style. WILLOW: Resheath those claws, catwoman. BUFFY: Sheathed. Claudia’s a very useful recent traitor.[beat] So … that’ll be a vampire kidnapper then. And, making with the wild assuming that the same thing happened to the other babies … WILLOW: I’ll check that out … no assuming. BUFFY: Then someone might just be building a pre-preschool slayer army. Usual Suspectery points to Ethan. WILLOW: But … how could he’ve known about the slayer spell in time to get to all the babies? I mean, they disappeared PQD after the spell. And the counter-magicks for my location spells, when we were slayer-searching … this is powerful stuff. Unless Ethan has a new special friend. BUFFY: That voice … WILLOW: Voice which? BUFFY: [thinking] In the sewers, I’ve been hearing – and there’s mist. And it knows me. And I’m getting this feeling of all these jigsaw pieces, but I don’t know how they go together. Like, it’s an ages 8 and up jigsaw, and I’m only seven. WILLOW: Even if it is just Ethan [shuddering] Buffy, what he might be doing with babies makes my brain squirm. INT. DESERTED SUBWAY CARRIAGE DRU is watching ETHAN hang the crystal decorations above the baby cots. DRU is humming. She leans over one of the cots and kisses the baby inside. DRU: Aren't you precious? Aren't you a little ball of lollipops and happiness? ETHAN: What’s the plan, Drusilla? What should I do next? DRU looks at him with puzzled brows, a hint of scorn. DRU: You worship chaos … and you think there will be plans? [beat, waving her hand to the left] Not there, that feels … [ETHAN moves the mobile dangly thing that he’s hanging] Ahh, that’s better. That’ll make baby sing. ETHAN attaches the last mobile above the last cot in the circle. Then he looks up at his handiwork. DRU sits down – not at, but ON the table, bunching her skirts around her. She shuffles into a comfortable position, then closes her eyes and rests her hands on her crossed legs. ETHAN: Mistress? DRU: Shh! I’m meditating. I think I’ll become a Buddhist. They taste – so sweet. Incense and rice and all things long ago and far away. She inhales deeply and shivers her shoulders in pleasure at some private thought. Then, she leaps up with surprising vigour, startling ETHAN. They’re very close. He’s shorter than her and is looking up into her eyes. His adam’s apple bobs up and down but he keeps his eyes steady. DRU strokes the back of his head. DRU: Remember, I can see inside, where you keep all your secrets … and I can grant you all your wishes. I’m the naughty fairy on the Christmas tree. [she turns to the circle of cots] I think it’s time for their bottle. She clicks her fingers and ETHAN scurries to the dresser like a puppy. He opens the door and pulls out a glass jar, containing blood. ETHAN: [sighing] SUCH an attentive pupil. [then, serious] The blood of a slayer, killed by her own hand. [beat] With a little pep talk from yours untruly. DRU: [clapping her hands] Oooh … give, give it to me! [she holds up the glass jar and peers inside] Hello Janie, you’re just in time for dinner. My children just can’t wait to meet you … and eat you. [beat, then looking around, her head swaying slightly] She’s here for you. All around. [she continues the swaying, abstracted] ETHAN looks uncomfortable. ETHAN: Can you … feel her? DRU comes back to herself and twists the lid off the jar and takes a little sip. DRU: I can taste her. [breathes in through her nose] And smell her … [looks at ETHAN, surprised] There isn’t hardly any fear … .considering … No salty bittersweet. [she fixes ETHAN with her hypnotic eyes] She believed in you, the little lamb. She thought you would make everything better. ETHAN looks away for a fraction, then smiles a tight smile. ETHAN: And we will … won’t we? DRU: Oh yes. Everything’s going to be wine and roses … and thorns. DRU steps forward and ruffles his hair, then starts to fuss with it, parting it like a schoolboy. ETHAN stands there and takes it, though tension fills his body. She starts to sing in a breathy, distracted voice – an opening snatch of “My Way”. DRU: And now … the end is near … and I have reached … the final curtain … mmmm mmmmm mmm mmm mmm mmm … [she pats him on the head and steps back] Very smart, my little soldier. I think … yes, you shall have lollipop. Come [jerking her head] … DRU leads the way out of the carriage. They emerge onto the platform, the light splashes out in a long strip, just reaching the dark space of the waiting room beyond. DRU stands in it, turning to ETHAN just behind her. DRU: [looking straight at ETHAN] Did your Daddy show you miracles? Did he take you to the circus? Clowns and fire and – [she licks her human teeth] Naked ladies? ETHAN: Can’t say that he did. [lost, but trying what he thinks is a devilish smile] But I found plenty of my own. DRU: Shh! Don’t want to hear your confession. There’s other voices in the air. DRU moves round him, walking out in wider circles as she goes. DRU: He’s been talking to her in echoes. Not his real voice yet. Little Bo-peep, all her lambs. But I found her white sheep. Made myself a black, black dolly. ETHAN: The Manga? She shoots a quick finger to his lips. DRU: Not your business. Mine. You’re not to forget your place. It’s in my eyes. [she runs her nail down his cheek – scratching but not breaking the skin] and under my hands. She takes her hand away and looks round at the station platform, but her eyes aren’t focussed. DRU: [dreamy] Voices. Daddy’s shown me how to use his voice. Just for a while – till he comes home for his pipe and slippers. Daddy’s good but mummy’s quick – sharp as knives. [turning and staring at the fish tanks in the gloom] Why are the poor things dead? it’s all very – fishy. There is no difference to her voice, but on the last word, the water in the tanks begins to boil and churn, no longer full of goldfish but thrashing sharks. Their frenzied leaps dislodge the tanks. DRU turns and walks back, a chaos of water and breaking glass in the background. DRU: Now, mummy has a very important job for you. She leans over him and whispers in his ear. INT. ST. PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL, FIFTH AVENUE, DAY The place is dim, candlelit. The heavy wooden doors open, showing XANDER and FAITH silhouetted against the brightness outside, and a strip of yellow and black scene-of-crime tape across the doorway. FAITH does a graceful kickstep over and comes forward, frowning. Her voice echoes in the gloom. FAITH: Crime scene. I feel at home. She gazes around at stained glass, down to confessional box where ETHAN met DRU, up to the altar and back. FAITH: But church … not so. [A little shiver goes through her] Something bad happened. Yeah, nasty. XANDER: [walking through the SOC tape] Why do they bother? Might as well write “Lame bit of plastic. Please cross.”. Ah, sticky. Ah. FAITH walks forward in a low-key version of her usual strut. FAITH: They’ve cleared it. But keep an eye out. [beat] I mean – XANDER: [struggling incompetently with SOC tape] OK – missed that because of the sudden entrapment situation playing out here. After last week, I’m not in the mood for graspy sticky things. What did you say? FAITH: Not important. [tilting her head at the confessional boxes] Those things … with the grilles … so weird. She comes to a halt. So does XANDER. CLOSE on the confessional boxes in foreground. As FAITH moves away in the background, thumbs in the pockets of her jeans, a metal catchment pocket appears on the outside of the boxes, like a photobooth. XANDER and FAITH don’t see this. Photo strips begin falling, soundlessly. They keep coming, beginning to spill over the pocket. XANDER: Hey, your weirdness radars are probably picking up anything going. And Let us take a moment to absolve and appreciate the confessional box. Compared to psychic personal hell scenarios with the eating of the human flesh, and the running and the screaming … a few hail Marys are a good system. FAITH: [shrugs] We did okay, didn’t we? [she gestures to the right side of the church] You wanna cover that side, I’ll go left. XANDER and FAITH move down the side aisles, FAITH’s heels clicking loudly on the stones, looking at the ground as they go. XANDER: Faith? FAITH stops and looks over. XANDER: All that – and I’ll channel Cordy here – “stuff” – in the place – [he tails off with a gesture] FAITH: Yeah? She walks towards the middle of the church, glancing under the pews, but not really focussing, listening to XANDER instead. XANDER: Everything was clear for about five seconds and then – I keep asking myself questions and [shakes head slowly] not liking the answers. Things I thought were – not great – but okay. FAITH: [wrenches a half smile from somewhere far away] Got it. A lot of crap comes up. Like the girl said, not a place to live in. XANDER: Here is the man whose words saved the world. But, sometimes I didn’t say the words. Words like, Buffy, there’s something you should know about Angel, or, I can’t go through with marriage but I still want to be with you. That last one – it’s not to Buffy. FAITH: Man, I’m your opposite number. Me? It was action – sorta action people got dead from. Maybe they’d’ve appreciated a few words from me, know what I mean? Instead of a knife in the guts? XANDER: [quietly] You can be walking around and still have a knife in your guts. FAITH: [on a breath] I’m there. FAITH watches the altar for a moment. Her jaw clenches, unclenches. XANDER walks down the side aisle, inspecting but not really seeing. FAITH walks down the middle aisle, slowly. They come back together at the door and stand, framed in the doorway. FAITH: If I – find Ethan. What if the hand does the talkin? He wins, right? A good man gets tortured, killed, stuffed into – an’ – I go back to the old ways to make sure he suffers the same way? XANDER: Like the little girl said, not a place to live in? [beat] We’ll help. I’ll help. He puts a hand on FAITH’s shoulder. She accepts the gesture without comment, and they leave. CUT TO: the confessional boxes. The photo strips have overflowed and are falling to the floor with a gentle riffle. On the top of one heap of assorted photos of priests taking confession is Dru’s face, eyes closed, smiling. On the other – Ethan, expression scared but exultant. CUT TO: INT. DEPARTMENT STORE ETHAN is standing in the baby section of a department store, holding up a bottle, looking somewhere between annoyed and resigned. MALE VOICE: [from behind him] Perform every task with all your mind, and you will find peace. ETHAN whips round. A VAMPIRE MONK is standing behind him [in human face], looking at him steadily, smiling. ETHAN: Oh … bloody hell. [quieter] You’re a VAMPIRE now. All that zen nonsense is hardly part and parcel of being connected to ultimate darkness. MONK: [stone-faced] So I am learning. ETHAN: [walking to the counter] What are you doing here? MONK: [holding up a “karate kid” DVD] Never seen it. I thought, if we fight the slayer, we should know her ways. And her references. ETHAN: [smiles] Ah, Buffy. That little madam … she’ll get hers soon enough. The camera pans across the shelves and to the window of the department store. CLAUDIA is standing outside, looking in. She picks up her mobile phone. CLAUDIA: Giles? It’s Ethan. He’s in town. With one of the monks. [beat] Ok, sorry, I thought I should tell you first, before I … [she looks inside again. ETHAN and the MONK have gone] Oh. They’ve gone. [beat. We hear the crackle of GILES muffled angry voice] Yes, yes, I am. [thrown off guard, a tender spot has been hit] You didn’t have to say that. INT. MILITARY COMMAND CENTRE RILEY: Rutger, what’s the intel on our ex-con? RUTGER: None, sir. A few sightings, but nothing substantial. Just visuals. We keep nearly getting a lock on him, but … it seems something’s altering the readings on all our equipment, sir. RILEY: Demonic? RUTGER: Too early to say sir. He appears to have some mystical forcefield. Or … I don’t know sir. SAM walks up from behind them. SAM: Make it your business to know, soldier. RUTGER nods. SAM and RILEY walk away. SAM: What’s the Xena latest? RILEY: Due for a meeting at fifteen hundred hours. SAM: Then you’d better … RILEY picks up his phone and dials. RILEY: Hello. There’s a sudden and deafening sound of high-pitched gunfire. SAM throws RILEY to the ground and covers him, panic breaks out all over the room. But they’re not being attacked. As the noise continues, RILEY glances up, and sees the giant screen is displaying a massive game of old-style space invaders, complete with deafening gunfire. CUT TO: INT SLAYER SCHOOL KENNEDY is alone in a corridor, talking on her cellphone. KENNEDY: Hello? [she waits a moment] Oh. You cut out. [beat] Are you in an arcade? KENNEDY looks around her, then listens. KENNEDY: [irritated] What? Ok. [beat] I have a meeting, I have to go. [beat] Maybe next week. But don’t push your luck. [beat] I’ll call you. She clicks the cell closed and walks off down the corridor, with another glance around her. SLAYER SCHOOL, STAFF ROOM, DAY BUFFY, WILLOW, OZ, LARA, ANDREW, AND XANDER are sitting round the circular table. ANDREW is doodling on a note pad, then breaks off, inspecting his pen. LARA is unobtrusive and watchful, sitting next to OZ. WILLOW looks at them – without staring, but curious. XANDER leans forward on the table. XANDER: So, Giles has something headmasterly to say? BUFFY: I think he had a “Good lord” moment and we need to know the what-for. [Shrugging] And we’re knee deep in “Good lord”, but we’ll make space. [looking round] Faith? XANDER: [beat] She – just went for a walk. The church was a bit intense [looking around]. But not in a killer pterodactyl, dead mother or unnatural vampire monk way, so I won’t be taking the floor. BUFFY: While we’re waiting for Giles, how about some semi formal introductions? ANDREW: [interrupting] Hey, I was thinking, about Oz’s monks – what if they made me six months ago, and the thing with Dawn being the Key is just a carefully constructed fake reality, to throw us off the scent of the true – fake reality – and that would explain my feelings of profound alienation and loss, and the lack of connection between me and my father. BUFFY: [to LARA] I give you Andrew. LARA fixes her strange eyes on him. LARA: Pleasure. OZ: [nodding to her] Lara. [gestures] Everyone. ANDREW: Can we start now? Only, I have a date. XANDER: Fake reality gets my wholehearted yay. LARA is looking at OZ. Her face shows concern. She turns to BUFFY. LARA: The monks. This isn’t like a regular siring. Dan and I were talking – [she gestures to OZ] OZ: It shouldn’t happen. Monk. Vamp. [holds one hand up flat and brings the other across, interlocks the fingers and then pulls them apart suddenly] Not in the same place. BUFFY: [looking at him, embarrassed] Sorry to say it, but they were … LARA: … crappy fighters? It figures. They were good monks – they’re not gonna make yellow belt as vampires. XANDER: But, weren’t they highly trained martial arts guys, before they were – you know. OZ: Doesn’t translate. LARA: It’s like – fire’s powerful, but you can’t run a car on it. [beat] Not the best analogy, but you get me? BUFFY nods. WILLOW: [looking from LARA to OZ, worried] They … they were important to you? OZ: [direct to Willow] My Altheneae. LARA rests her hand lightly on OZ’s arm, smiling warmly at WILLOW. WILLOW returns the smile. LARA: These things work out. The obi-wans get the last word. ANDREW perks up, but sinks back at a look from XANDER. XANDER: [to LARA] It’s like a dog with “walkies”. LARA: [killer hot smile] I can relate. [then serious] But I – none of this is coming together for me. Monks being turned – [shakes her head] it just shouldn’t – [firm] shouldn’t be possible. BUFFY: So far today? Impossible, quickly losing its im. Talking babies before breakfast and all. BUFFY gets up as the door swings open and GILES enters, almost slamming it behind him in his haste. All eyes are fixed on him. GILES: Ethan’s back. BUFFY: [deep breath] Another bad to add to the new steep curve of possibleness. GILES: Not adding. This is Ethan – the pterodacytyls, vampire monks, all well within his capabilities, Buffy. Underestimating him now, after what he’s done – BUFFY: I know, foolish. But this is beyond – Willow and I found out this morning that babies are being snatched, babies created by the Slayer spell, and – GILES: [holding onto his patience] Yes, babies, we all know Ethan’s perversions are limitless, but – The door opens suddenly. KENNEDY enters, breathless. KENNEDY: Sorry – something came up. Babies? She moves towards WILLOW, but GILES is in the way and WILLOW’s expression is all business. KENNEDY: Something about the – slayer babies? Will? WILLOW: [nodding] Tell you later. Right now, plan of action. BUFFY: OK, finding Ethan, on the slayer to-do list. GILES: [tightlipped] Hardly a matter of options – find Ethan, stop him. Brutally simple. XANDER: [quietly] I don’t think we should go after Ethan until we know where Faith stands on this. At least, not go after with violence. And she’ll be a while. GILES: It can’t wait. BUFFY: Okay – Giles, if you want to find out more, go with Kennedy and some of the girls – but keep out of sight. Willow – I need your help here. Ok? GILES removes his glasses, breathes out deeply and leaves, shaking his head. KENNEDY looks over at WILLOW, who has picked up a book and is engrossed. She follows GILES. The others move slowly towards the door. SLAYER SCHOOL, WILLOW’s OFFICE All the blinds are down, the room in semi-darkness. The floor is set up for a standard locator spell, with a large street map, markings and candles. WILLOW is sitting one side, BUFFY crosslegged opposite. WILLOW shakes her shoulders, relaxing the tension. BUFFY: Okay, Will? WILLOW: Just getting ready – to know whether the big rock of guiltyness I’ve been pushing up the hill is gonna disappear – or get even bigger and flatten me. Just hope we see more than one pretty light. That’s live babies. She closes her eyes, submerging in the magicks. CLOSE on BUFFY staring intently at the map, then the map itself. Nothing happens for a moment, then a bright clump of several lights appears. BUFFY: [looking up] Good work, Will. Her eyes widen. CUT TO WILLOW’s face. There is a grid of lines, flaring blue, reflected across it. It doesn’t come from the map. WILLOW gasps, her eyes open unseeing and filled with the blue glare. She stretches both arms across the map, palms open. BUFFY looks at them and then reaches over and grasps WILLOW’s hands. Immediately WILLOW’s eyes close. WILLOW: Don’t let go – till I tell you. BUFFY’s face begins to show the same grid. She closes her eyes. CUT TO: BUFFY in profile, wisps of hair blowing in a light breeze. Night-time. She’s on top of a tall building, knows it is the Empire State Building, looking out over the panorama of lights below. No sound. The camera pans around, showing DRU standing next to her, also in profile, heavily pregnant, her long hands caressing the bump. We hear, but do not see DRU speak: DRU: Daddy’s coming. She turns to BUFFY, eyes bright with unholy exultation. DRU: And you – are in wicked trouble now. She turns back and looks straight ahead. BUFFY does the same. The lights go out, slowly at first, then faster and faster. For a moment there is darkness, then light appears – the grid of flaring blue lines, sparking, connecting and spreading. CLOSE ON BUFFY’s face, reflecting the grid. It goes out. BUFFY’s eyes snap open. She’s staring across at WILLOW, still clasping her hands. WILLOW opens her eyes. WILLOW: Buffy – I’m sorry. But there was something else … oh, and okay to let go now. BUFFY looks down at the burn in the street map. BUFFY: We got the babies. WILLOW: [breathy] Yeah, we got the babies – but then I started to see … a grid? BUFFY: Alternative map of New York, really really Rough Guide to the Big Apple? WILLOW: It wasn’t magicks, Buffy – something else, so I just, y’know, called on some Slayer strength to boost the – signal and – BUFFY: I had a vision. New York, with all the lights – pretty. But then they went out and this – grid – replaced it. Dru was there, right next to me, with – pregnant. [beat] So, the babies, important. They’re part of this big – and the vagueness doesn’t make it any less big – thing that’s coming. It’s not magic? WILLOW: N-no. That’s why I couldn’t keep hold of the grid, not without you. BUFFY: Sort of inflight refuelling. WILLOW: [worried smile] If we describe it to Xander like that, he’ll want to watch next time. But I don’t think you were fuelling me. It’s something – in you. Something slayerly. BUFFY: Then it’s not just about me. WILLOW: But it’s coming through you – I think [beat] I’ll have to ask you to do this again. We need a way of pinning down what’s in your head, translating into magicks. BUFFY: What are best friends for? But, can you put in some solo translation time now? We’ve got the location of the babies … [she stands] So, I’ll go locate. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE DRU is pulling up the covers on one of the baby cots. DRU: Nice and snug. All ready for your feed. She turns. Then there’s a knock on the door. DRU: Come in! The carriage door opens outwards and ETHAN enters with a shopping bag. The monk follows him in. ETHAN: Sorry, I couldn’t stop him from tagging along. DRU: Fill the bottles. Quick! She knows. She sees things you know. We’re like sisters. ETHAN Pours milk from a jug into the bottle, filling it halfway, then filling it to the top with Janie’s blood. The monk watches. He sniffs, hungrily. DRU hisses at him and snatches the bottle and the jar of JANIE’s blood, and clutches them to her chest. DRU: None for you. It’s all for the babies. Go! The monk shrugs and withdraws. ETHAN looks at DRU, expectantly. DRU: You too. Go and play, boys. Mummy’s busy. She turns her back and walks softly to the babies and squats in front of them. ETHAN waits for a moment. Then he turns to go, reluctantly. DRU: No slamming! ETHAN closes the door quietly as he leaves. DRU puts the bottle to the first baby’s lips. It starts to suck. DRU: That’s right. Take your bottle. Above the baby, the crystal mobile starts to glow. DRU: See how pretty it is, my cherub. She pulls the bottle away. The baby starts to cry. DRU: There … now you’re singing. She moves to the next baby and gives it the bottle. The mobile above it starts to glow. DRU: [closing her eyes as the baby sucks] It’s so calming. I feel quite serene. [she opens her eyes and looks up at the crystals] All the city lights. They’re better than the stars. And each light a person waiting for you to come. [gets up and walks in a circle, then to the gramophone] There should be music. Always music. The gramophone starts up. A delicate, simple tune. DRU returns to her babies and starts to feed the next. She sways with the music as she kneels. DRU: And when all the lights go on, and you’re all singing … then he’ll hear … poor Daddy’s not himself. Cat got his tongue and hid it in a box. But she freed him. She looks up at the crystals. Four of them are glowing now. The cries of the babies are rising above the music. She looks at them, fondly. DRU: Daddy’s coming very soon. CUT TO COMMERCIAL Enter myfic challenge: So I said to myself, "self," I said.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04-21-2005, 04:59 PM #4 Join Date: Mar 2003 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- INT. URBAN ART GALLERY, AFTERNOON We’re looking at a trendy, deeply pretentious makeshift art gallery, under the arches of a deserted railway line. Art student hipster-types – baggy jeans, jutting hipbones, ludicrous hairstyles, androgynous to a man/woman, plus some people in more “out there” clothes, looking like they got dressed in the dark backstage at 1940s ballerina grandma pageant – are milling around, looking at video installation pieces. One screen shows a heap of animal carcasses, intercut with images of George Bush and Hollywood explosions. Through the crowd come ANDREW and PATRICK. ANDREW is staring round him in awe and fear. HIPSTER ONE: Stu should get over his political obsession. It’s limiting his work. HIPSTER TWO: You’re so wrong. Politics is drek! We home in on ANDREW and PATRICK ANDREW: Drek? PATRICK: Ignore the made-up words and let’s find the free food. ANDREW: I don’t know … maybe I should be getting back. I have class in an hour. PATRICK: This place is freaking you, huh? ANDREW: [whispers] I just don’t get it. [gestures at the art] All this stuff is ugly … and that guy’s wearing a farm-hand costume. A boy with a large beard and spiky hair walks past, wearing dungarees and, yes, looking very much like he just walked off a prairie farm. PATRICK: Oh, you get it. But, don’t you think it’s funny? [off ANDREW’s distressed expression] Want to go for a walk? ANDREW nods. PATRICK offers him his hand. ANDREW takes it. ANDREW: It wasn’t like this in Italy. People wore nice things and looked at paintings. People had TASTE. Style. Cool people are lame here. EXT. HIGH LINE ANDREW and PATRICK are walking along a deserted and grass-covered railway track – the High Line. They’re passing the blank wall of a building that’s next to the track. It’s covered in graffiti. ANDREW: So, when can I come and see you play? PATRICK: I’ve got a concert next week if you like. Bartok … and you’ve GOT to say that’s cool. [he points at a piece of graffiti. ANDREW follows his finger and gasps] The graffiti is a skilfully drawn, detailed and many-coloured cartoon manga figure, done recently, leaning against an invisible wall. One arm is stretched out, palm up and fingers beckoning, the other protectively across the chest. Androgynously beautiful, high cheekbones, large dark eyes narrowed below flyaway eyebrows, a halo of spiky blond hair. Biker's boots and a long black duster with upturned collar open on a bare torso in a 'V' almost to the point of no return, all the muscles carefully drawn. It's SPIKE. PATRICK: [when Andrew doesn’t speak] What? ANDREW blinks at the graffiti. ANDREW: That’s … it looks like someone I used to know. PATRICK: Is he famous? [while ANDREW stares, PATRICK narrows his eyes] And knew HOW? In the Biblical? [shakes his head] Obviously not, Biblical, cos, ooh, abomination and oops I don’t believe in dinosaurs. [beat] I’m getting a muzzle very soon. [looks closely at ANDREW, vulnerable eyes] Was he your … ANDREW: [shakes his head] He wasn’t my anything. PATRICK: [grins] Tell that to someone who isn’t getting insanely jealous. ANDREW turns to PATRICK and puts a hand on his shoulder. ANDREW: I just used to work with him. But we lost touch … I don’t know what happened to him. And now he's here. On a wall. And it looks … recent. I don’t like it. Let’s go. ANDREW starts to walk off in agitation. PATRICK: [gently, following] Hey. Settle down. Tell me … They walk out of earshot, camera on their retreating backs with Patrick's arm around Andrew. Suddenly they stop and PATRICK's voice cuts back in. PATRICK: … you rode pillion with your hands on his abs all the way and you talked about – onion snacks? They start walking again. PATRICK: That far in the closet, you should’ve reached Narnia, CUT TO: INT. MAINTENANCE TUNNEL BUFFY is walking down a subway maintenance tunnel with her eyes closed. We cut to a flash of the map – the tunnel ahead of her becomes a criss-cross of faint blue-white lines like lasers. Then we’re back to the real tunnel. BUFFY walks forward, slowly, carefully. She stops at a metal door. She opens her eyes and pushes at the handle. She frowns. Then she steps back, and throws a leaping kick at the door. BUFFY: OW! She hops backwards, nursing her foot. BUFFY: Definitely works better on crypts. She pauses, then looks at the handle. She realises something, groans, and pulls the handle instead. It opens. BUFFY: Stupid door logic. BUFFY goes through and finds another door in front of her, smaller than the first. BUFFY: Ok, if there’s another door behind this, I’m going to … . Red mist rises round the edges of the door. The door wavers and disappears, leaving BUFFY standing in a wider tunnel – a deserted train track. Red emergency lights are dotted into the darkness. BUFFY folds her arms BUFFY: Okay, you’ve got my attention … weird red mist, disappearing doors, sparkly maps … .so, come on, what do you want to say? Any evil plans you want to tell me I’m too puny and pathetic to foil? Because, if? Prepare for foilage. Silence. BUFFY: Oh come on, I know you're down here Mr not-so-spooky voice. And, if I was evil, I wouldn't pick Ethan as a lackey. Bad track record of having his ass kicked. Mostly by me. VOICE: What if I'm not evil? BUFFY jumps but holds it in. She turns slowly, looking around. BUFFY: Oh right, you're just another misunderstood ... demon, Being, god, whatever-thing. VOICE: Are those your ONLY choices? What a limited worldview. Thought bigger picture was your thing? BUFFY: I'm blonde and clueless. Clue-ify me. VOICE: [muffled laugh] What, so you can run home to the books and the bookies? What fun is that? BUFFY: Thrills and chills. Thrill me with knowledgeyness. VOICE: I like your nouns. But what's to know? I'm just a guy. BUFFY: No, you're just a voice. Guys have bodies I can kick the asses of. VOICE: A voice? Like you're THE slayer? Still thinking single? BUFFY: I'm a single gal. VOICE: Well I'm not a single man. Bits of me here … bits of me there … bits and pieces everywhere. But soon, everything's coming together in a glorious … and was I saying? BUFFY: As yet? Zip. VOICE: I had my lecture notes here somewhere … How about an off-the-cuff speech? BUFFY: Been there. Done plenty. VOICE: Fashions in Manhattan are so fickle. That's what I love about them. BUFFY: And let me guess, you're the next big thing to hit the city? The biggest baddest most Gucci-worthy evil of them all, come to crush us like bugs? Because if we're talking so last season … VOICE: I never said I was the biggest. Or the baddest. [beat,dreamily] You can feel the city, can't you? Feel it waking up? [the VOICE gives a snort of disgust] And … damn, but I'm bored of this bland little nasal echoing American voice. BUFFY: SO right with you. VOICE: It's just temporary … like everything … But you, Buffy, you're not bland at all. I couldn't resist a little chat or two. A little tease. BUFFY: Consider me teased. Further hints and vagueness will guarantee a slow and painful slay … whenever you show. VOICE: Hold your little charging horsies … A little bird tells me you're not done baking yet. Me neither. But a few more minutes, I'll be feeling quite myself. BUFFY: I can't wait. VOICE: Don't worry. I won't let you get bored. My boys will entertain you. BUFFY raises an eyebrow and looks right. Three VAMPIRE MONKS are standing looking at her, vamp faces on. BUFFY rolls her eyes. BUFFY: More of them? Bulk discount at the easy-to-kill minion store? The MONKS start to circle. VOICE: They're just the beginning. Come on, you know that. The MONKS attack. Close on BUFFY, rolling her eyes. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE DRU walks to the door and opens, leaning out. DRU: Psst! ETHAN starts up – he was sitting on a block of concrete, at a loss for something to do. ETHAN: Yes mistress. DRU: There’s a whisper down the line. The boys need me. There’s a slayer loose in the woods. [she hops down out of the carriage and points inside the carriage] But the girls … If they stop crying, give them their bottle. ETHAN: [nodding, forgetting reverence] Interesting reversal. DRU: [angry eyes] I don’t think you take me seriously. You don’t. You don’t love me at all. She’s up close to him in a second, hand grasping his face. DRU: Be good. Then she’s gone. INT. ANOTHER SUBWAY TUNNEL BUFFY is in the closing stages of the fight with the monks. She brings the stake down, something catches her hand, pulling her off balance and backwards. She turns in the grip and she’s face to face with DRU DRU: Hello kitty. BUFFY and DRU are facing, DRU still holding BUFFY’s arm. BUFFY recovers herself, kicking DRU’s arm away and following up with a punch to the face. The MONKS move slowly away into the shadows, backing respectfully away – force of habit, letting the master be the centre. DRU is reeling, licks her lips for blood. BUFFY: On a citybreak? Or just here for the shoes. [looking down at DRU’s pointy boots, then closing the gap between them with a running kick – which DRU dodges] But, when you’ve got a classic look, why change it? [DRU hisses, raising her arms and pushing BUFFY up against the wall. ] Freaky goth bitch, it’s timeless. DRU: [shaking her head, she tuts] You’re very shallow. BUFFY frees herself, and gets back, breathing painfully. DRU takes a few steps back BUFFY: Just making small talk. Or maybe you’d just prefer to come back to the station and ask us with our enquiries … see what I did there … station. DRU: I see … and I’ll come … if you can catch me. Cat and mouse – [licks her finger and rubs her hand round the side of her face] Guess who’s the cat. DRU backs away a few steps more, then turns and runs. BUFFY: I love it when they run. In heels. BUFFY follows. DRU’s heels clatter ahead of her. Red lights flash by as BUFFY runs. Then the lights grow brighter – a fork in the tunnel is ahead. DRU takes the left fork, BUFFY behind, into the yellow lighting of a working station. A train is pulled in to the station, doors open. DRU leaps up off the track onto the platform, then into the train. The train doors are shutting, but BUFFY squeezes through. They’re in a deserted carriage together. DRU starts to step backwards, snake hips swaying, one foot moving back, then another, in the rhythm of the train. DRU: I won’t fight you here. I can’t see you without seeing – the noise – ker-chunk, ker-chunk – metal noises and grinding bolts … they set my teeth on edge. Zzzzzzz! BUFFY: [pulling a stake out of her pocket] Call me presumey, but that’s the least of your problems. You … me … a carriage made for two … and, stake made for one. And, since you’re insane, I’ll be nice and give you two guesses who gets it. DRU: [right back against the door to the next carriage now] You won’t kill me – curiosity killed the – BUFFY: Enough cats! DRU: [slow smile] Not patience on a monument – but you want to know – it doesn’t need visions to see that. You’re hungry to put it all together in a pile. Piece by piece. BUFFY: Thinking about it in the harsh light of fluorescent – working you for information’s not my best plan ever. But let’s try it. Tell me everything you know. Then I’ll kill you. DRU frowns, puzzled. BUFFY: What? You’re crazy. You don’t get to question my logic. DRU: I won’t tell you a word. [she slides up and down the door of the carriage] HE’s going to tell you all himself. BUFFY: See, there’s some useful intel right there. You and the invisible man – all you need for a league of extraordinary gentleman are – um – Ok, not a geek, so imagine I made the rest of that reference. BUFFY approaches, stake down. BUFFY: Now, if you’ll just hand over the blueprints to your secret hideout, we can get this over. DRU: But you already have them. [looking direct at BUFFY] You know it all, inside. You see everything. [she smiles, rolling her shoulders in rhythm with the train] But you didn’t know he came back. BUFFY: Your he? Different he? How about a name? Or a series of colour coded flashcards? DRU stands up straighter and holds her hands up to her face, running fingers through her hair. BUFFY steps back, tensed but listening. DRU: [whispers] Our knight – you left him to burn. I could smell it, smell the fire when I found him. He was broken and – [hisses, lips drawn back] white. [Suddenly she smiles]. So I made a dolly out of him. My dolly. BUFFY swings to punch, but the jolting of the stopping train throws her. DRU catches her hand and turns it behind her back, slamming her against the wall. DRU: [pulling BUFFY’s hair aside and speaking into her ear] A bad dolly The train stops completely. Doors open. DRU is off and out, BUFFY bounds after. CUT TO COMMERCIAL Enter myfic challenge: So I said to myself, "self," I said.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04-21-2005, 05:01 PM #5 Join Date: Mar 2003 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EXT. SUBWAY ENTRANCE, LATE AFTERNOON DRU runs up the steps with BUFFY hot behind. Pedestrians move out of DRU’s way, but somehow keep getting in front of BUFFY. DRU stops at the top of the steps. BUFFY catches up. They’re standing at bay from each other, under the shelter of the exit. BUFFY: End of the line, Drusilla. DRUSILLA bursts into laughter. DRU: Oh no. I’ve been there. Here is much nicer. BUFFY: Whatever. It’s daylight. Nowhere left to run. BUFFY and DRU are standing only a few metres apart, neither making a move, both watchful. Passers-by barely glance at them and bustle on. DRU: The sun casts shadows. As she says this a truck drives by, and the low afternoon sun throws out a shadow. DRU bolts, hair flying, keeping pace with the truck. BUFFY realises she’s off in a fraction of a second and runs too. We hear DRU’s laughter. BUFFY and DRU move in synch, BUFFY a few paces apart. But the crowds shift around them. Blank crowd faces rush up in front of BUFFY. She dodges, but each time she dodges, another person moves in front of her, diverting her speed. DRU’s path is uncluttered. The crowd moves around her as she runs. Just as the shadow of the truck moves with the motion of the sun above the buildings, a blimp floats over. A new shadow to follow. BUFFY’s way behind, DRU’s a distant figure now – far ahead enough to stop, look back, and blow a kiss, before disappearing in the crowds. BUFFY runs a few paces more and then stops, panting, a sudden stiffness to her as a thought crosses her face. She looks after DRU, then back at the subway exit, now a way behind her. Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her face. BUFFY: Oh no … WRONG direction. BUFFY flips out her cellphone and presses speed dial. BUFFY: Willow. Get the others. And weapons. And plenty of slayers. Dru just passed diversions 101 with top marks. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE ETHAN is making horrible faces at the babies, as they cry loudly. The crystals above are glowing softly. A hum fills the air under the cries. A fizzing under that – a hint of electricity. One crystal sparks. DRUSILLA: [from behind him] Are you being a cruel uncle? ETHAN spins round, guilty. DRU is standing close behind him. ETHAN: Is the slayer … DRUSILLA: [despite the rising noise] Shh! She slips her hand into ETHAN’s – the simple gesture of a child. He looks down at it, no idea what to make of this, then his eyes travel up her and he watches as her face beams in delight. DRU: Ooh oohhh! The lights of the crystals are glowing brighter, lighting DRU’s face and the whole carriage. Blues and reds crackle round the babies, sparks jump. The cries are even louder now. DRU’s mouth is open, soundlessly. INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL BUFFY is walking fast, torch in hand – though red lights dimly light the way – closely followed by KENNEDY, CLAUDIA and a number of other slayers, including CHAO and VI. WILLOW and XANDER are at the rear. BUFFY: [calling] WILLOW! WILLOW trots to the front, by BUFFY. BUFFY: This is right, isn’t it – d’you remember? WILLOW: Yes – yes, we’re on – track. [BUFFY is frowning, unresponsive] Buffy? BUFFY turns. WILLOW: What is it? BUFFY: Something Dru said. [walking faster] Serious diversion by numbers, and there I was Slaying for Dummies , but it was – Spike. [pause] Dru went all vision face – saw Spike in the hellmouth when he – burning. Then she said she made a “dolly”. WILLOW: A bot? BUFFY: Something disgusting. And I don’t know if that’s real – she was probably trying to mess with me. The worst is – not just trying. She did. I keep thinking … [looking ahead] Back to work CUT TO: INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE We’re close on DRU – the light in the carriage is bright, blue, searing. The camera pans round to show the circle of babies, flooded in lines of twisting light. The crystals are acting as prisms now, the light splitting into rainbows. DRU: Did you ever see … ETHAN is now staring at the babies, not at DRU. She squeals, wild delight. The hum and buzz winds up, raising the frequency, then splitting into a high pitch and a heart-slowing bass, and then the lights flash out with an explosive sound. CUT TO: INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL A flash of light snaps through the tunnel, blinding the scoobies. But BUFFY is already running towards it. Then silence and dark. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE DRU and ETHAN are standing silently side by side. Their faces are criss crossed with a sparking grid of searing blue-white lines for a moment. We pan round to see the babies. The grid is centering on them, but spreading through the carriage, like the lasers in a vault. The grid fritzes, then sucks into nothing. DRU: [quiet] Light the blue touchpaper on Guy Fawkes Night … then run! She grabs ETHAN’s hand and pulls him out of the carriage. INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL BUFFY arrives at the carriage, KENNEDY not far behind, then the other slayers, WILLOW and XANDER running up behind. The carriage is dark and apparently empty. BUFFY runs inside. INT. SUBWAY CARRIAGE BUFFY pulls aside the curtain and sees the circle of cribs. The babies are lying perfectly still. Their eyes are staring upwards. BUFFY rushes over to the nearest and feels for a pulse. BUFFY: WILLOW! In here … and … WILLOW and XANDER enter the carriage, they come to BUFFY, stopping behind her. XANDER stares in horror at the babies illuminated by the torch beam. WILLOW: Fiat lux. Soft light fills the carriage. XANDER: What’s … wrong with them? BUFFY: [serious focus] Let’s get them somewhere safe, then we can roll on the theories. [beat, calling] GUYS! In here! CUT TO: INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL BUFFY, WILLOW, XANDER, CLAUDIA, KENNEDY and six other SLAYERS are walking out of the tunnels, carrying the babies away. WILLOW looks down sadly at the girl she’s carrying. She lags behind the others. KENNEDY glances back at her. WILLOW holds the baby close. WILLOW: [whispers] I’m sorry. Then she walks faster, catching up. KENNEDY looks at her with a smile and nods to the baby. They fall in step behind the others. KENNEDY: [hushed, eyeing the baby] She's so still. WILLOW: But, warm. Breathing. [beat] You knew, didn't you? KENNEDY: Knew? Knew what? WILLOW: Somehow you knew … they were still alive. KENNEDY: I … I don’t know. There was this feeling – maybe since the spell. But – [she glances again at the baby] Maybe I did know. But not so I could make any sense of it. The fighting, I can make sense of. But the other stuff – WILLOW: You should tell me … when you feel those things. Not let me read it through the "I-am-a-rock-I-am-an-island" face. KENNEDY: [very quietly, looking nervously ahead] I was afraid … of something … that they were alive and something was wrong … afraid of … of sounding … I don’t know. Full of crap? WILLOW: You’re connected with her. It’s not crap. WILLOW holds the child outward for KENNEDY to take. KENNEDY takes her, a bit hesitantly. Her eyes full of doubt … and sorrow. WILLOW: You're connected with all of them. WILLOW links her arm behind KENNEDY's lower back. WILLOW: With all of us. KENNEDY remains silent for a step or so. KENNEDY: [quiet, pained] Am I? INT. LIVING ROOM, SCOOBY CENTRAL Everyone is assembled, waiting for BUFFY to begin. DAWN between FAITH and XANDER on the couch, WILLOW is standing next to BUFFY, KENNEDY next to her, arms folded, a gap between them. GILES and HUGO are standing opposite BUFFY, CLAUDIA sitting back in one chair, OZ in another, LARA gracefully relaxed on the arm. ANDREW is leaning against the wall in an uncomfortable pose, arms folded across his chest. BUFFY: The babies – have been used. Will? WILLOW: [looking up calmly] Whatever they were taken for – has happened. But they’re okay. Physically. GILES: [voice tight with sarcasm] Perhaps this might be the moment to address Ethan. DAWN: [abruptly] That was me, wasn’t it? The pterodactyls were because of me. BUFFY: Dawn … DAWN: [looking at XANDER and FAITH, her voice getting steadily tighter] The building, urban myth thing. That fed off your thoughts, emotions? Well, this is what happened here, right? I started the pterodactyls as a joke [glancing at HUGO. His eyebrow twitches up, but his face is serious] and the school made it real. XANDER: [firmly] It wasn’t you, Dawn. Not Sunnydale High.The school is just a building, it doesn’t do anything except the usual building stuff. Subsidence, for one. BUFFY: It’s not coming from the school. XANDER: The tunnels then? Another from beneath you? Evil may have all the best tunes, but it’s not hot on the scouting of original locations. BUFFY: [shakes her head] It’s the whole city. The voice I’ve been hearing? The really irritating one. It said bits and pieces everywhere … coming together. Maybe the pterodactyls are part of that? GILES: The Voice? Pterodactyls! Oh, for – [the violence behind his voice draws everyone’s attention]. You’ve seen everything. All of you have been on the end of every magical – HUGO: Pisstake – GILES: [warning glance at Hugo] … and every real threat to – everything – running. Can you still not tell a genuine danger from parlour tricks? Ethan and Dru are loose in the city. The real threat is Ethan, as I’m sure some of us recognise [he looks at FAITH. She looks away, her face closing]. We should be out there stopping Ethan, stopping Dru. Not trying to piece together random events into a mystical conspiracy theory. BUFFY: [firmly] No, it’s not just Ethan, or Dru. And it’s not random. [pause] Not one but two visions put my money on very not random. Angel, with the something’s coming – GILES: Where Ethan goes, I wouldn’t trust to appearances. How can you be sure it was Angel. BUFFY: [firm] It was Angel. I KNOW it was. Not just feel, or guess. I know. And now, today, again with the vision. Dru and the city. Ethan’s only part of this. A miniony part. Whatever it is, it’s – GILES … bigger than anything we’ve faced before? BUFFY and GILES stare at each other. GILES inhales deeply and leans further back, his face softening a little. GILES: I’m only trying to make sure we don’t chase butterflies. Think about this. Deceit – illusion – lies. That’s Ethan’s bloody element. WILLOW: I was there, Giles. Right there with the non-magic light show coming out of nowhere. It was … BUFFY: … like the city was being re-made, but with these lines – of light. ANDREW: [eyes half closed] … similar to the Matrix … BUFFY: … similar to, but nothing like. XANDER: Speaking for the contingent who recently had their head messed with? I feel messed with. I’m with Buffy. DAWN: Me too. FAITH: I gotta slew of good reasons for going after Ethan [fixing GILES with her eyes] but – it’s personal. The big stuff comes first. I’m followin’ you, B. CUT TO: CORRIDOR OUTSIDE BUFFY and WILLOW are walking away from the meeting, calm and purposeful. Camera follows them around a corner. BUFFY turns to WILLOW, CLOSE UP. Her face crumples, the mouth opens, She waves her fingers oh-god-I’m-gonna-cry style in front of her face. BUFFY: I thought it was [puts hand to mouth, takes it away, more flapping], “So I need you to leave. I'm sorry … ” again. Wrong call. Not following Buffy … WILLOW: [face breaking up] I thought – the babies … They break simultaneously into unattractive sobs. BUFFY hugs WILLOW. After a minute, she straightens, deep breath. WILLOW straightens, fiddles with BUFFY’s hair. BUFFY smooths WILLOW’s shoulders. BUFFY: ‘kay. That’s all right then. EXT. THE HIGH LINE, DUSK All is quiet – by New York standards. Car horns seem muffled somehow, this place is an oasis. The sun slips down over the horizon, the last rays make red mirrors of the skyscrapers. Neon throngs round the deserted track like choirs of seedy angels. The sun is down, and the camera pans round to show DRU, standing very still, her hair whipping without a breeze. Her arms are wrapped round herself. We hear heavy breathing, and the clang of footsteps on metal – ETHAN emerges over the side of the tracks, climbing up a metal maintenance ladder. DRU doesn’t turn. She’s staring down the tracks. ETHAN walks, panting and tired, to stand just behind her – a respectful distance. ETHAN: [plucking up courage] Is he … DRU turns sharply, eyes blazing. Then she smiles, hearing something that we can’t, and turns back away from ETHAN. DRU: [quiet] Shhh … We follow her gaze down the tracks. Red mist is creeping slowly towards us, like the avenging angel in the Ten Commandments in full technicolor. There’s a shadow inside the mist, moving at walking pace. DRU whimpers with excitement, but her voice is drowned as a hissing and fizzing of electricity rises. Sparks shoot down the dead tracks as the mist moves faster. Cut to strobed flickering on DRU’s ecstatic face – shrieking and grinding of metal on the soundtrack, wailing up into high tinny registers – a hum of static behind it all – cut to the red mist, which is shrinking to a single point. Almost a solid shape, the mist holds its shape for a moment and then flares out with blinding light into a grid of sparking lines – the dangerous blue of a thermal lance – the distorted sound of fusing electricity – lights whirl round DRU and ETHAN, like a projection of the universe, but with lines instead of planets, a violent 3-D stained glass structure. DRU holds out her arms like a child in a snowstorm, hair flying up with static. ETHAN’s eyes are wide and fearful, his figure bent, but his breathing excited. Everything shifts and morphs out of focus, DRU and ETHAN are obscured in the crackling energy. They flash in and out of sight, DRU’s spinning. The soundtrack cuts out, like a motorised heart skipping a beat then, underneath, a half-machine, half-organic drum and bass distorted hum ramps up, speeding. The grid flashes like the A-bomb and the colours of the grass and sky and skyscrapers shiver. We’re back in focus. All is silent, colours normal, a clear February night. In the silence stands EDGE – BUFFY’s early morning companion. He’s relaxed, eyes closed and smiling, his once-rumpled suit now a pristine white. He opens his eyes and looks at DRU. ETHAN gazes, a boy seeing superman. DRU’s hands are on her face, then running down her neck, and smoothing down her body. She inhales in perfect happiness. DRU: [joyful] DADDY! EDGE smiles like the Joker who got the cream, then winks at DRU. He turns, smartly, and starts to walk down the track, towards the centre of Manhattan. He starts to whistle the first few bars of “New York, New York” as we cut to black. The whistling continues for a few bars over black then … CREDITS ROLL
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