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 - Episode 157: " Mirror, Mirror  " - 

Season 8, Episode 13:(a Spike Spin-off)
Written by: Ferdy-m
Produced by: the Season 8 Writing Team
Promo by: Marie

These events precede "Fairytale of New York"


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.

"Manga Spike" is a horrible aberration on Joss Whedon’s character "Spike" spun from Ferdy-m’s brain. Please ask before using him.

~~~~~~~~~~ Opener ~~~~~~~~~~

Void. Silence. Screen black
Slowly, patches of light appear out of the darkness, moving in complete silence for almost half a minute. Just when nothing seems to be happening, SPIKE’s voice, raw and stumbling, half talking, half singing, comes up on S/TRACK.

SPIKE: [O.S.] Should I stay [long, halting pause] or should I …

The shapes move jerkily, like figures in a dense fog. SPIKE’s voice is a low mutter, clinging to the edges of reality.

SPIKE: [O.S.] … go now?

The shapes sharpen, becoming reflections in somebody’s eye.

SPIKE: [O.S.] If I go …

Widen out to show the eye belongs to SPIKE.

SPIKE: … there will be trouble.

Neon lighting, a silently-bursting firework are reflected in his eye.

SPIKE: An’ if I stay it will be double.

His voice stops, starts again almost below hearing.

SPIKE: Si me quedo es …

Giddy ZOOM into the dark centre of SPIKE’s eye and out again. Night sky, occasional premature firework bursting behind immense old-fashioned clockface of Big Ben, London. The hands are inches away from midnight.

CUT TO: Trafalgar Square, near midnight on New Year’s Eve

Panning SHOT over huge crowd bordered by string of police, boarded-over fountain in the centre below Nelson’s column. S/TRACK loud with bursts of laughter, drunken cheers, FADES as opening chords of early punk track by The Clash "Should I Stay or Should I Go" starts up.

Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I’ll be here ’til the end of time.

The crowd are mostly standing now, waiting, flickers of neon on upturned faces.

So you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

Deep boom in distance breaks in on S/TRACK as Big Ben starts the chime towards midnight, then roar of crowd, counting down.


One day is fine, the next is black
So if you want me off your back
Well come on and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

CROWD: Nine! …

Pan SHOT haphazardly picks up couples hugging, girl falling off her partner’s shoulders to laughter and screams. A conga line weaves into view.

CROWD: Ten … Eleven … TWELVE!

The last chime dies away to the sound of cheering. Following the conga line struggling through the waving crowd, suddenly ZOOM on SPIKE.

Jostled by the crowd, he is struggling to keep his footing. The trademark peroxide hair is dishevelled, dark roots showing, eyes unfocused and disorientated, face sharp and bony in the neon lighting. He pushes his way blindly through the conga line. S/TRACK comes back up with The Clash.

James Marsters as Spike and Manga Spike

Special Guest Stars:
Juliet Landau as Drusilla
Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Anne Summers
Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers
John Barrowman as Jas
Hugh Laurie as the Counsellor
Billie Piper as Sarah
K D Aubert as Nikki Wood

Claire Benedict as Cher
David Byrne as Edge
Rob Cannon as Victim
Sarah Jayne Dunn as Tall Girl
John le Fashnu as Oyu
Jenny Platt as the Little Girl in the Coal Bin
Ken Sacre as Nick
Joss as the Drunk and Blitz Man
"Lilac" and "Limpet" as the Cats trained by rosamunde

This indecision’s bugging me
(Esta undecision me molesta)
… Exactly whom I’m supposed to be
(Diga me que tengo ser)
Don’t know which clothes even fit me
(Saves que robas me queurda)

A couple of revellers, drunk, friendly, grab at SPIKE. CLOSE on SPIKE’s face, empty and confused, then the fighter – but not the vamp – comes out in his face. He grips one man by the neck, shrugging the other away, on the edge of violence, then pulls back and pushes away from both of them. Jerking pan shot follows SPIKE’s head and shoulders, some heads in the crowd turning curiously, most deliberately ignoring him.

Come on and let me know
(Me tienes que decir)
Should I cool it or should I blow
(Me debo ir o quedarme)



Aldwych Tube Station: abandoned tunnel
Light, warm and domestic, from an old-fashioned tube train parked at the deserted underground station floods into a dark tunnel. SHOT moves into the tunnel, panning along the base of the brick wall, pausing on the lower half of some spray-painted graffiti. Manga-style sketch of a pair of biker’s boots with hem of a long black coat swirling above them. Scuffling noise on S/TRACK close by, a man’s voice, gasping, followed by a strangely gentle mewling.

REVERSE shot shows a carriage door opening and DRU leaning out.

DRU: [sing song, swaying gracefully back and forward] Where are you my bad, bad dolly? Oh, mummy had a little lamb, she made him black as … tunnels … [giggles] Mummy told him, do the business quick, no playin’ with the food … now he’s out in those naughty tunnels, bad, bad dolly in the dark.

SHOT reverses back into the tunnel, comes to a halt at a man’s feet, sound of his heels scraping uselessly against the ground. Beat. PAN to show a figure kneeling over the VICTIM as the man twitches against the wall of the tunnel.

POV VICTIM – cheekbones and peroxided hair – flaring out in a spiky aureole – of a fallen angel, expression from somewhere beyond hell, smoothly inhuman. Lips drawn back but not in game face. Spike? – the eyes are not blue, but solidly black, the long coat a dark, designer gaberdine over the bare chest – MANGA SPIKE.

CUT to MANGA SPIKE, right hand braced against the wall, head bent not to bite but with the effort of pushing violently down with his other arm, splayed fingers kneading at the top left-hand corner of the man’s chest.

VICTIM: [mouth wide, little voice] No – no … oh, god.

His mouth closes slowly, his face empties, but the eyelids still flicker.

DRU: [O.S.] Here, here, come to mummy …

She appears at the mouth of the tunnel, comes swiftly up to MANGA SPIKE.

DRU: [gripping him by the neck and lifting him without effort] ’E’s been playin’ … bad, bad bad dolly. Mummy’s first lesson …

DRU sees the graffiti, throws MANGA SPIKE against it.

DRU: [hissing in his face] scribbling, scribble scribble … scribbling. When he was s’posed to be learnin’ his lessons. Playing dirty. little. games.

Where MANGA SPIKE’s duster falls open, the line of a healing scar shows, running down from the top of his chest.

DRU: Left before the bell rang, taught him the first lesson [pushing a long fingernail into the scar and dragging down] it’s the … blood [MANGA SPIKE jerks his head up] Showed him what they’re made of … ketchup with everything … [the line wells red beneath her finger] Doesn’t feed right, wants something else. Told him, told him he wants [she pushes her finger into his abdomen – now that hurts] … this..


DRU: [sadly] He doesn’t talk properly. [puts the bloodied finger against his lips] Opened him up and everything’s there …

DRU pushes MANGA SPIKE’s mouth open and runs the finger between his teeth, stroking his forehead with her other hand.

DRU: Friday afternoon job an’ Daddy bodged him … forgets to bite … taught him about the blood and [glancing down at the VICTIM] hasn’t learned his lessons, still takes it all … except the blood.

MANGA SPIKE: [staring at her with black eyes] Empty – want … empty.

SOHO: Deserted alley, New Year’s Day, Night
SPIKE appears at the entrance, backlit. Noise of revellers, a police siren, mutes to SPIKE’s footsteps on the gritty floor of the alley. As SPIKE walks in, his left hand drops, tips of the fingers trailing against the brickwork. He comes to the end of the alley and halts at some chain-link fencing, eyes narrowed as if he’s not seeing properly.

SPIKE: [quiet, desperate] Buffy …

Puts one hand, then the other, flat against the chain-links, fingers curling, and lowers his head.


Alley at the Final Stand, Night
The rain has stopped, but the gutters are still dripping and the air is full of the debris of hours of fighting. Against the dead end of the alley, SPIKE is lying, face streaked with blood and water, eyes closed, mouth half open. His eyes open, confused, on the silence. He looks up and DRU’s hand comes into shot, elegantly long, and strokes SPIKE’s cheek. She kneels down behind him, dressed in black lace, with a filmy shawl draped over her head.

SPIKE: Bloody. hell … Dru.

DRU raises SPIKE by the shoulders, pulling him half onto her lap. His head falls back helplessly, and he grunts.

DRU: My baby – brought you forth, sweet William, cryin’ in an alley. Needs his mummy. I remember the mummies in the stained-glass windows – pretty blue frocks an’ … haloes, holdin’ the broken son.

She lowers her head gracefully, and holds one hand out, palm open.

SPIKE: [rough mutter] Leave out the theologicals, Dru – you an’ me don’t qualify.

DRU drops him, painfully.

SPIKE: Uhh … argh!

DRU: [eyes narrowing] Came to bring my baby back.

SPIKE: Never your baby, Dru – not in that alley, not in this. Askin’ you nicely now … bugger off.

DRU: Not so sweet, you aren’t … sweet William.

SPIKE: William’s long gone. [grunts] Just me now.

They stare at each other. DRU leans forward suddenly, eyes bright, lips drawing back over her teeth.

DRU: Came to save you – Daddy’s come to save you.

SPIKE: [confused] Angel? He was here an’ – not dusted – just – not here. Where …?

DRU: Not Angelus. Daddy.

EDGE [V.O.] This is a complete faff, princess. How much longer do you want me to keep this fixture on pause?

SPIKE: [his head twisting around] Daddy’s a scouse voice-over?

EDGE: [V.O.] Thought you said I’d take to him, pet? Said your ex makes Loki look like a slave to the system.

SPIKE: (eyes closing, exhausted) Who is this annoying git?

EDGE: [V.O.] Took the words right out of my mouth. [heavy patience] So do you want a dolly out of him or not?

DRU suddenly lays one hand rigidly, not quite touching, against SPIKE’s cheek and looks into and through him.

DRU: [hissing] Smell the fire on you, Spike. Standing and … you let it burn, that sweet flesh, my flesh. All for the s-s-s-s-spark. Mummy sees him. Smiling an’ shrivelling … and nasty, cold.

She whimpers and wraps her arms closely around her shoulders, moving her head backwards and forwards. SPIKE’s face wears the ghost of a smile.

EDGE: Oh, sweet chuffin’ ada. What’s the problem now?
DRU: He’s full of … white bits. Like milk in a thunderstorm. Don’t like the white bits, Daddy.

CUT to SPIKE, eyes closing.

EDGE: [hastily] Howsabout we make a dolly without the white bits? Quick now, darlin’ … Black dolly hmm?

DRU looks obstinate.

EDGE: Black dolly or nothing.

DRU: [nodding playfully] Let me do it, Daddy …

DRU reaches down, holding SPIKE firmly on either side of his face. SPIKE’s eyes open and his mouth frames the word ‘No,’ soundlessly.

EDGE: Here we go. It won’t hurt …

SPIKE arches between DRU’s hands, screaming in agony.

EDGE: [V.O.] … probably.

Camera pans down to SPIKE, eyes closed, shuddering.

EDGE: [V.O.] It’s been a while since I played this gig, manipulating physicality, y’know. But I don’t think we’ve lost the touch on the old skins …

As DRU gets up and goes towards the end of the alley we follow the hem of her dress and back of the high-heeled boots.

EDGE: Can’t stay long now. He looks okay, though I say it myself. Whaddya think?

CUT to: SPIKE, straining around.

SPIKE’s gaze, blurred and emptying fast now, fixes on DRU and a man standing behind her. The camera pans upward – although covered by DRU in all essentials, he is completely naked, water dripping from his dishevelled head like something recently born. Head tilted down, eyes narrow and wary like an animal, he clings to the chain-link fencing at his back with curled fingers and stares back at SPIKE – a mirror image …

EDGE: What are the magic words?

DRU looks around, eyes bright, mouth half open.

DRU: Thank-you-Daddy.

EDGE: Right.

DRU: [glancing down at SPIKE] But, what about …?

EDGE: What about?

DRU: … my sweet William?

EDGE: On his way out of the building, pet. You don’t need him and the dolly.

DRU: My …

EDGE: [exasperated] Yes, yes, all right princess. I’ll put your ex somewhere safe for the duration … but nice and quiet while I’m dong this – easy to get wrong.

DRU: Where, Daddy?

EDGE: [chuckling] My kind of place … primeval void … and darkness covered the water. No more chat, now, daddy’s got to concentrate.

Sudden silence. Screen goes BLACK.

SOHO: Deserted alley, New Year’s Day, Night
SPIKE raises his head and stares at his fingers, curled on the chain-link fencing. Beat. Frustrated, he jerks his hands away, then slams the left hand violently against the fencing, setting it moving with dull clinks. He turns towards the mouth of the alley.

SPIKE’s POV, the outline of the alley is clearer than before, but still blurred. He strides towards the alley entrance and halts, shoulders hunched under the duster, before shaking his head and stepping into the street.

Aldwych Tube Station: abandoned tunnel
CLOSE on MANGA SPIKE’s face, eyes focused, narrowing, on a spot beyond DRU’s shoulder. DRU snaps playfully at his neck.

DRU: C’mon, say more words. [She moves her hands down, pressing hard on his midriff] Squeeze the dolly and he talks.

MANGA SPIKE’s eyes flicker to her, return to the spot beyond her shoulder. DRU grips his chin and forces him to look at her.

DRU: Mummy doesn’t want to look at his nasty black eyes – show me the sky [mutters] He showed me the sky.

MANGA SPIKE: [staring at her] He’s – here ….

His eyes slowly morph from black to blue, glinting but flat like glass.

DRU: [laying her hand flat against his cheek and giggling] Yes, he’s here.

MANGA SPIKE: [eyes reverting to black, focused] Wrapt in desperate darkness/Among the crowds he goes/And he knows … bollocks.

DRU: [pleased] So many words for a dolly.

MANGA SPIKE: Must … go.

He pulls away, but DRU pushes him back.

DRU: Dollies want to play on their own but dolly will get a smack if he doesn’t come back [smears her bloody fingers over his chest] all messy. [staring at her hands, Lady Macbeth pose] All nice an’ bloody.

Soho: New Year’s Day, Night
SPIKE emerges from the alley and is immediately jostled by passing revellers. He comes up to a group spraying each other enthusiastically with plastic streamer from cans. The young woman with her back to him is Buffy’s height and slender build, with bouncy blonde hair escaping from a loose chignon. Hesitantly, SPIKE puts his hand on her shoulder.

SPIKE: Buffy …?

She swings around. She’s not Buffy – or more a mixture of Buffy and Faith. Come-hither eyes and flyaway eyebrows, a full figure under a short leather jacket, tight jeans, high-heeled tan boots and – because it’s January in England after all – a fluffy mauve and pink angora scarf. SARAH’s voice is pure Essex girl.

SARAH: Wha –?

SPIKE drops his hand, backs away.

SPIKE: Sorry.

SARAH: Sorry …

The English mantra. SPIKE stands staring for a moment, then plunges back into the crowd.

SARAH: Did that bloke with the cheekbones just say I was buff? Nick?

NICK, dark-haired, mid-20s, adjusts his reindeer-antler headband and sobers a bit.

NICK: Nice coat. Ask him – jus’ ask him.

TALL GIRL, drunk, cut-glass Sloane accent, sprays them with more plastic streamer.

TALL GIRL: Sad, bloody sad [beat] Twenty minutes an’ already … lost best chance this year of bloody eternal love with [shakes can impatiently] … cheekbones.

SARAH: [cheerfully] Oh, yeah? … [her cellphone goes off] Jas? Wha – ah, bless you, poor old ponce – sure, stage door – be there. [cupping hand over the cell] It’s Jas.

NICK: [muttering] The not very famous ac-tor …

SARAH: [back on cell] ’Course – big, smoochy snog to Daz and Gaz, nyughh … just pickin’ the fur out of my teeth, pardon.

She closes the cell, giggling.

SARAH: Off to help Jas celebrate. Nick – get her home? I’ll walk down to the Olivier, quicker.

She hugs NICK

NICK: [quietly] What if she’s one of your new punters and – y’know, sticks her teeth into my neck.

SARAH: [snorting] Dream on in your shorts. Just cos a girl’s got height and scarey hair doesn’t mean she’s the evil undead – just got good attitude.

They exchange a look and turn to stare at her.

TALL GIRL: [slurring] You a’right?

NICK: Sarah can look after herself.

As SARAH walks away from them, something about the way she moves reminds you of Buffy.

Olivier Theatre, South Bank, Night
PAN from frontage of the Olivier Theatre, closed, with the display lighting on, around to the back, stopping opposite a stage door. JAS is leaning on the door jamb, peering out occasionally. A custom Harley-Davidson motorbike (Screamin’ Eagle V-Rod) is parked illegally opposite, black bodywork and chrome picking up the muted alley lighting. There is a "For Sale" sign taped to it. JAS is American, mid-twenties, dark, good-looking and aware of it – a white short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans prove that the gym sees a lot of him. He’s shivering.

JAS: C’mon pussy, do the business and come back to homestead. Oh puss, puss, pussy …

He breaks off as MANGA SPIKE comes into shot, one hand holding the high-necked gaberdine duster closed over his chest, backlit hair flaring brightly. JAS pushes his hip out a tad more and folds his arms, giving the pecs a workout. MANGA SPIKE smiles at him.

MANGA SPIKE: Lookin’ for pussy?

JAS: [cheerfully bluff] Hey, I’m freezing my cojones off out here while it pees in the woods.

MANGA SPIKE: Pussies for you.

Their glances meet and hold.

JAS: Love having the little darlings around, you understand, but not my idea of excitement. For that …

MANGA SPIKE holds the look, then his glance slides away to the motorbike.

MANGA SPIKE: Get your leg over?

JAS: [pushing himself away from the door] Interested?


JAS: Yeah, "mounting excitement" for sure – 1250cc, 10 per cent extra torque – nothin’ to blush for. They say … [the cat, a long cream-coloured Siamese, streaks past his legs] you definitely feel the difference in the seat of your pants.

MANGA SPIKE: [glancing at the cat] There goes your pussy.

JAS: [smiling at MANGA SPIKE] Never mind the pussy. You wanna come in and – talk about the bike? It’s a hard-tail V-Rod.

MANGA SPIKE: [direct stare] Like a hard tail.


Backstage corridor dimly lit

Behind JAS, MANGA SPIKE releases the edges of the duster but keeps the scar covered.

JAS: Hard tail’s a bumpy ride, but compared to the soft tail …

The cat emerges from a dressing room and sits watching them. Its partner, another Siamese, comes to the door and miaows plaintively.

JAS: Okay if I just ring a friend, she was coming over but if we’re discussing the bike …?

He turns to MANGA SPIKE behind him, who nods, still smiling. The cat miaows louder.

JAS: Wants feeding. Say, are you hungry?

MANGA SPIKE [smile fading away] Yes. Hungry.

JAS’s smile fades in response.

JAS: What are you desperately seeking, blondie?

MANGA SPIKE: Lookin’ for a bike?

JAS: [laughing] Sure? Apart from the bike, then.

MANGA SPIKE: Looking for – me. [pause] Find myself?

JAS: [shakes his head, smiling] Man, you should try my gig sometime – acting. [taps the top of his chest] I got about fifty people in here, last count. [raises an eyebrow] Tell you what – you get your pick of them later – your choice.

MANGA SPIKE steps forward until they’re standing close.

MANGA SPIKE: [leaning forward] All of them.

CUT to: cats, one fleeing back into the dressing room, the other arching its back, hissing. [O.S] JAS yells, then begins to scream, thumps and shoes scrabbling on the floor, choking trails off into the strange mewling noise. The cat in the corridor hisses harder, tiny teeth showing.

CUT to: MANGA SPIKE arched over the slumped figure of JAS – arm across the chest, gripping the top left-hand corner, other arm braced against the wall. His expression is violently hungry. He lifts his head, considering, then tilts it to one side and morphs into game face, lowering the fangs to JAS’s neck.

CLOSE on cat, hissing harder, moving forward.

CLOSE on MANGA SPIKE out of game face, mouth bloody. Beat. He wipes his mouth with an expression of revulsion and unsatisfied hunger, turns and sees the cat. His expression focuses, and he lunges suddenly.

CUT to: cat in dressing room, hunched, belly on floor, teeth showing soundlessly. S/TRACK: cat mewling, MANGA SPIKE’s intensely amused chuckle, a very faint scrabbling of claws, then silence.

SHOT follows the CAT out the dressing room, moving slowly out into the corridor, past paws and the tip of a tail on the floor and then JAS’s motionless legs, picking its way through blood.

… Stage Door, EXT.
MANGA SPIKE emerges, outlined against the light – then the alley lighting picks up his hands, smearing the cat’s blood messily over his chest. He closes the duster, strides across the alley to the motorbike and throws his leg across the seat, kicking away the side support.

… Olivier Theatre, frontage
SARAH walks across the frontage and turns towards the alley – suddenly filled with the roar of a motorbike’s exhaust and an intense headlight beam. The Harley powers out in a sweeping curve, rapidly moving out of shot, but not before MANGA SPIKE, crouched over the handlebars, turns his head and smiles directly at her.

… Stage Door, EXT.
SARAH runs up, swings around and stops in the doorway. Reaction shot.

SARAH: Jas, what the f – [puts her hands over her face and pulls them down again, eyes closed] Vampire.

Embankment, Hungerford footbridge
CLOSE on SPIKE. He still looks as if he’s clinging to the edge of sanity. He is standing at the Embankment end of the Hungerford footbridge with a glimpse of a giant floodlit wheel, the London Eye, through the high-tech metal sculpture of the bridge’s supporting struts and cables. Across the Thames the lights of the South Bank stretch away in the distance.

From the middle of the bridge, some revellers are wending a drunken way across, a riverboat passes by underneath and the last fireworks go off. People are beginning to disappear.

SPIKE approaches slowly from the end of the bridge. Figures come and go in the foreground, but he’s almost halfway before SHOT shifts to a figure in the foreground, leaning on the rail. Wisps of blonde hair, escaping from a loose chignon – it’s BUFFY, inappropriately dressed for the beginning of an English January in the clothes she was wearing at the club in Rome where SPIKE last saw her. REACTION SHOT, SPIKE’s face clenches and he walks faster. He runs the last few yards and by the time he reaches BUFFY, the sky flooded with romantic moonlight, a starry Californian night replacing the murky London darkness.

Living a dream – his dream – SPIKE accepts the inappropriate scenery. BUFFY turns, tucking tendrils of hair away, and smiles.

SPIKE: Buffy …?

BUFFY rolls her eyes, "Duh" expression.

SPIKE comes up beside her and grips the rail with both hands, struggling with his feelings.

BUFFY turns and stares out at the Thames in the soft Californian moonlight, a corner of her mouth twitching, waiting.

SPIKE: Buffy, luv [swings away from the rail and back again] … I never thought … [jerks his head backward suddenly, unable to look at her directly] Seen the Eye? Big floodlit job, size of a bloody … just over there …

He puts a hand over his face and takes it away. BUFFY gives him a glance, warm but clearly, "Get on with it, Spike".

SPIKE: Yammering – it’s just – seein’ you. Look …

He turns so they are both looking out over the Thames.

SPIKE: Bloody point is – Dru’s been messin’ with things – me – made something, out there with my face on it. Don’t know what it is, Buffy but it’s bad and perhaps she made it up, her and the scouse git she … [his voice drops] or it could be me. Part of me. Could be worse than I ever thought …

He pushes against the rail, eyes closed, trying to drag the words out.

SPIKE: Gotta keep away from you, luv. If it gets to you …

He opens his eyes and drags his head around … BUFFY isn’t there. A police siren wails on shore, one of the last fireworks goes off.

SPIKE puts his head down and pushes violently against the rail, back and forwards, keeping his eyes shut. When he opens them a man is standing watching him. The COUNSELLOR is tall and thin with a clever, well-meaning expression struggling between superiority and a permanent apology for his own existence.

COUNSELLOR: [very calm, talking very carefully] Many people find New Year’s Eve a very – difficult time.

SPIKE glances at him from the end of narrowed eyes, pushing away from the rail and starting to walk back to the Embankment.

SPIKE: An’ having some poncy twat takin’ the piss doesn’t help.

The professional COUNSELLOR has no option but to walk with him.

COUNSELLOR: You seemed to be struggling with some kind of …

SPIKE: Deciding …

COUNSELLOR: [even calmer] … whether to jump?

SPIKE: [thoughtfully] No … [flicking a glance at him and away] whether to tear your head off and throw you in there.

COUNSELLOR: That’s understandable.

SPIKE: When I say "tear your head off …"

COUNSELLOR: I’m here to help.

SPIKE: Can’t I talk to ... [his mouth tightens] people who aren’t there ... without getting help? Who are you anyway – Samaritans?

COUNSELLOR: [offended] They do a very good job of course, but no, we are a small group of highly qualified professional counsellors ...

SPIKE: [lifting an eyebrow] ... who come out an’ hang around suicide spots waiting to annoy people?

SPIKE stops, folds his hands under his armpits, and takes a deep, unnecessary breath.

SPIKE: Oh bollocks – okay [he starts walking fast – the COUNSELLOR hurries to keep up] The last time I left the bloody building …

COUNSELLOR: You’ve tried to – before?

SPIKE: Didn’t go into that alley plannin’ to get my card punched, mate. [eyes narrowing] Mind, when I saw the bloody dragon … wasn’t exactly lookin’ forward to going up in flames again, y’know?

He lifts one eyebrow and nods at the COUNSELLOR.

COUNSELLOR: [calm and reasonable] You feel you’ve faced – the fire – a transforming experience? Rebirth possibly?

SPIKE: That was the time before and – mainly I was transformed into a pile of ash. And birth – been dead longer than I can remember. Just been more dead some times than others.

COUNSELLOR: [calm smile slipping slightly] This sense of trial, er – a search for redemption?

SPIKE: [shrugging] You’d have to talk to Angel for that – if you can reach him.

COUNSELLOR: You have an angel?

SPIKE: No, no … moody bugger, dark, large forehead, bigger than me but not as toned. Purgatory in Angel’s book is a hundred years of rats in the gutter and then you get wall to wall Vipers and a penthouse suite … and bloody agonise about it every two minutes.

COUNSELLOR: You talk with an unusual sense of – not a word I’d normally use but – soul.

SPIKE: [flicks a glance at him] Should do, took enough trouble to get it.

COUNSELLOR: You feel your – soul – has been under threat recently?

They have reached the end of the bridge. SPIKE stops at the top of the steps and looks down.

SPIKE: There was … nothing there. Wherever that scouse git sent me …. don’t know how long I’ve been there [laughs quietly] … wasn’t sure by the end whether I soddin’ existed. But when I turned up here it was like …

He starts suddenly down the steps, holding his arms out.

SPIKE: … waking up after she’d cut the hands off.

The COUNSELLOR stares at SPIKE’s hands. The smile falls off his face completely.

SPIKE: Could feel my soul but – didn’t know if it was really there or tendons – memory of it … don’t know if we’ve both got it – me and the other one …

He looks at the entrance to the Tube beside them, shrugs, moves towards it.

SPIKE: Gotta go … find myself.

CUT to: middle of Hungerford footbridge. In the distance, roar of a motorbike’s exhaust under extreme pressure, a headlight jolting and flickering at the South Bank end of the bridge.

The bridge begins to jerk. With a metallic crash and thump that sets the supporting struts tremoring, a motorbike appears on the bridge and begins to pick up speed again. The roar of the exhaust echoes across the water, adding to the screams of passers-by. The headlight flickers wildly, then steadies. The V-Rod comes abreast, a gleam of peroxide hair, MANGA SPIKE glancing sideways.

CUT to: Embankment end, the motorbike crashes crazily down the steps. MANGA SPIKE runs it down to the Embankment, cuts the motor and leaps off. He stands still for a moment, then, smiling, goes into the Tube station.

CUT TO: middle of the bridge.

SARAH, face shocked and determined, appears from the South Bank end and passes, running at slayer speed.


The CAT streaks past.
Trafalgar Square, London on New Year's Eve and Spike has to "find himself" in Mirror, Mirror

Last edited by ferdy-m : 11-28-2005 at 12:18 PM.

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11-01-2005, 06:39 PM #2
outside the box

Join Date: Jun 2004
Location: here's looking at you, luv
Posts: 1,308
Gender: Female
Reputation Points: 116



Embankment Tube station: Circle Line platform
Tired and drunken revellers are making their way home on autopilot. Some passengers are sleeping it off on the seats among the debris of New Year’s Eve celebrations – otherwise the platform is bare under the dim flourescent lighting. SPIKE comes onto the platform, gazing around slowly. The next train comes in with a clattering electric hum, stops, and he gets in the last carriage. The hum ramps down and the train waits in ticking silence.

The driver and guard get out from opposite ends and walk over to another team waiting in the middle of the platform. The new DRIVER is black, tall and well-built, late 20s, the new GUARD is a middle-aged black woman, not much taller than Buffy, with a smooth, pleasant face wearing a stern expression.

DRIVER: [grunts] We got the old stock tonight.

GUARD: We got a heap of old rubbish all round, but you jus’ fix your thoughts on the money come end of the month.

DRIVER: Call quick if anyone gives you any crap, Cher.

CHER: [grumbling] I’m not taking no rubbish tonight. Had enough of that with the kids – she lettin’ them watch "Eastenders" you know? [guttural cough]

DRIVER: Sharon got together with Den?

CHER: [disapproving] Him her father.

DRIVER: No – young Den.

CHER: He her brother. That rubbish not suitable for young minds.

She goes into the last carriage.

The train ramps up and leaves the station ...

A graffiti has appeared on the platform wall, sketchy but recognisable, of MANGA SPIKE. It may or may not have been there before. SARAH, bursting onto the platform, doesn’t see it. She takes out her cell, looks around in exasperation and starts pacing up and down. The next train arrives and she gets on.

The train leaves ...

The CAT comes onto the platform. It goes straight to the graffiti and pads in front of it in a semi-circle, hissing.

Circle Line: Last carriage
The carriage is far from shiny – old-fashioned and almost empty but for half a dozen passengers, SPIKE, slumped in his seat, staring sightlessly ahead, and CHER at the guard’s station, separated only by a bar across the seats from the rest of the carriage.

CHER stares at SPIKE’s sharp profile then turns to the panel and switches on the intercom. She speaks in an African dialect which is marked by the sound like a guttural cough, switching into english.

CHER: ... the undead who came to get his soul.

She turns back and stares at SPIKE.

Tunnel of cave in Africa
Firelight flickering on stone walls. In the darkness between torches, drawings leap out, some crude sketches, some too detailed – demons, beasts, and human figures going through graphic horror. Halt on two or three that could be SPIKE’s trials. Moving on, four African men in a mixture of western and traditional dress appear, and almost hidden in the middle, CHER, in full traditional dress, arguing loudly in dialect.

CHER: You oobies – you give him plastic next time.

The men shut up. This woman has – if not respect – authority when she chooses to use it.

They come out into a small cave lit by battery-operated lamps – no fire here. The DRIVER, crouched against the wall in chinos and an open-necked African print shirt, gets up when CHER comes in, the others standing behind her.

DRIVER: Cher ...

CHER: [grumbling low in her throat] Oyu – what you been doin’ with this stupidity? You heard the stories of the last one.

She rakes them all with that unexpected look of authority, coming back to a figure in the corner chained to the cave wall. It is SPIKE. He is a mess, the top-left corner of his bare chest worst of all.

CHER goes forward and crouches in front of him. SPIKE jerks away, eyes open but unfocused. CHER picks some broken shards of crockery covered in blood off the cave floor and grips SPIKE’s chin firmly, waving the shards in front of his face.

CHER: You are one stupid undead, you know?

SPIKE focuses on her with the expression of someone struggling to escape from his own head.

CHER: [grunts]Oobie – you think you cut it out of you?

CHER drops the shards and clicks her fingers. Somebody puts a bottle of water and a cloth down beside her.

CHER: [muttering as she soaks the cloth] You think it lives here?

SPIKE lunges back as she touches the wound at the top of his chest. OYU moves forward, then back at a gesture from CHER.

CHER: What your name? [SPIKE shakes his head] What your name?

OYU: Spike.

CHER: [annoyed grunt] He tryin’ to dig holes in himself then. [to SPIKE] Stupid undead, what are you?

SPIKE: [head lowered] Want to ... split ... myself.

CHER: Not lettin’ you do that – the first one tried – not lettin’ you.

SPIKE looks up with a glimmer of the old Spike.

SPIKE: One ... before me?

CHER: You think you the only undead come to get his soul here?

SPIKE: [focusing] Yeah.

CHER: [firmly] You so wrong, oobie. Four hundred years back ...

SPIKE: [muttering] Well, long time ago.

CHER dabs at SPIKE’s bloody chest like a mother cleaning a grazed knee, looking into his eyes intently.

CHER: [roughly] You want to go now ... you want it real bad, but you gotta stay.

SPIKE throws his head back and screams with a force that has nothing to do with the wound in his chest.

SPIKE: No! ...

Circle Line: Last carriage
SPIKE turns his head, aware of CHER’s gaze, glances at her and away again.

S/TRACK: The Clash

Should I stay or should I go now
Should I stay or should I go now
If I go there will be trouble
An’ if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know ...

CUT to: Embankment Tube station: Circle Line platform
The CAT is backing up, hissing at the graffiti. A biker’s boot comes into shot, pans up to MANGA SPIKE. He looks around the platform, ignoring the CAT, and smiles with confident amusement.

Circle Line: Last carriage
SPIKE stares at the window opposite. The tunnel walls flash behind the glass darkly and he has no reflection.

This indecision's bugging me
(Esta undecision me molesta)
If you don't want me, set me free
(Si no me quieres, librame)
Exactly whom I'm supposed to be
(Diga me que tengo ser)
Don't know which clothes even fit me
(Saves que robas me queurda)
Come on and let me know
(Me tienes que desir)
Should I cool it or should I blow
(Me debo ir o quedarme)

The carriage is jolting, screeching as it passes over bad points. Sitting two along from SPIKE, a nice-looking man, mid-30s, in an unfortunate overcoat, leans towards him with the freedom of the only-drunk-once-a-year.

DRUNK: Y’ know ...

SPIKE turns his head slowly, narrows his eyes and looks away again.

DRUNK: ... this ish ... thish the oldest part ... of the lunnon unnergroun.

SPIKE: I know. I saw them building it.

The DRUNK shuts up. As they draw into Tower Hill station he drags himself upright and struggles out of the doors.

Another person gets out and ... a little girl comes in. She sits next to SPIKE and looks him directly in the face. She is solid, but shot in monochrome, which gives her a not-quite-there look.She has long straight hair like Dawn’s, pleated skirt, white blouse, grey sweater with two little pockets, short socks – the shabby, black and white uniform of a child in the 1940s. SPIKE stares back, his eyes widening with recognition.

Spike’s Crypt
SPIKE’s POV of DAWN’s face, sitting crosslegged opposite on the tomb, as she listens to the tale of the little girl in the coal bin. She is fascinated, lamplight catching every change of expression. DAWN talks without sound, the scene overlaid with the hum of the Tube train.

Circle Line: Last carriage
SPIKE stares at the little girl. She pushes the curtain of hair aside, and this is a detail that SPIKE didn’t share with DAWN – her neck is not only bitten but torn as if by an animal. She looks at him with desperate hatred.

Backyard, London, the Blitz
Shabby, brick-built East End terraced house, back door painted brown with windows taped against explosion and black out curtains behind. The coal bin juts out from the main wall. The door crashes open to the sound of screams, cut off, from inside, and SPIKE bursts out into the dark yard. He is sharply dressed in a spiv’s tightfitting dark suit, slicked-back hair, blood around his mouth, looking like a feeding shark in somebody’s goldfish pond.

DRU’s voice, petulant with impatience, comes from inside the house.

DRU: Come out, come out ... we haven’t finished, not nearly finished. Need a little morsel ... a little sweet to finish.

SPIKE: [coming out of game face] Easy, Dru – I’ll find your little morsel.

His left hand is resting on the coal bin. Beat. SPIKE.wrenches the lid open. The LITTLE GIRL looks up into SPIKE’s face. He leans over and pulls her out and she immediately grabs him around the waist, hugging him and starting to cry. SPIKE begins to look uncertain, his expression closes down.

LITTLE GIRL: Are they all right? Mum and dad ... that lady came an’ ... are they all right?

SPIKE nods, puts a finger to his lips.

DRU: Spike, want my little sweet ...

The LITTLE GIRL opens her mouth to scream, SPIKE clamps his hand over her face.

SPIKE: Shut up – bloody shut up ...

She wrenches away from him and screams loudly. He stares at her, looks to the door, back again. Beat. He morphs into game face and strikes down, O.S. The screams of pain and sound of the struggle carry on for half a minute. DRU appears at the door in a stylish 1940s tailored suit and SPIKE comes back into SHOT, out of game face. He is breathing jerkily and unnecessarily.

DRU: Oh, he took it all [pouts] ... nothing left for mummy.

SPIKE shakes his head, turning away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

SPIKE: ... carried away.

DRU: [whining] I don’t loike it here, Spike ... they all taste thin.

SPIKE: It’s rationing, luv.

DRU: They taste funny Spike, with ... bravery an’ stoicism and enduring things ... makes my tummy hurt.

SPIKE: [face turned away] Let’s give the Smoke a miss, luv – go over to Europe. Nice gestapo, fascists. Not noble, you’ll like them. You’re right, luv, this place smells of ... mission.

DRU giggles.

Circle Line: Last carriage
LITTLE GIRL: Give them back. You took them from me – you took me!

SPIKE shakes his head slightly. She reaches forward and grips his t-shirt under the duster.

LITTLE GIRL: Give back what you took from me.

SPIKE’s eyes are fixed unflinchingly on her face, but his mouth opens and his face fills with pain as the little fingers dig through the t-shirt into his midriff, pulling at the flesh beneath.

SPIKE: Can’t – give them back, luv. They’re gone ...

His mouth clenches, her fingers dig deeper and harder, blood running over her hand.

SPIKE: I can’t give you back – you take every bit of me and I can’t give you back ...

He breaks off, her hand withdraws, empty. SPIKE rocks forward, eyes closed, hand clenched over his midriff. When he looks up, the LITTLE GIRL has gone. CHER is standing by him.

CHER: You all right?

SPIKE: The little girl [looking up, confused] ... where did she go?

CHER: Didn’t see no little girl.

SPIKE: So who did this?

He presses his hand, wincing, against his midriff and brings it away bloody.

CHER: Looks like your past payin’ a call on you, Spike.

SPIKE: You ... you know me?

CHER: Gotta get back to the station.

She jerks a thumb at the guard’s board and walks back, SPIKE following slowly and carefully. He slumps down in the seat nearest her.

CHER: Know you from when you came to the Cave, oobie. So what your past been sayin’ to you?

SPIKE: [muttering] Not words – action. [puts his hand under the duster] My past just tried to get back what I took – I could give it every last drop and it wouldn’t change anything. She was real ...

CHER: Surely she was real.

SPIKE: [eyes narrowing] Say ... "to you," and ...

CHER: [grunting] ... and what?

SPIKE: You know what I am, you know what I’m capable of.

CHER: I know you come to the Cave to change what you was.

SPIKE’s gaze drops. He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

SPIKE: I’ve changed ... "I just don't know what you've changed into ..." Thought all that stuff in the Cave was it – and it hardly even started up the motor. [Beat] The buggeroo in the Cave was real, right?

CHER makes the guttural sound in her throat

SPIKE: [tilting head] But you didn’t see the girl, right – you don’t think she’s real.

CHER: She did that to you – that’s real.

SPIKE nods.

CHER: But there’s real and there’s real ...

SPIKE: [chin jutting warningly] I don’t do metaphysical. [eyes narrowing] If you’re goin’ to start talking about spoons an’ offerin’ me cookies, have to tell you ... [Beat] Are you called the Oracle?

CHER: No – Cher.

SPIKE: [staring, and wiping his hand on the inside of the duster] Shouldn’t you be taller and whiter, Cher?

CHER: You watch your lip, oobie.

SPIKE raises an eyebrow and mouths "oobie"?

CHER: You were not lookin’ so good when we last spoke. Oobie is – those chickens scratchin’ around in the dust that don’t have much meat on them, lookin’ sorry for themselves – skinny. Male chickens.

SPIKE: Is that right – a skinny c–ock?

Circle Line train: Driver’s cabin
OYU is moving levers, pressing buttons, on the console as he brings the train into Moorgate. The hum ramps down, he opens the door and steps out rebelliously, stretching his arms. The cool, designer platforms, almost untouched here in the City by the celebrations, are echoing and empty. His eye is caught by a graffiti – shocking in this graffiti-free environment. He stares at the manga-style figure without much interest, until distracted by a shape moving at the far end. The CAT streaks the length of the platform in a blur of cream, he can hear it hissing and when he turns back, a figure has appeared.

MANGA SPIKE stares intently at the train, ignoring the hissing CAT at his feet. He lifts his head, eyes half-closed, then moves towards the last carriage. OYU leaps back into the Driver’s cabin, pushing buttons like a stoned keyboard player. He leans over the intercom.

OYU: Cher – we got bad shit here. Close the doors, quick ...

Circle Line: Last carriage
The intercom buzzes behind CHER. She pushes the button, and then as the doors close in a hiss of hydraulics, keeps listening, staring at SPIKE. The train draws away.

CHER: Nothin’ we can do ’bout that – where is this ubamba? ... so it take three-four minutes to get here. [her gaze shifts away from SPIKE] Yeah, it want the oobie ... You keep drivin’ the damn train, we deal with this.

She closes the connection

CHER: [frowning] There is something lookin’ like you runnin’ around.

SPIKE: He’s here?

CHER: Five-six carriages back. Not "he"– bad ubamba.

SPIKE: [getting up and making for the connecting door to the next carriage] I’m looking for it.

CHER: It lookin’ for you.

SPIKE: "Ubamba?"

CHER: Ubamba is a flat thing – drawing to lock the demons in. Bad ubamba [snorts] when it gets out. Like all them paintings in the Cave? They follow different set of rules, you understand me?

SPIKE: [not looking at her, pulling the connecting door open] Gotta stop it before ... I think it’s part of me – all the bad bits of me.

He plunges through the connecting door.

CHER: ... and you don’t destroy ubamba that way, oobie.

Circle Line train: Fourth carriage
MANGA SPIKE is standing, High-Noon style, in foreground of the shot, as SPIKE appears through the connecting door. His duster is open, the bloody markings smeared over his chest.

Between the two a young black woman is pressed back against one of the sets of doors. Apart from a buzzcut, she is very similar to Nikki Wood – attractive, stylishly urban, a well-proportioned figure – and a long black leather duster. As SPIKE walks past her he turns and we see the recognition, but he simply jerks a thumb towards the connecting door.

SPIKE: Best leave us to it, luv.

She runs to the connecting door.

SPIKE comes within ten feet of the MANGA, as near rattled as we’ve ever seen him. They move easily in the jolting carriage

SPIKE: Do you talk?

MANGA SPIKE: I have your words – load of bollocks.

SPIKE: What does a soddin’ cartoon need with words, anyway.

The MANGA smiles.

SPIKE: Come to dust me?

The MANGA frowns slightly.

MANGA SPIKE: Need you.

SPIKE: [eyes narrowing] So you can’t dust me.

MANGA SPIKE: Somebody else.

SPIKE: Yeah, they’re queuing around the bloody block, mate. But meantime [tensing] ...

The MANGA steps back.

SPIKE: ... let’s get rid of the bad photocopy ...

The MANGA steps back again – and is no longer there. But a graffiti on the walls of the carriage is.

SPIKE’s head drops, he swings himself onto the nearest seat, holding his midriff.

EXT: PAN through carriage windows.
SARAH is running through the third carriage, pushing her hand into her shoulder bag.

Circle Line train: Fourth carriage
SARAH comes through the connecting door. She sees the peroxide hair, the dark duster, the pale, bony face with its sharp cheekbones. SPIKE looks up, sees her and the corner of his mouth twitches slightly, the beginnings of a smile.

SARAH comes up to him, pulls a stake out of her bag and plunges it accurately into his heart.

The train is whining, clattering on the tracks. SARAH steps back, jolted by the train’s movement. SPIKE is staring in disbelief at his hand, bloody from the blow to his heart.

SARAH: What the – bloody shit are you? Wh–why don’t you dust?

SPIKE raises his head, eyes full of horror and complete confusion. He opens his mouth and frames the words ‘Don’t know.’ Looks down as his hand again. The carriage jerks suddenly and begins to slow.

The train screeches to a stop. SARAH looks one more time in shock at SPIKE and then pushes swiftly out of the opening doors and disappears. In the silence, broken by the click of machinery closing down, high shot of SPIKE toppling to the floor.

The soundtrack is empty as he drags himself on elbows and knees very slowly to the door of the carriage and with a last effort pulls himself through. CUT to ground level, platform. SPIKE has turned onto his back in the foreground, feet still in the carriage - the rubber edges of the doors opening and closing automatically on the biker’s boots. Background CHER coming out of the last carriage. She sees SPIKE and starts towards him at an awkward run ...
Trafalgar Square, London on New Year's Eve and Spike has to "find himself" in Mirror, Mirror

Last edited by ferdy-m : 11-14-2005 at 08:55 AM.

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11-11-2005, 09:02 AM #3
outside the box

Join Date: Jun 2004
Location: here's looking at you, luv
Posts: 1,308
Gender: Female
Reputation Points: 116



Moorgate Tube station: platform

OYU drags SPIKE away from the doors, which shut with a final hiss. CHER’s legs appear behind SPIKE, she kneels down and pulls him on to her lap. SPIKE’s eyes are closed. He isn’t moving.

CHER: We been here one time already, undead.

Still no movement. CHER exchanges a look with OYU. SPIKE stirs and his eyes open. He reaches for his chest and hasn’t the strength. His hand drops and his face sets.

SPIKE: Wh – what the bloody hell’s going on here?

CHER: [frowning] Hope you got time to listen to a story, oobie.

SPIKE’s mouth jerks at one corner.

CUT to: OYU. He launches into a set piece in dialect.


CHER: [irritated] I knows the story long, long time more than you, excuse me … [guttural cough] In the days of the Herds …

SPIKE: [weakly] Before the Astronauts …

CHER: Don’t move nor speak, oobie and you don’t feel no pain. Listen up now – this got major relevance for you. The first undead come to the Cave to find his soul. Like you, he got it – an’ his head was full of what he done, and it burned in his chest …

She reaches into her pocket for a scarf.

CHER: … so he set fire to hisself.

She pads it and presses it to SPIKE’s chest.

SPIKE: [face twists] Dusted?

CHER:[pressing harder] Better he did. No, undead, he got burned – like you got this. He was Changing Man – his demon find itself sharing a body with a human and he not so damn sure what he supposed to be …

SPIKE: [mumbling] … "Don’t know which clothes even fit me …"

CHER: Somebody been messing with you, undead?

SPIKE: … Let’s make a bad dolly, daddy. Yeah, you might say that.

CHER: So you changing man when she stake you. Doan’ you go thinkin’ about leavin’ us while you changing man, oobie. He lasted three days – there a lot of detail you doan wanna hear – and then he dusted and went to the bad place.

SPIKE: [eyes creasing, he laughs soundlessly] Finally get my card punched because … of a chest wound?

CHER: No way you’re goin’ anywhere, oobie.

CHER and OYU exchange a glance. OYU looks away.

CHER: There are things we can do – mojo.

SPIKE is silent for a while.

SPIKE: Perhaps it’s time …

CHER: [growling] No way you’re goin’.

SPIKE: Not your call, luv.

He plucks helplessly at CHER’s hand for a moment before giving up.

SPIKE: This is the fourth time of handing in the pass and leaving the building… [gazing around at the faux designer marble] Alleys are more my thing, this is too – shiny for it. And I’ve just got back from sitting in my own head … still know bugger-all about it, but it didn’t stop the questions. Like …

His eyes close tightly and open again.

SPIKE: … hundred odd years of making the world scream … and then it wants to hear me scream, and… haven’t got enough on me to make the bloody repayments. [shakes head, a laugh suddenly cut off] When do we call it a day? Can’t even burn without comin’ back. Whatever lies beyond … beyond, didn’t like the taste. Spat me out …

His voice comes to a stop, exhausted.

CHER: [low mutter] Someone must love you, oobie.

SPIKE: Who loves ya, oobie.

He closes his eyes. Long pause – too long, CHER leans forward. SPIKE opens his eyes again.

SPIKE: [quietly] She said she did … Couldn’t let her … live in this bloody carcase. Everything I’ve done – it’s me. [lifts both hands with difficulty] She cut them off, another girl, hands, wrists – I didn’t touch her but no matter – I did the business with all the others. An’ … they stitched them back on … an’ I live with them. With what I was … what I am.

His hands drop.

SPIKE: … can’t let her love … that.

CHER: [snort] Like you got any choice, undead.

SPIKE: Runnin’ out of time. Too many wrong calls …

CHER leans over, cupping SPIKE’s chin firmly for a moment.

CHER: No way you givin’ up, you hear me, oobie?

SPIKE: If I go, what happens to – the poncy cartoon?

OYU: [O.S.] That one real bad shit.

CHER: [guttural cough] What the man said – ubamba doan follow no rules – an’ this one doan follow them rules. One thing for sure – it don’t disappear if you do, oobie. [glancing up at OYU] This ubamba hungry?

OYU: [O.S.] Hungry as a deep hole. It want to fill itself with …

CHER: … you, oobie. Then it not so thin any more. It full of the real thing.

SPIKE stirs restlessly.

SPIKE: Why should I stay?


CHER: Hang aroun’ long enough an’ you’ll find out.


SPIKE’s lower lip begins to jut.

SPIKE: How do you get me into extra time?

CHER: We deal with that.

SPIKE: What happens?

CHER: If’n I knew that …

CHER shuffles backward, lowering SPIKE flat.

CHER … I would not be workin’ for London Underground.

She nods at OYU. He walks back up the train to the end of the carriage and stands waiting. CHER lowers her head.


CHER nods her head without looking at OYU. He starts drumming on the side of the carriage – a beat that never settles into one rhythm, jerky and demanding attention. SPIKE’s face twitches at every dull clang. OYU moves closer, a rhythm emerging which is strange … CHER’s head is still bowed. SPIKE’s eyes unfocus and then close.

Extra time
SPIKE’s eyes snap open. The platform stretches out, empty. There is nothing, except the absence of OYU and CHER, to show that where he is is not – where he is. He gets smoothly to his feet, t-shirt unmarked.

SPIKE: That’s better – lyin’ around like flat-pack shelving was gettin’ up my … [quiet mutter] what now?

Moorgate Tube station: platform
CHER settles herself more comfortably, watching SPIKE’s face. OYU is standing just behind her, arms folded.

CHER: [grunts] What do I know ’bout it, oobie?.

CHER frowns suddenly, making the guttural sound in her throat.

CHER: Forgot to tell him not to follow the damn cartoon – it’ll lead him deep down.

OYU: You think the ubamba there?

CHER: Thin place … thin thing. [Beat] It there.

CHER gets up, brushing her knees.

CHER: [glancing back at SPIKE] Have to speak with that slayer – the second one you killed, undead.

OYU: Where you want to talk, Oracle?

CHER: [looking at the train] Subway – they were in a train. In there.

They move towards the nearest carriage.

CHER: An’ doan call me that – y’know it sound like my place is stuffed with kiddies floatin’ spoons. [coughs] Kids – they surely got that right –

CHER punches the door release and steps in. OYU stays outside.

CHER … but mainly they is watching ‘Eastenders’.

OYU: Ora – Cher!

The CAT is the other end of the platform, a rigid, hissing cream streak. As they watch, it suddenly bounds off the platform, landing accurately between the tracks, and disappears into the darkness of the tunnel.

CHER: Cat knows. It there – we gotta talk with her quick.

Extra time
S/TRACK: Suite from "Restless"

SPIKE looks across the length of the platform at MANGA SPIKE. He takes a step. MANGA SPIKE turns, walks unhurriedly to the end of the train and drops neatly onto the tracks and makes for the tunnel. SPIKE begins to run. He runs, the carriages flickering behind him, until he reaches the end of the train, and leaps down onto the tracks.

Backlit by the station, SPIKE plunges into the darkness. He trips on something and overbalances against the central rail.

SPIKE: Bugger … agh!

His eyes are clenched tight, palms out in front of him. Nothing happens. SPIKE opens his eyes, takes an unneeded breath, shakes his head and plunges on.

SPIKE and MANGA SPIKE are two gleams of peroxide hair, bobbing and weaving in the near darkness. MANGA SPIKE turns, wrenches open a maintenance door and starts down a metal spiral staircase dim with gloomy security lighting. SHOT stays on MANGA SPIKE long enough to show changes – in this dimension he is half cartoon, half solid. His moving figure has an anime look to it – strong contrasts bring out the cheekbones, shadowing under the eyebrows and lips and making of the duster and the bloody markings on the chest something more icon than human.

By the time SPIKE reaches the top, MANGA SPIKE is a figure far down the narrow tube of light that is the spiral. The echoes of his clattering descent fill the small space.

SPIKE plunges down the staircase. As he goes, his voice drifts back, disjointed by metallic clangs.

SPIKE: [chanting] "If I go there will be trouble.
And if I stay it will be … double."

MANGA SPIKE reaches the bottom, pulls open another maintenance door and comes out into another tunnel. Minutes later, SPIKE emerges. The MANGA is a long way ahead, already backlit by another station, more dimly lit than the last.

Extra time – the Blitz station
MANGA SPIKE’s anime figure meets the grainy monochrome treatment of a 1940s newsreel as he swings himself up onto a platform straight out of the London Blitz. Huddled in blankets in long rows, families, some men but mainly women and children, are sheltering from the bombing above, belongings for the night spread around them. SHOT holds on them while MANGA SPIKE reaches the end of the platform and jumps down to the tracks.

SPIKE (in monochrome) comes to the mouth of the tunnel and stares. He puts his hands flat on the platform and lifts himself up. SHOT follows his feet as he walks along the crowded platform. It is strangely quiet, no chatter, his footsteps echo in the silence. Most of the bundled figures are facing away from him. His foot kicks a thermos flask over.

SPIKE: Sorry …

The nearest figure unbundles and sits up.

BLITZ MAN: Sorry … are you?

The man, mid-30s with a short-back-and-sides haircut, would have had some disability to be out of uniform but the bite marks on his neck make it a given. SPIKE stares and his face goes still. He walks on, more figures sit up – not all 1940s, some from different periods – but all victims, all with the marks of violence on them, women, children. SPIKE’s face reflects what he sees, his eyes are full of them as he walks, very slowly, to the end of the platform.

He comes to a halt, not looking back.

Long pause.

Without another word, he jumps down onto the tracks and goes into the next tunnel.

[FADE OUT S/TRACK Suite from "Restless"]

Moorgate Tube station: Carriage. INT
CHER is sitting comfortably with her legs crossed, listening to the rhythm of OYU’s drumming on the outside of the carriage.

NIKKI WOOD enters by a connecting door and glances around. She is dressed as she was in the subway carriage, 1977, including the duster.

CHER: [yelling loudly] She here, Oyu – stop with the drummin’!

NIKKI comes up, nods to CHER and leans back against a divider, relaxing and pushing her hands into the pockets of the duster.

NIKKI: I came [smiles] – as it’s you, Cher.

CHER: How things with you, Nikki?

NIKKI: Okay … except [ducking her head] Robin’s here with me. Good to have my little man back with me – but the reason was …

CHER: [frowning] Shit happens.

NIKKI: [raising her head] Man oh, man, yes.

CHER: How d’you feel about [coughs] … the shit what happened to you back in that subway carriage, Slayer?

NIKKI straightens slightly and folds her arms.

NIKKI: [smiling slightly] The Billy Idol vibe? [frowning] For taking me away from my boy, that is one punk I so wish had made my day. But I made his day. [beat] Penalty of the Mission.

CHER: Askin’ you to help the undead.

NIKKI: [confused] Spike’s still there? But – Robin says …

CHER: That’s two exits back.

NIKKI: [lips twisting, remembering] He took Robin’s life, or a lifetime of chasing after my murderer. [quietly] Poor Robin.

CHER: [guttural cough] "Poor" and "Spike," – two words not never goin’ to fit together.

NIKKI: Robin says he got a soul? [CHER nods] Don’t get me wrong, I loved living – but that punk vamp fought for anything that had even the smell of it – never seen anything undead that hungry for life.

CHER: It’s not so enthusiastic at this moment. Which is why am askin’ you to help.

NIKKI stares at her, then straightens.

NIKKI: What d’you want me to do?

CHER: It’s the coat.

NIKKI: The coat?

CHER: Remember last thing you told the undead?

NIKKI: [frowning] About the coat and …?

CHER: He needs remindin’.

NIKKI: So. When?

CHER: [grunts] Depends – on how deep the ubamba takes him.

Extra time
[S/TRACK: Fade IN Suite from "Restless".]

The tracks have run out – SPIKE is running towards the light at the end of something more cave than London Underground, MANGA SPIKE is silhouetted against the strange light, taunting SPIKE with his relaxed pose.

He disappears and SPIKE, as he comes to the end of the tunnel, slows, taking the last few steps slowly, carefully, head tilted.

He comes out into a cavern – smaller than the spawning grounds of the Turok-han in the hellmouth, bigger than the Deeper Well. The source of lighting comes from the edge of a chasm ten yards from where he is standing, bridged with a basic walkway like the Deeper Well. There is the sense of deep, deep emptiness below the walkway, but at the other side the tunnel continues on.

SPIKE stops at the entrance.

[CUT S/TRACK Suite from "Restless"]

MANGA SPIKE, standing at the edge of the walkway, is a flickering anime against the darkness, the face more androgynous than ever with its sketchy contrast of cheekbones and eyebrows.

SPIKE watches him with head deeply tilted, his left hand twitching against a pocket of the duster.

SPIKE: We’re so pretty …

He straightens, expression settling into snarky belligerence.

SPIKE: … oh, so pretty – vacant.

MANGA SPIKE: [smiling] Sex Pistols – Pretty Vacant. All your bollocking memories.

SPIKE walks forward, stopping a few yards from his mirror image.

SPIKE: Listened to a lot of things, watched a lot of telly … read a lot of manga. Never met a comic yet that looked like it could stop me walking over a bridge, know what I mean, Pretty Vacant?

SPIKE comes within two feet of MANGA SPIKE, giving a glimpse of the chasm beyond. On the edge of hearing a very faint sound, like waves washing up a beach, comes from it.

SPIKE: Tell me, poncy cartoon – why should I be afraid of you?

MANGA SPIKE mimics SPIKE’s head tilt and smirk.


SPIKE’s jaw clenches in a deeper smirk. For a moment his eyes flicker.

SPIKE: You’re a bad photocopy, mate. Empty.

MANGA SPIKE: "You can make me feel … I’m gonna make you feel it."

Something new flickers in SPIKE’s eyes. Fear.

MANGA SPIKE steps aside, giving SPIKE access to the walkway.

MANGA SPIKE: If I off you, it destroys me.

SPIKE pushes past, jolted into surprise at the MANGA’s solidity, and steps out on to the walkway. He goes halfway and looks down. MANGA SPIKE walks after him.

Like the hole in the Deeper Well, the chasm seems to go on for ever – the lighting could be coming from New Zealand. The faint, hissing sound does not come from a beach the other side of the world, but from voices. Far, far below, figures are moving and talking, thousands of them …

MANGA SPIKE stands beside a motionless SPIKE.

MANGA SPIKE: Your hole.

SPIKE lifts his head and nods, once, slowly.

MANGA SPIKE: What you did …

The light reflects on SPIKE’s still face.

MANGA SPIKE: … made this.

The sound of the voices washes distantly up to them.

CLOSE on SPIKE’s face.

SPIKE: Can’t … give them …

With shocking suddenness, MANGA SPIKE’s arm locks across his chest from behind, jerking SPIKE backward and then forward on to the rail, his left arm pinned behind him. The contact is changing the MANGA, less anime, more human …

CLOSE on MANGA SPIKE’s face, the sketchy contrast disappearing, detailed and solid against SPIKE’s neck.

MANGA SPIKE: Shall I … send them your regrets? Send them you.

SPIKE is suddenly motionless.

SPIKE: Off yourself, yeah? – what there is of you, comic strip …

MANGA SPIKE dips his face towards SPIKE’s neck.

MANGA SPIKE: [whisper] Think I want this? It’s not the blood – no, mummy, not the blood …

He moves his arm, clutching at the top-left hand corner of SPIKE’s chest, the words coming freely with his contact with the original.

MANGA SPIKE: I need you. [quietly against SPIKE’s neck] You’ll fill me – so soddin’ empty. Those buggers have the bloody carcase …

CLOSE on SPIKE’s face, fixed in an intense rictus. He knows he is fighting against something with his own strength.

MANGA SPIKE: … I get your bloody soul.

His grip tightens.

MANGA SPIKE: [whispering] Then I go to her … "Please, don’t do this." But yeah – finish what you couldn’t, kill the love. Nothing of you in her – we are complete. No soul, no love, no split – just darkness. You’ll like our darkness …


Extra time: Moorgate Tube station: Carriage. INT
In the harsh flourescent lighting SPIKE is staring at his hands, covered in rings, bare arms, punk-ripped top. He raises his head, taking deep unnecessary breaths, dealing with the last few seconds, sees NIKKI. The train ramps up and sets off.

NIKKI: [smile] It’s started, Spike, time to dance. Are you dancin’?

She wrenches one of the hand rails off its moorings and holds it like a pikestaff towards him.

SPIKE: [letting his hands drop] No … no. What the soddin’ hell? We travel this loop to the end of time, taking turns killing each other?

NIKKI: You kill me, same as last time.

SPIKE stares at her.

SPIKE: Once was enough – if this is my story, why should you …?

NIKKI spins the rail and cracks SPIKE across the face with it, sending him reeling to the floor of the carriage as it jerks around them. The noise increases as the train picks up speed.

NIKKI: I can’t dance on my own …

A change in the sound alerting NIKKI to the approaching tunnel. She jumps on SPIKE’s chest, straddling him and raising her fist as the train, shrieking, enters the tunnel.

NIKKI: Dance with me, punk – Dance!

The carriage lights go out.

When they come back on, SPIKE is straddling NIKKI, he has his hands around her throat. His face shows the struggle as his hands tighten, fighting the compulsion …

SPIKE: [raw with denial] I’ll have the coat.

NIKKI: [staring into his eyes] You take the coat, undead, and you take the Mission with it.

SPIKE leans forward, puts his hands both sides of her neck …

And his hands drop.

NIKKI twists out from under him, rubbing her neck. SPIKE stares at the spot where she was.

NIKKI: [mumbling] God … painful – you owe me, sister, big time.

You take the coat, undead, and you take the Mission with it.

NIKKI goes to the communication cord and pulls it – the train screeches to a stop and the doors open. She turns to SPIKE, still kneeling on the floor of the carriage but in his usual jeans, t-shirt, and the leather duster.

NIKKI: Remember, undead?

She rubs her throat, wincing, jumps down into the darkness and disappears. SPIKE gets up, but the doors are closing. The train starts off again.

SPIKE: … remember …

He is standing staring at the doors opposite, the dark tunnel walls shifting behind the glass.

SPIKE: You take the coat …

SPIKE stares at the glass. The noise of the train mutes. He sees himself, dimly reflected.

SPIKE: … you take the Mission with it.

SPIKE steps forward and very slowly stretches his hand out to the reflection. His face is exhausted, harsh in the overhead glare – and full of innocence.

The reflection fades. SPIKE drops his hand but stays, staring at the spot where it appeared.

The train draws into the next station. The intercom crackles into life.

CHER [V.O.] End of the line. [coughs] This train ain’t goin’ anywhere else. Next stop, end of the line …

End of Extra Time: Moorgate Tube station: platform
SPIKE steps out onto the platform. The train disappears in a hum of hydraulics, leaving SPIKE standing alone in the silence.

He looks over to the opposite platform – he is lying on the ground there, CHER kneeling by motionless figure, OYU standing nearby, the CAT padding around them in a circle. It’s mouth opens and closes, and CHER says something to OYU, but there is no sound on SPIKE’s side of the platform.

Moorgate Tube station: Platform
CHER is staring at SPIKE intently. She turns her head to OYU.

CHER: He at the end of the line.

OYU nods.

CHER: [turning back to SPIKE’s still face] No more travellin’ undead. Next step you take, you on the edge of going or staying. This where your name gonna so bite you on your skinny ass …

End of the Line
SPIKE takes one step forward …

The platform morphs around him, to the sound of subway train engines braking, screeching, running into the bumpers at the end of the line … the sound of breaking glass …

Moorgate underground station into full-sized hellmouth cavern. SPIKE’s personal hole in the world appears where the tracks were …

Moorgate Tube station: Platform

CHER: … We choose our names. You drive your spike into the world, oobie, gonna make a hole …

End of the Line
SPIKE twitches his head, bringing his hands up as the sound of machinery under pressure is joined by an organic scream in the upper registers. The hole in the world splits the cavern floor, running through rock like a tear in a piece of silk …

Moorgate Tube station: Platform

CHER: … gonna split yourself from the world …

End of the Line
SPIKE is standing ten yards from the gaping chasm in the floor of the cavern. He walks forward and stops, tips of the biker’s boots just over the edge, looking down. He looks up and over the abyss, stretching endlessly each side of him into the distance, and sees himself, a body, lying fifty yards away on the other side

Moorgate Tube station: Platform

CHER: … you stay where you is, or you comes back to the world …

She stares at SPIKE’s motionless face.

End of the Line
The noise dies down. SPIKE moves backward, one step at a time, staring at the edge of the chasm, ten paces. He turns and begins to pace along it, looking straight ahead, ignoring the chasm.

The smooth rhythmic guitar chords of "The Changingman" start up on S/TRACK. Paul Weller’s voice, warm and rough:

Is happiness real?
Or am I so jaded
I can’t see or feel – like a man mutated …

SPIKE’s pacing figure stops dead. Pause. He slowly stretches his arms out, head downbent, feet planted apart. The tips of his fingers move, feeling the air …

Numbed by the effect, aware of the muse
Too in touch with myself, I light the fuse.

I’m the changingman, built on shifting sands
I’m the changingman, waiting for the bang
As I light a bitter fuse

SPIKE throws his head back and drops his arms, making a vague, sweeping gesture. He starts pacing again, closer to the edge of the chasm. He hunches over abruptly, straightens slowly, comes up with his right hand held in front of him. He brings the palm of his left hand over it, lacing the fingers in a tight clasp, eyes closed.

Time is on loan, only ours to borrow
What I can’t be today, I can be tomorrow

SPIKE turns and paces away from the chasm. Overhead SHOT follows him all the way to walls of the cavern. He turns ...

And the more I see, the more I know
The more I know, the less I understand.

SPIKE begins to run towards the chasm. Head down, he picks up speed. The biker’s boots, pounding along the floor of the cavern, send up spurts of dust, soundlessly. The guitar chords are loud on the S/TRACK ...

I’m the changingman, built on shifting sands,
I’m the changingman, waiting for the bang,
To light a bitter fuse.

SPIKE’s eyes are closed, face clenched. He picks up speed ...

It’s a bigger part –
When our instincts act,
A shot in the dark –
A movement in black.

The edge comes closer ...

And the more I see, the more I know
The more I know, the less I understand.

I’m the changingman, built on shifting sands
(I don’t have a plan)
I’m the changingman, waiting for the bang
To light a bitter fuse.

S/TRACK cuts out. The biker’s boots reach the edge – SPIKE springs up and out. SHOT slows, catching his legs moving above the abyss, eyes opening, a grin starting. He reaches the top of his arc, flings his head back, arms outstretched, the pain and ecstasy of release in a moment of complete freedom. HOLD.

Fade to BLACK.

Staff Only, London Underground, Embankment Station
The cramped staff-only cubbyhole has the cheap, basic vibe provided by all public bodies for their workers. The walls are covered with official literature, maps of the Underground, and photos of CHER’s children. The decor, furnishings and equipment are less than shiny. SPIKE, CHER, OYU and the CAT fill the confined space.

CHER: [grumbling] We is goin’ to be in deep shit if a Supervisor turns up.

OYU: We tell him we got somebody recovering from major chest surgery here. It’s okay.

He glances at SPIKE who is leaning back in a chair holding a mug of tea labelled "Best Mum in the World". SPIKE raises an eyebrow.

CHER: It not that – you full vamp now, oobie, and healin’ up nicely – it is that ... Strictly against all the regulations ...

The CAT, perched on the table staring intently at SPIKE, yawns delicately, happy with the attention.

CHER: Have a biscuit, oobie, it help the healin’.

SPIKE: What are they?

CHER: Them chocolate digestives.

SPIKE: I like chocolate digestives.

He picks one politely out of the top of the packet CHER is holding out. The CAT leans forward, sniffing.

SPIKE: [growls] Back off moggy – or it’s you next. [off their disbelieving looks] The reason I’m not pickin it’s fur out of my teeth is ... this is a canary.

SPIKE waves the cookie over the CAT’s head, smirking deeply.

SPIKE: Like miner’s canaries ... this moggy knows the poncy cartoon from a drawing on the wall ... just hope I don’t get peckish on the journey, pussy cat.

CHER: Have another – you need feedin’ up.

SPIKE: [raising an eyebrow] Well-defined.

CHER: [snorting] Yeah, well defined. So, what you doin’ next, oobie?

SPIKE: stares at the mug of tea in his hand.

SPIKE: First, going to see a girl [glances up at CHER and OYU and down again] because ... because. Then ... things to do.

CHER: [mumbling through a cookie] You got the Mission.

SPIKE: [quickly] ... Things to do.

SPIKE stares at the CAT. It stares back with calm loathing.

SPIKE: We need to be getting after the cartoon ... [beat] before it reaches ...

OYU: You know where the ubamba going?

SPIKE: [eyes narrowing] Yeah –

CHER: So what you doin’ sitting around eatin’ chocolate digestives?

SPIKE: Convalescing from a major chest wound? The cartoon is with Dru – could smell her all over him. Dru can’t do the mural mojo, so they’ll have to go the long way around ... What’s the best route to the coast?

Embankment Tube station: Entrance. Night
SPIKE, OYU and CHER emerge into the echoing emptiness of the booking hall, feet clattering on the black and white tiling.

OYU: Don’t get stuck on the South Circular, it drain your life quicker than the undead ... uh ... if you turn right, you gonna avoid the South Circular, get on the A3 ...

CHER: He don’t want the A3, it full of speed traps.

SPIKE turns and raises an eyebrow at her.

They come to the entrance and watch SPIKE walk across the empty floodlit embankment to the Harley-Davidson, cordoned off with yellow-and-black striped scene-of-crime tape. He pushes through it irritably, the CAT trotting at his heels, picks something out of his pocket and begins tinkering with the ignition.

CHER: How he goin’ to get to America on a motorbike?

OYU: [rolling his eyes] Same way he got to the Cave on a motorbike. [grinning, very quietly] oobie.

They watch SPIKE straddle the Harley-Davidson and lean down to pick up the CAT, buttoning it inside the duster. He looks towards them and ducks his head, nodding once. They nod back.

SPIKE kicks away the side support and pushes down on the throttle. The gut-wrenching roar of a Harley-Davidson exhaust breaks the silence. SPIKE glances over his shoulder at two policecars parked further back and opens the throttle wide.

He’s off. The policecars start up. S/TRACK comes up with classic rock track – Queen "Now I’m Here."

Here I stand (here I stand..)
Look around around around around
(Around around around around..)
But you won’t see me (you won’t see me..)
Now I’m here (now I’m here..)
Now I’m there (now I’m there..)
I’m just a – just a new man
Yes, you made me live again.

PAN SHOT – SPIKE a blur of dark leather and bright hair. Throttle wide, wide open, AERIAL SHOT as he heads up the embankment towards Big Ben, London Eye on the left. Whine of police sirens picks up on the rock S/TRACK

A baby I was when you took my hand
And the light of the night burned bright
And the people all stared didn’t understand
But you knew my name on sight
Whatever came of you and me?

HIGH AERIAL SHOT of SPIKE coming up to Houses of Parliament, trailing police cars. He's going too fast, they'll never catch him now. Slackens (a bit) to take the turn on to the bridge and he's off ... Back to Buffy.

Don’t worry baby I’m safe and sound
Down in the dungeon just Peaches and me
Don’t I love her so?
Yes, she made me live again Yeah!




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