We move to focus on the ground within the shaft of moonlight, and a single bare foot with sparkly clear nail polish pauses just within our line of vision, then moves on. We move up behind the moonlight and see four women from behind, walking in height order. All we can tell is that they’re female because we only get their silhouettes. They walk forward.

We move in front of them and go from feet to face of each woman individually. We see that they are:

KENDRA, WILLOW, DAWN and FAITH.

KENDRA wears her hair in lots of little braids. She wears some dramatic eyeliner and good lipstick, black suede hip-hugging bellbottoms, a sleeveless gray cotton hoodie with the hood up, and no shoes. Next we see

WILLOW, who wears her wet hair back in a very tight bun, ballerina-style. The bun is wrapped in a net and speared with shiny black chopsticks. She wears very low, very loose black linen pants and a very ornate silver belly chain wrapped twice around her waist. Her shirt, which is textured and gray, with long sleeves, doesn’t start until just below her breasts. The sleeves of her shirt are a little too long and come to her knuckles. We see that she is the wearer of the sparkly clear nail polish, as she has that on her fingernails too. Her only makeup is lip gloss. We go to

DAWN. DAWN has her hair cut in the style of CORDELIA in “The Price,” with the front longer than the back. It frames her face and is very cute and still ultra-straight and ­shiny. She looks very skinny, with a total lack of “feminine” curves. She wears tight black cotton capris that come to just below her knees and a dark gray spaghetti-strap shirt with a long hem. She has a knife-belt around her waist, and we can just see a polished leather hilt. She has a charm anklet on with little bells that, eerily, don’t make any noise. She is barefoot too. Beside her is

FAITH, who looks just as sexy as ever in indecently tight black leather shorts and a low-cut gray spandex T-shirt. Her hair is loose and curly. She has her usual dark makeup on, and black toe- and fingernail polish. How surprising, she’s barefoot.

After fully ogling each of them, we pull to the side as they walk out of the alley and onto an only slightly better lit street. They each look quite tough. We freeze and let them walk by, and then we speedily turn back around the corner and coast into the alley. We go further and further back into the darkness until we look down and see a very large number of unmistakable dust piles.

We snap to the street the girls were just walking down. It’s empty. There’s a long silence, and then a high-pitched meow. We drop to be level with the sidewalk and see four housecats: one calico, with gold eyes; one with russet fur and green eyes; one with Persian-length long shiny brown fur and bright blue eyes, and one that’s black with brown eyes. They stare into the camera for a long moment, then turn and trot off down the street. We watch as they go, then go straight to

The ANGEL theme song & credits.
 

ACT ONE
 

Zoom through Los Angeles at night to the Hyperion, outside view.

ANGEL (voice-over, petulant): I want to find out who and what they are.

We swoosh to the Hyperion interior, where ANGEL and CONNOR stand, relaxed, by the reception desk; SPIKE sits at the computer behind reception. SPIKE is wearing his usual worn black jeans, Doc Martens, and black T-shirt. ANGEL is wearing something typically broody. CONNOR wears cargo khakis and a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath a short-sleeved one, looking kind of preppy—Abercrombie & Fitch-ish.

SPIKE (unimpressed): And how, oh mighty Poufster, do you suggest we go about this little venture?

The COMPUTER beeps.

SPIKE: Argh!

SPIKE hits the computer, then looks contrite.

SPIKE (patting the monitor meekly): Sorry, mate.

ANGEL and CONNOR both look at him blankly. SPIKE glares at them

CONNOR (shaking his head): We’ve been looking for information on these creatures for almost a month now. It’s not like the answers are just gonna waltz into our lobby!

CONNOR points at the lobby doors for emphasis, which are kicked open by GUNN just as CONNOR finishes speaking.

GUNN (smug): Found it!

GUNN trots down the stairs into the lobby, waving a torn piece of paper.

CONNOR: Of course.

GUNN pauses in the middle of the lobby and holds the PAPER up. He assumes a haughty pose.

GUNN (reading from the PAPER with a terrible British accent): Feline shape shifters, differing from those habits attributed to the typical werewolf or ­cat in that they possess the fantastic ability to vary those times during which they assume their feline forms, as well as enjoying a plethora of different feline appearances which assist them in the befuddlement of their enemies.

There is a long pause, during which we close-up on ANGEL, CONNOR and SPIKE individually. Each has a varying expression of incredulity on his face.

SPIKE: Fifteen dollars says that’s from the Watchers.

ANGEL (moving forward to take the PAPER from GUNN): Where’d you get this?

GUNN: From he-who-shall-not-be-named. He—

GUNN stops at the look on ANGEL’s face.

SPIKE: Well.

GUNN (coughs): It’s from The Pergamum Codex.

ANGEL: You’re joking.

CONNOR: What can these… things have to do with the Slayer?

ANGEL (to Connor): Most ‘things’ have to do with the Slayer. (Absently) We don’t even know who the new Slayers are yet.

GUNN: I didn’t ask him. (Off ANGEL’s warning look, defensively) He gave it to me. He thought it was pretty important.

ANGEL: Huh.

The COMPUTER beeps again.

SPIKE: Fuck!

He cringes.

SPIKE (sheepishly, to the computer): Sorry!

EVERYONE turns to look at him.

SPIKE (testily): What?

GUNN: You’re nicer to your laptop than you ever were to me.

GUNN thumps his fist against his chest.

GUNN: I’m so hurt. I might cry.

SPIKE snorts.

SPIKE: Right.

His face suddenly goes from cocky and sarcastic to hurt. He pats the back of the monitor.

SPIKE: This was Willow’s computer.

There’s another long, awkward silence.

SPIKE (covering): Well, then! It’s been a long night. I’d better turn in.

CONNOR (blandly): It’s only eleven o’clock.

SPIKE (casual): Yeah, well, I’ve not been getting much sleep lately. Awfully knackered.

SPIKE gets up, unplugs the LAPTOP and heads up the stairs with the computer.

SPIKE: Night, all.

EVERYONE watches him go. There’s a pause, and then we hear a door SLAM from upstairs.

GUNN: (sighs) I might, uh…

ANGEL: Go ahead. We’ll close up shop.

GUNN: (smiles) Thanks. See y’all tomorrow.

He nods to Angel and Connor, and then turns and leaves.

CONNOR (looking after Gunn, contemplatively): He’s got a girlfriend.

ANGEL: (snickers) I know.

CONNOR (considering): Or a boyfriend?

ANGEL: Nah. Girlfriend.

A beat.

ANGEL: (laughs) I’ve never seen him so quick to get out of here.

ANGEL sits on the lobby stairs. CONNOR joins him.

ANGEL (suddenly): You talk with Spike more than I do. Is he okay?

CONNOR: No.

ANGEL (unsurprised): Ah. (After a long pause, plaintively) It’s been a year.

CONNOR (looking at his hands): It’s been a year since Cordelia, too, and you haven’t gotten over her.

ANGEL’s face tightens.

CONNOR: Sorry.

Beat.

CONNOR: I didn’t know her very well, but she… seemed to care for you a great deal.

ANGEL: Yeah.

ANGEL sighs.

ANGEL: But… Spike doesn’t have a soul.

CONNOR: So?

ANGEL: (sighs) It shouldn’t matter. But… Maybe I feel guilty because he seems to care more than I do. And not just about Buffy.

CONNOR: The Slayer?

Angel nods.

ANGEL: She was the love of my life. Sort of. It got really complicated, but the gist of it is, after a lot of heartache and angst, I realized I loved her—as in past tense. And that I loved—present tense—Cordelia. So I was almost relieved when she’d been dead for a while, because I loved Cordy. And then Willow resurrected her—Buffy, that is—and stuff got all oogy, and then Groo came back…

CONNOR: Who is Willow?

ANGEL: (laughs) I must have a photo album somewhere. (shrugs) She was a cute little redhead. Not so little, maybe around Spike’s height. (frowns) That’s one other thing that bothers me.

CONNOR (when it becomes clear that ANGEL isn’t about to continue): What?

ANGEL (musing): Well, now that I think about it, two other things that bother me.

CONNOR (impatient): What?

ANGEL: (shakes his head) Never mind about the second thing. But think about it: As far as supernatural occurrences go, werewolves and werecats aren’t that super, but these shape shifters…

ANGEL listlessly waves the PAPER from The Pergamum Codex. CONNOR listens intently.

ANGEL: That kind of control over the shape you take isn’t natural. On the supernatural scale of what makes sense in a really weird way, this doesn’t. Make sense. People aren’t born with those kinds of abilities—they usually cast them on themselves, but only someone extremely powerful could cast a spell like that on their own…

CONNOR: … And?

ANGEL: Willow was extremely powerful, from what Spike says. She could have been a real force of good if she hadn’t used her powers for vengeance instead. But I think she was the most powerful witch in three centuries. (frowns) That’s discounting Wybert the Wondrous, of course… And Gerda the Gruesome. And what’s-his-name, Barzillai the Brilliant.

CONNOR rolls his eyes.

ANGEL: … Oh! And Tuesday the Telekinetic.

CONNOR: What kind of an epithet is that?

ANGEL: (nods) Horrible name, I know. But Willow’s dead. She couldn’t have anything to do with this.

CONNOR: They only found four bodies out of the six in Sunnydale, I thought.

ANGEL: (sighs) I know. But Dawn probably vaporized or imploded, and it’s more than likely that Willow incinerated herself from overuse of magic, so…

CONNOR: Mmm.

Beat.

CONNOR: A coven could have pooled power and cast this spell.

ANGEL: I think we probably would have heard of it. I mean, it would have to be a huge coven that met every night that had members with extraordinary powers.

CONNOR (giving up): Ah.

ANGEL: Sorry. I wish I know what caused this though. (ruefully) Whoever these people are, they must have an incredible amount of control…

CUT to the WAREHOUSE exterior. We can hear slight strains of rock music.

CUT to a large, impressive kitchen inside the warehouse. KENDRA sits on a counter in only a black silk shirt that’s far too big for her—it comes nearly to her knees, and the sleeves are rolled up to her elbows.

We can properly hear the music now. It’s “Control,” by Puddle of Mudd, and it’s being blasted at God knows how many decibels. KENDRA rolls her eyes as she peels an orange.

KENDRA (yelling): Turn the music down!

CUT to Faith’s bedroom, where FAITH and DAWN are dancing like maniacs, singing along at the tops of their lungs.

CUT back to the kitchen. KENDRA tosses some orange peel into the sink.

KENDRA (yelling): Turn the music down!

CUT back to Faith’s bedroom. Faith and Dawn are way too far gone to hear anything.

CUT to the kitchen

KENDRA: Dear God.

KENDRA plops the orange on the counter and stomps out of the kitchen. We follow her down some very classy-looking hallways until she gets to Faith’s bedroom. KENDRA leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms as she watches FAITH and DAWN mosh like idiots. We watch them from her POV for a while.

WILLOW (voice-over): They’re at it again, huh?

CUT to the doorway. WILLOW stands next to KENDRA, looking amused.

KENDRA: Oh, yeah. (laughs) They’re preeeeetty special.

WILLOW: Mmm.

FAITH and DAWN keep dancing in circles. FAITH finally looks up and sees Kendra and Willow in the doorway. FAITH shimmies over.

FAITH (singing along): I love the way you look at me…

(Here she does the Pulp Fiction)

FAITH (singing along): I love the way you smack my ass…

(She demonstrates. WILLOW rolls her eyes)

FAITH (singing along): I love the dirty things you do…

(She mimes flicking a whip)

KENDRA: Do you think about anything else?

FAITH (yelling): What?

KENDRA (yelling): Do you think about anything besides sex?

FAITH (yelling): What? No! (incredulous) Do you?

WILLOW snorts.

DAWN hops over.

DAWN (yelling): Hey.

KENDRA (yelling): Turn down the music!

DAWN (yelling): What?

KENDRA (under her breath): Oh, for the love of God.

KENDRA crosses the room and turns the music down so low that we can’t hear it anymore.

KENDRA: I said, turn down the music.

FAITH: Oh, that’s what you kept yelling. We couldn’t hear you.

KENDRA: I know.

WILLOW: Suit up, chicas. Patrol time.

FAITH: Damn.

WILLOW: I know, it sucks. But Edwy’s getting more and more powerful, so all we can do now is stake ‘em as they come.

DAWN: Blah. Can we eat first?

KENDRA: As long as you don’t cook.

DAWN: Ha ha.

KENDRA (as she turns to go): I’m gonna go get dressed. And eat my orange.

KENDRA leaves.

FAITH: Okay, everybody out. I’m not gonna patrol in fishnets.

WILLOW: (snickers) C’mon, Dawnie.

WILLOW and DAWN leave as FAITH closes her bedroom door. They walk down the hall together.

DAWN: What I still don’t get is why the Council has all four of us patrolling the same city. Is Edwy really that much of a threat?

WILLOW: You better believe it, cutie. Supposedly he’s to blame for the disappearance of Atlantis. You don’t want that to happen to L.A., do you?

DAWN: Definitely not.

Beat.

DAWN: (she looks down at her feet) It’s nice not to have to wear shoes.

WILLOW stops walking.

WILLOW: (sighs) Look, Dawn, I wanna thank you for trusting me enough to do this.

DAWN (super-casual): No big.

WILLOW: …And for believing me when I told you that Sunnydale wasn’t my fault. I know that was hard.

DAWN (looking away): Yeah.

WILLOW: I know this is freaky, the whole cat-thing. And how you can’t go back. And I know there are perks, but it means a lot that you’ve been so great about it.

DAWN (awkwardly): Thanks.

WILLOW: (sighs) We… the four of us… don’t communicate that well except when we’re fighting and it shouldn’t have to be that way. I know it’s been a weird year, but… you’ve been doing great.

DAWN: What brings this on all of a sudden?

WILLOW: Sooner or later we’re gonna have to team up with Angel. You know that, right?

DAWN sighs.

WILLOW: And we may not be allowed to tell them who we really are.

DAWN (angrily): What?

WILLOW (apologetic): It sucks. And I want to be able to. But it’s true that they won’t have as much faith in us as they would once they know who we are.

DAWN: That doesn’t make sense.

WILLOW: Gunn and Connor don’t know you. Spike and Angel see you as Buffy’s little sister and they’d spend all of their energy protecting you. Spike and Angel don’t trust me. They think Sunnydale’s my fault, and Gunn and Connor are going to believe whatever they’ve heard. Angel’s the only one who will be able to trust Faith, and that only shakily, and what about Kendra? They all think she’s dead.

DAWN (grouchily): I hate it when you make sense.

WILLOW: Plus, Kendra’s gonna have a hard time anyway, what with…

DAWN: Yeah. Geez.

Beat.

DAWN: Damn.

WILLOW: I hear ya.

Another beat.

DAWN: (sighs) Well, I’d better go change. (she glances down at herself) Can’t exactly patrol in a miniskirt.

WILLOW (amused): Faith would beg to differ.

DAWN: (snorts) I’m sure she would. I’ll be right out.

DAWN opens the door to her bedroom and enters, closing the door behind her. There is a hand-drawn sign taped to her door in very girly handwriting (big circles over the eyes, very curvy) that says “KEEP OUT ­ NO TRESPASSING ­ ALL INTRUDERS WILL BE KILLED AND EATEN BY SPECIALLY TRAINED TIGER ­ YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.”

WILLOW reaches forward to touch the sign.

WILLOW: (sighs) I keep thinking you’re all grown up.

CUT to the Hyperion interior: the second floor.

ANGEL walks down the hall, flicking off lights. He pauses in front of Connor’s bedroom, where there is a sign very similar to the one on Dawn’s door: “WARNING ­ SUPERNATURAL BEING WITHIN ­ KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING ­ BEWARE OF ACCURATELY THROWN WEAPONS.”

ANGEL laughs softly and we fade out.