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What's My Line, Part
1 Part 1 (October 1, 1997) Written by: Howard Gordon & Marti Noxon |
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INT. SCHOOL LOUNGE - DAY FADE UP ON BANNER- "CAREER FAIR STARTS TOMORROW" CAMERA pans down. A GUIDANCE COUNSELOR sits behind a table from which a sign hangs -"VOCATIONAL APTITUDE TESTS." WILLOW grabs a test and a number 2 pencil from the table- moves to BUFFY and XANDER, who sit filling out their forms. "Are you a people person or do you prefer keeping your own company?" What if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default? So - mark "none of the above." There is no box for "none of the above." That would introduce too many variables into their mushroom head, number-crunching little world. I'm sensing bitterness. It's just - these people can't tell from one multiple choice test what we're supposed to do for the rest of our lives. It's ridiculous. WILLOW I'm kind of curious to find out what sort of career I could have. And suck all the spontaneity out of being young and stupid? I'd rather live in the dark. We won't be young forever. I'll always be stupid. (beat) Okay, let's not all rush to disagree… You're not stupid. (looking up) Do I like shrubs? That's between you and your God. (to Willow) What'd you put? I came down on the side of shrubs. Go shrubs. Okay. (puts down pencil) I shouldn't even be bothering with this. It's all moot-ville for me. No matter what my aptitude test says - I already know my deal. Yep. High risk, sub-minimum wage… (holds up pencil) Pointy wooden things. So why are you even taking the test? It's Principal Snyder's "hoop" of the week. He's not happy unless I'm jumping. Believe me, I wouldn't be here otherwise. You're not even a teensy weensy bit curious about what kind of career you could have had? I mean, if you weren't already the Slayer and all. (snapping) Do the words "sealed" and "fate" ring any bells for you, Will? Why go there? Willow looks stung by Buffy's tone. (to Buffy) You know, with that kind of attitude you could have had a bright future as an employee of the DMV. I'm sorry. It's just - unless hell freezes over and every vamp in Sunnydale puts in for early retirement - I'd say my future is pretty much a non-issue. CUT TO: INT. FACTORY - NIGHT Speaking of vamps… Here's DRUSILLA - wrapped in a black shawl and looking even paler than usual. She stands at one end of the long dining table, laying out TAROT CARDS. She is humming, swaying- (sings/discordant) I HEAR MUSIC AND THERE'S NO ONE THERE… ALL NIGHT LONG I SEEM TO WALK ON AIR… I WONDER WHY, I WONDER WHY… ANGLE TO INCLUDE SPIKE At the other end of the table. He PACES ANXIOUSLY HOLDING A LATIN/ENGLISH DICTIONARY, while ANOTHER VAMP (DALTON) sits, carefully going over a LARGE MANUSCRIPT. DALTON has the serious look of a scholar - sort of an anti-Giles. (to Dalton) Read it again- I'm not sure… It could be… Deprimere ille bubula linter. Spike looks through the dictionary. Then reads- Debase the beef canoe. A beat. Then he SLAMS Dalton upside the head with the dictionary. Why does that strike me as not right? Drusilla turns to him, still HUMMING, and opens her arms - Spike? Come dance. Spike bristles at her voice. (flashing) Give us some peace, would you? Can't you see I'm working? Drusilla looks shocked at his outburst. Spike is instantly remorseful. He moves to her. I'm sorry, kitten. It's just - this manuscript is supposed to hold your cure, But it reads like jibberish- Drusilla turns away from him - wounded. Spike is desperate to appease her. I'm frazzled is all. I never had the Latin. Even Dalton here, the big brain, even he can't make heads or tails of it - I - I need to change Miss Edith. She starts to walk away, but falters. Suddenly weak - she tries to grab the table to keep from falling. Spike RUSHES to her side - saves her from taking a bad tumble. He moves her gently back to a chair at the table - brushing her shawl aside in the process. We see for the first time that her ARMS ARE MARKED WITH DEEP BRUISES. Spike can't look at them, averts his eyes. He kneels by her, desperate. Forgive me. You know I can't stand seeing you like this… (then/frustrated) And we're running out of time. It's that bloody slayer. Whenever I turn around she's mucking up the works. A beat. Drusilla softens. Moved by his sincere feeling. Shhhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. You'll make it right. I know. Thankful for her benediction, Spike takes her hand. Kisses it. Then he stands, full of fire - which he turns on POOR DALTON. Well? Come on now. Enlighten me. (nervous) I - It looks like Latin, but it's not. I'm not even sure it's a language. Not one I can decipher, anyway… Spike moves to him - furious. Then make it a language. Isn't that what a transcriber does? Not - not exactly. Spike GRABS DALTON. Lifts him out of his seat with ONE HAND. Ready to do some serious damage. I want the cure - At the other end of the table, DRUSILLA is STARING at the tarot cards. Glances up at SPIKE ABOUT TO POUND DALTON. Don't - Why not? Some people find pain - He SLAMS Dalton in the GUT, doubling him over. -very inspirational. Spike gets ready to punch him again. But Drusilla speaks up - DRUSILLA He can't help you. (then) Not without the key. This stops Spike cold. He turns to her. The key? You mean the book is in some kind of code? Drusilla nods. Spike drops Dalton in a heap - moves to her. She nods to A TAROT CARD she has turned. Spike follows her gaze. CLOSE ON CARD It is an etching of a ruined CRYPT, which is overgrown with ivy - prominent above a field of tilted gravestones. ON DRU AND SPIKE Is that where we'll find this key? Dru nods again. Spike grins. I'll send the boys pronto. Now will you dance? I'll dance with you, pet. On the slayer's grave. He laughs, lifts her gently into his arms - supporting her frail body as he spins her to the music only she can hear. BLACK OUT |
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EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT Dead leaves scrape and tumble
across the ground, riding a stiff wind. A storm threatens. Under
this we hear a rhythmic TINK TINK TINK. We drift among the gravestones,
landing on Buffy in a close up. She MOVING WITH BUFFY The tinking sound grows louder as she nears the mausoleum. She finds the solid iron door ajar. Torchlight flickers hellishly through the narrow margin. Buffy looks inside. WHAT SHE SEES INT. MAUSOLEUM - NIGHT A torch is set in the ground, illuminating the work of a dark figure - who FINALLY BREAKS the lock of a vault door embedded in the far wall. The thief opens the vault and GRABS something from it - then he makes for the exit. EXT. CEMETERY - CONTINUOUS - NIGHT Buffy waits for the thief to hit the exit, Then - Does "rest in peace" have no sanctity to you people? She TACKLES HIM. The thief hits the ground hard and a red velvet BAG that obviously contains something heavy falls from his hands. We see now that it's DALTON - the vamp transcriber. Oh, I forgot - you're not a people. Buffy pulls a stake, is about to dust Dalton when ANOTHER VAMPIRE Appears behind her. He's formidable - looking. He advances, unseen by Buffy… Or so we think - until she wheels, knocking him back with a vicious JUMPING KICK. Buffy grabs Vamp #2, drives him HEAD FIRST into a TREE TRUNK. He crumples to the ground. She stakes him - dusto. One down - The she spins - ready to take on DALTON. But he's history. And so is the red velvet bag he stole from the vault. On Buffy's curiosity. One gone… INT. BUFFY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT ANGEL waits for Buffy. He wanders restlessly, looking at her stuff. He does not notice as BUFFY appears at the open window. A beat as she watches him, oblivious to her. Then she TOSSES her equipment bag into the room. Angel JUMPS - turns to her - holding one of her stuffed animals. A CUTE PIG. Buffy - you scared me. She climbs inside. BUFFY She smiles, but the edge she had earlier is still evident. So. Just dropping by for some quality time with Mr. Gordo? Excuse me? The pig. Angel looks down. Sees he's still holding the stuffed toy. Oh, I, no- He puts the toy down - feeling dorky. What's up? Nothing. You don't have "nothing" face. You have "something" face. And you don't have to whisper. Mom's in L.A. till Thursday. Art buying, or something. (confesses) I wanted to make sure you were okay. I had a bad feeling. (curt) Oh surprise. Angel comes with bad news. Angel reacts to her snipe. Buffy relents. Sorry… I've been cranky miss all day. It's not you. What is it, then? We're having this thing at school- Career week? How did you know? I lurk. Oh, right. So you know, then. It's this whole week of "what's my line?" Only I don't get to play. (then) Sometimes I just want… She stops herself. You want - what? It's okay. The Cliffnotes versions? I want a normal life. Like I had before. Before me. A long beat. Buffy regards herself in her mirror. Alone. Angel, of course, does not reflect. Finally - It's not that. It's just… This career business has me contemplating the el weirdo that I am. Let's face it - instead of a job I have a calling. Okay? No chess club or football games for me. I spend my free time in grave yards and dark alleys… Is that what you want? Football games? Maybe. Maybe not. But, you know what? - I'm never going to get the chance to find out. I'm stuck in this deal. Angel reacts - he can't hide his hurt. Moves to go. I don't want you to feel stuck- Buffy realizes how she sounded. Stops him. Angel - I don't mean you. You're the one freaky thing in my freaky world that makes sense to me. (then) I just get messed sometimes - wish we could be like regular kids. He nods, relenting. I'll never be a kid. Okay then. Just a regular kid and her cradle-robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend. Angel's eyes travel to the mirror - he notices something. Was this part of your normal life? He reaches past her, plucks a photo from the mirror's frame. INSERT PHOTO A younger Buffy figure skating. Performing a perfect arabesque. RETURN Buffy softens, takes the photo from him. My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was this major shrine - Dorothy posters, Dorothy dolls. I even got the Dorothy haircut. (embarrassed) Thereby securing a place for myself in the Geek Hall of Fame. You wanted to be like her. I wanted to be her. (then) My parents used to fight a lot. Skating was an escape. I felt safe… Angel replaces the photograph in the mirror frame. When was the last time you put on your skates? Buffy thinks. Like, a couple hundred demons ago. There's a rink out past Route 17. It's closed on Tuesdays. Tomorrow's Tuesday. I know. Off the charged look between the, prelap: Just the two of you? CUT TO: INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY Between-period mayhem. Buffy opens her locker, stows her backpack inside, Willow dogging her. Alone? Unless some unforeseen evil pops up. But I'm in full see-no-evil mode. Buffy closes her locker, and we follow he and Willow down the hall. Angel, ice-skating… I know. Two worlds collide. Xander catches up to them. Severely disturbed. Wouldn't you two say you know me about as well as anyone? Maybe even better than I know myself? What's this about? (point blank) When you look at me, do you think prison guard? Buffy and Willow look him over appraisingly. Crossing guard, maybe. But prison guard? She shakes her head. XANDER They just put up the assignments for the career fair. And according to my test results, I can look forward to being gainfully employed in the growing field of corrections. At least you'll be on the right side of the bars. Laugh now, missy. They assigned you to the booth for 'law enforcement professionals.' As in police? As in polyester, donuts, and brutality. Uggh. (cheerfully) But, donuts… Buffy doesn't love this news, when something O.C. draws her attention. I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it. First I have to deal with Giles- GILES is entering the library up ahead, a foot-tall stack of books teetering under his chin. He's on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. He wants me to check in with him now every day after homeroom. She moves off. Willow turns to Xander: You didn't check to see which seminar I was assigned to, did you? I did. And you weren't. I wasn't what? On any of the lists. Willow is confused. But I handed in my test. I used a number two pencil. Then I guess you must've passed. It's not the kind of test you pass or fail. Your name wasn't up there, Will. Off Willow, who wonders why she's not on the list- INT. LIBRARY - DAY Giles struggles, trying to set the books down on a library table. They tilt, about to topple- when Buffy catches them. Oh, Buffy. Thank you. She helps ease them down for a safe landing. I've been indexing the Watcher Diaries covering the past two centuries. You'd be amazed at how numbingly long-winded some of these watchers were. Color me stunned. Giles opens his notebook. I trust last night's patrol was fruitful. Semi. I caught one out of two vamps after they stole something from this jumbo mausoleum at the cemetery- They were stealing? Yep. They had tools, torches, the whole nine yards… (then) What does that mean? The whole nine yards… nine yards of what? Now that's gonna bug me all day. When Buffy comes out of her thought bubble, she sees Giles pacing, visibly disturbed. Giles, you're in pace mode. What gives? The vampire who escaped - did you see what he took? No - but let me take a wild guess. Some old thing? I'm serious, Buffy. So am I. I bet it was downright crusty. Giles is losing patience with her. So you made no effort to find out what was taken? Buffy looks at Giles, surprised by his tone. Have a cow, Giles. I thought it was just everyday vamp hijinks. Well it wasn't. It could be very serious. If you'd made more of an effort to be thorough in your observations- (cutting him off/hurt) If you don't like the way I'm doing my job - why don't you find someone else? Oh right. "There can be only one." Long as I'm alive, there isn't anyone else. Well, there you go! I don't have to be the Slayer. I could be dead! That's not terrible funny. You'll notice I don't laugh. Wouldn't be much of a change, anyway. I mean, either way I'm bored, constricted, I never get to shop and my hair and fingernails continue to grow so really, what's the dif? Must we be introspective now? Our only concern at this moment should be to discover what was stolen from that mausoleum last night. CUT TO: A LARGE SILVER CRUCIFIX Atop a velvet pillow. The cross bar is dotted with what appears to be randomly placed HOLES, like swiss cheese. This is it, then? WIDEN AND WE ARE: INT. FACTORY - DRUSILLA'S BEDROOM - DAY Spike sits at the edge of her bed, holding the pillowed cross out to Drusilla like an offering. Drusilla's quivering hands hover over the crucifix, but don't make contact. As if she's warming them. It hums. I can hear it. Once you're well again, we'll have a coronation down Main Street. We'll invite everyone… and drink for seven days and seven nights- What about the Slayer? ANGLE TO INCLUDE DALTON
She almost blew the whole thing for us. She's trouble. (sarcastic) You don't say… Now Spike is pacing again, ramping up with every word. Trouble? She's the gnat in my ear. The gristle in my teeth. The bloody thorn in my bloody side! He slams the table with his fist - alarming even Dru. Spike- No. Smart guy is right. We have to do something. There's no way we'll complete your cure with that bitch breathing down our necks… (then/realizing) I need the big guns. They'll take of her. Once and for all. Big guns? The Order of Taranta. Dalton is clearly taken aback by the name. The bounty hunters? For the Slayer? DRUSILLA They're coming to my party, three of them. But… The Order of Taranta. I mean, don't you think that's overkill? Spike grins. Looks down at Drusilla's cards. No. I think it's just enough kill. Camera follows his look down to the cards - where three images have formed. Ominous, archetypal etchings of a CYCLOPS, an INSECT, and a JAGUAR. Creeping in on the fearsome triumvirate, we: BLACK OUT. |
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INT. SCHOOL LOUNGE - DAY A WALL CLOCK Reads 2:30. We hear the frenetic buzz of activity. The career fair is up and running. Students cluster around a dozen or more Booths manned by representatives from various professions. Among them, A PHYSICIAN, a U.S. POSTAL WORKER, and a UNIFORMED POLICEWOMAN. CAMERA drifts through the thickening crowd, finds Willow worriedly surveying the action. Xander steps up to her. What are you doing here? Fly! Be free little bird - you defy category! I'm looking for Buffy. She left with Giles an hour ago. Some kind of - "field trip" - deal. If she doesn't get back soon, Snyder's really - (suddenly perking up) -done a fantastic job setting up the fair this year, hasn't he, Xander? SNYDER has marched up to them. (facetious) Principal Snyder! Great career fair, sir. Really. In fact, I'm so inspired by your leadership - I'm thinking principal school. I want to walk in your shoes. Not your actual shoes, of course. Because you're a tiny person. Not tiny in the small sense, of course… (then) Okay. Done now. Snyder doesn't even grace this with response. (to Willow) Where is she? (innocently) Who? You know who. Oh, you mean Buffy? I just saw her- Don't feed me that I-just-saw-her-a- minute-ago-she's-around-here-somewhere story. Willow is like a deer caught in the headlights. But I did - see her a minute ago. And she is - around here somewhere. For what it's worth- It's worth nothing, Harris. Whatever sound comes out of your mouth is a meaningless waste of breath. An airborne toxic event. I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to be so honest with me. And I only hope that I'm in a position one day to be as honest with you. Snyder looks at Xander as if examining a rare bug. Fascinating. He moves off - I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment with the warden on standard riot procedure. Okay. See you- Xander moves off. Willow gives him a slightly forlorn little wave. Willow Rosenberg? She turns - ANGLE TO INCLUDE TWO SECRET SERVICE - TYPE MEN Flanking Willow - not threateningly, but commandingly. They wear identical dark suits. Come with us please? Excuse me? Let's walk. Willow reluctantly allows herself to be led past several booths to a velvet cordon, stepping up into: THE ELEVATED SECTION OF THE LOUNGE Two free-standing walls separate this area from the general population - and Willow feels like she's dropped down the rabbit hole. The space has been refurbished into a deco salon. Soft lighting. A gently BOSSA NOVA plays from hidden speakers. On the wall there is a LOGO of a company that looks STRANGELY LIKE the MICROSOFT LOGO. A white-gloved WAITER approaches with a silver tray of hors d'oevres. Try the canape. It's excellent. What is all this? You've been selected to meet with Mr. Macelroy, head recruiter for the world's leading software concern. The jet was delayed by fog at Sea-Tac, but he should be here any minute- (then) Please. Make yourself comfortable. He and suit Guy #2 start to leave, but Willow stops them. But - I didn't even get my test back. The test was irrelevant. We've been tracking you for some time. Is that a good thing? I would think so. We're extremely selective. In fact, only one other Sunnydale student met our criteria. Now Suit Man and his cohort exit through the partition. Willow takes in her surroundings, stunned. She turns - sees, for the first time, that OZ IS THE OTHER STUDENT SUIT MAN was referring to. He's sitting on a plush couch, looking unfazed - as usual. When he sees Willow, his expression registers the coolest hint of delight. Willow moves to the couch - sits next to him. An awkward beat. This whole thing is too strange. Finally, OZ lifts the hors d'oevres. Offers one to Willow. Canape? INT. CEMETERY - DAY - MOVING Giles tries to keep pace with Buffy, who moves at a brisk clip, still hurt from before. She carries a flashlight. Buffy. Please. Slow down. Get with the program, Giles. We have work to do, remember? You're behaving in a terrible immature manner- Bingo. You know why? I am immature! I'm a teen! I've yet to mature! I was simply offering a little constructive criticism- You were harsh. You act like I picked this gig. But I'm the picked. Too bad if I want a normal job. What you have is more than a… gig. It's a sacred duty. Buffy gives him a "been there, heard that" look. Giles scrambles - trying to calm her. Which shouldn't prevent you from eventually procuring a more… mundane form of employment if you like. Such as I have. It's one thing being a Watcher and a librarian. They go together - like chicken and… another chicken. Two chickens. Or something. Off Giles' look. You know what I'm saying - you can spend all your time with a bunch of books and no one blinks. But what can I do? Carve stakes for a nursery? Point taken. I suppose I've never really thought about- (stops; then) Tell me. Have you ever considered law enforcement? Buffy blinks. Though she's spared from having to answer because they've come to the mausoleum. This is the place. Buffy pulls open the heavy iron door, enters, Giles following her into: INT. MAUSOLEUM - DAY Buffy clicks on her flashlight, guiding the beam through the dusty gloom. She leads Giles to the open vault door. May I? Be my guest. Giles takes the flashlight. Shines it into the empty vault. It's a reliquary, used to house items of religious significance. Most commonly, a finger or some other body part from a saint. Note to self: Religion - freaky. Giles turns, paints the wall with the flashlight beam-which now falls across letters carved in the granite above the doorway: du Lac. Du Lac… (with recognition and concern) Oh dear. Buffy reacts to his tone. I hate when you say that. Josephus du Lac is buried here. Was he a saint? Hardly. He belonged to a sect of priests who were excommunicated by the Vatican at the turn of the century. Excommunicated and sent to Sunnydale. Must have been big with the sinning. Remember the book that was stolen from the library by a vampire a few weeks back? It was written by du Lac and his cohorts - (frustrated) Damn it. In all the excitement, I let it slip my mind - I'm guessing it wasn't a Taste of the Vatican Cookbook. The book is said to contain rituals and spells that reap unspeakable evil. However, it was written in archaic Latin - so nobody but the sect members could read it. Then everything's cool. The sect is gone. Worm food like old du Lac, right? I don't like it, Buffy. First the book is taken from the library. Now vampires steal something from du Lac's tomb… You think they've figured out how to read the book? I don't know. But something's coming, Buffy. And I guarantee, whatever it is - it's not good. With which Giles moves off purposefully, Buffy following. Hold on the black interior of the vault - EXT. BUS STATION - DAY The sign on the brick wall reads: SUNNYDALE. A BUS rumbles into frame, squeals to a stop in a cloud of exhaust. CLOSE ON THE STAIRS OF THE BUS We hear the doors open with a hydraulic hiss. A passenger gets off. And another. Then an ENORMOUS PAIR OF BOOTS fill the frame. We pan up to see a GIANT. Seven feet tall in boots, and a hard four hundred pounds. A think, milky cataract covers one eye. His other eye is set deep in the fleshy mask of assorted scars and carbuncles he calls a face. His name is OCTARUS. And as he descends the stairs and moves out of frame- CUT TO: EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY A mild-mannered man in a suit too large for his slight frame strides down the sidewalk, toting a brief case and whistling. His name is MR. PFISTER. He moves past a familiar house - past the sidewalk mail box on which is stenciled the name "SUMMERS." He moves up the walk of the ADJACENT house. ANOTHER ANGLE Mr. Pfister climbs the stoop, and rings the doorbell. He mechanically adjusts the knot in his tie. He smiles at the tired-looking HOUSEWIFE who opens the door. Mrs. Kalish? Yes? I'm Norman Pfister, with Quintessence Skin Care. I'm not selling anything, so I'm not asking you to buy. (holds up case) Just to accept a few free samples. Free? Absolutely. She considers him for a moment, then opens the door for him. He enters past her, and she closes the door. Hold for a beat. Another beat. Then an ear-splitting SCREAM issues from behind the closed door. Prelap the thundering sound of four JET ENGINES, as: CUT TO:
A 767 comes in for a landing. INT. 767 CARGO HOLD - DAY Dark. Jet engines rev down. We hear METALLICA bleeding up. KA-CHUNK. The hatch opens. Sunlight blasts inside. Along with the heavy metal. A BAGGAGE HANDLER climbs into the hold, boom box cranked up past eleven. CREEPING POV Someone - or something - observes the handler from behind the cargo netting. As he begins downloading luggage onto the conveyor belt. ANGLE : HANDLERS The baggage handler pauses to air guitar a solo, when he sees a SILHOUETTE dart between crates, then melt into the shadows. What the hell - He kills the tape, starts toward the shadows. Hey! You're not supposed to be in here! But there's no answer. Come on - His thought is CUT SHORT by a series of BLOWS which come out of nowhere, rocks him back on his heels. He falls to the floor, moaning slightly so we know he's not dead. FOOTSTEPS echo. A shadow stretches across the fallen handler. Camera tracks slowly along the lengthening shadow to the open hatch, where the silhouetted figure now stands. We stop on an ETHNIC YOUNG WOMAN, her feline, feral eyes getting used to the sudden light. She's a predator, a hunter, and her name is KENDRA. And as she jumps out of frame, onto the tarmac - EXT. SUNNYDALE HIGH - LATE DAY (STOCK)
INT. LIBRARY Buffy, Willow, and Xander sit around the table. (to Buffy) So Giles is sure that the vampire who stole his book is connected to the one you slayed last night? Or is it "slew?" Both are correct. Giles emerges from the stacks with a yellowed periodical. And yes. I'm sure. Giles sets the magazine down before them. It's a National Geographic, circa 1921. du Lac was both a theologian and a mathematician. This article describes an invention of his, which he called the du Lac Cross. Why go to all the trouble of inventing something and then give a weak name like that? I'd have gone with "Cross-o-matic!" or "The Amazing Mr. Cross!" Xander is getting the stare again. He stops. Then Giles indicates a yellowing photo of the stolen crucifix. Willow peruses the accompanying article. The cross was more than a symbol. It was also used to understand certain mystical texts - to decipher hidden meanings and so forth. You're saying these vampires went to all that trouble for your basic decoder ring? Giles regards her for a blank beat. Then: Actually, I guess I am. (re: article) According to this, du Lac destroyed every one of the crosses - except the one buried with him. Why destroy his own work? I suppose he feared what might happen if the cross fell into the wrong hands. A fear we'll soon get to experience for ourselves, up close and personal. Unless we preempt their plans. How? By learning what was in the book before they do. Giles regards the group with grim purpose. Which means we can expect to be here late tonight. Goody! Research party! Will, you need a life in the worst way. Speaking of… I have to bail. I promise I'll be back bright and early, perky and ready to slay. Giles looks at her, perplexed. This is a matter of some urgency, Buffy. I know. But you have to admit, I lack in the book area. You guys are the brains. I'd just be around for moral support- That's not true, Buffy. You totally contribute. You go for snacks. Willow and Buffy exchange a quick glance. Will knows what's up. She should go. You know, gather her strength? Perhaps you're right. There may be fierce battles ahead. But - Ho Ho's are a vital part of my cognitive process. Sorry, Xand. I have something I really need to do tonight- Off Giles and Xander's curious faces. INT. SKATING RINK - NIGHT CLOSE ON A PAIR OF ICE SKATES as they SHAVE THE ICE, stopping on a dime. WIDEN TO INCLUDE BUFFY Alone on the ice, which seems to glow from the moonlight filtering in from the high-grimy windows. She breathes in the cool air - takes off again. MOVING WITH BUFFY As she enters a clear frame, picking up speed. Remembering the movement. And the rush. Her blowing hair frames a smile she hasn't allowed herself in the longest time. ANGLE - POV FROM BLEACHERS Watching Buffy skate. Spinning into a tight pirouette. She's good. She's very good. REVERSE ANGLE The darkness seems to shift - as a face distinguishes itself from the shadows. Watching Buffy. It's Octarus. The HUGE, SCARY GUY. As we - BLACK OUT. |
