Hellbound
(Wolfram & Hart – Science Lab – Night)
(Fred is walking down the hall toward the laboratory alone. As she rounds the corner, the camera goes through the wall and enters the lab. A man walks out of the lab as Fred walks in.)
Fred: Oh! Good night.
Man: Good night.
(Fred stands by a lab desk reading papers in her file when she senses something or someone behind her. Startled, she gasps and turns to see, but there's no one there. When she turns back around, she sees Spike standing right in front of her. Fred lets out a little scream and drops her papers.)
Spike: (seems defeated) How long did you know I was there? (turns around)
Fred: Uh, just since the lobby. But that popping up behind me was really scary. Look, I dropped my papers.
(picks them up)
Spike: Nice touch.
Fred: Thanks.
Spike: I'd give you a hand with that, but... (runs his hand right through some science equipment)
Fred: Still no interaction?
Spike: Not a twinge. Can't spirit the knickknacks about. Can't willie the locals. Bloody sad ghost I turned out.
Fred: I've told you before you're not a ghost.
Spike: Chipper. Give us a hug. (holds out his arms)
Fred: You know what I mean. You're more than a common spectral disturbance. I've never seen anything like you. (scans Spike with a beeping instrument)
Spike: Bet you say that to all the spirits.
Fred: Oh, your radiant heat signature's dropped another .02 degrees.
Spike: Thought it was a bit nippy.
Fred: Is everything...are you...
Spike: (crosses his arms) Feeling the tug of eternal damnation? Maybe that's why I can't touch anything. Using all my mentalies just to keep from slipping into hell.
Fred: I won't let that happen. I've been working on a theory. Well, more of a hunch, actually, but I think I'm getting close.
Spike: To making me a real boy again?
Fred: Heh. As real as a vampire with a soul can be. It won't be like Angel's thing with the prophecy, but...
Spike: What prophecy?
Fred: The shan-shoe-ha something or 'nother. Says that if Angel helps enough people, he gets to be human again.
Spike: Oh. Really. (nods) Goody for him.
Fred: Ah! That totally makes sense.
Spike: What does?
Fred: The fluctuations in your readings. Lack of particle cohesion. It's almost as if your essence is straddling a dimensional void, which may be the key, assuming that the amulet you used to save the world is some sort of trans-reality amplifier capable of focusing massive quantities of mystical energy.
Spike: And what in the King's English does that mean to the dearly almost departed?
Fred: It means that if I can defy most of the laws of nature, there's a good chance I'll be able to anchor you to this plane and make you corporeal.
Spike: (smiles sweetly) Well... might be a hug in your future after all. (tries to lean on the nearby lab desk, but falls through and disappears)
Fred: Spike?
(Basement)
(Spike fell through the floors all the way to the basement, landing flat on his face.)
Spike: (laughs) Brilliant. (He stands, notices a repetitive chopping sound nearby, and walks down the hall toward it. There's a man at the end of the hall, sitting at a table, chopping something with his back to Spike.) Don't mean to interrupt the sitting in the dark basement, mate, but could you point the quickest way back to the lab? As the ghost flies— (As Spike walks closer to the man at the table, he can see that the man is chopping off his fingers one by one. The man turns to face Spike, and reveals his lipless cut-up face with gashes all over his eyes and cheeks. Spike does a double-take and the man at the table has disappeared.) Take that as a "no," then.
(Hallway)
(Lorne's walking down the hallway talking on his cell phone.)
Lorne: Bubie, I negotiated that deal with my own 2 horns. Second billing right after gwyneth. Yeah. No, stop crying, stop crying. It's OK you put on a couple of pounds since casting. Yeah, they can't just— (waves to Fred who walks past him) No, no, no, no. Just put the pills down. I'll straighten this out. If I can't, I'll take a handful myself. (gets on the elevator)
(Wesley’s Office)
(Fred walks into Wesley's office, rips off a piece of paper from her notepad, and places the paper on Wes's desk in front of him.)
Fred: I need these as soon as possible. (turns to walk out of the room)
Wesley: Hello, Wesley. Nice to see you.
Fred: (turns back to face Wesley) Oh. Sorry. Little preoccupied.
Wesley: (reads from the paper) The Magdalene Grimoire, Necronomicon des Mortes, Hochstadter's Treatise on Fractal Geometry in 12-dimensional Space. "Preoccupied" might not be the word we're looking for.
Fred: How fast can I get 'em?
Wesley: Half of these are antiquities of the rarest order. (stands, walks toward her) If I exploit every connection I've made over the last month as the new head of research and intelligence... 20 minutes.
Fred: Great. Let me know when they're in.
Wesley: (leans against his desk) Under one condition... dinner.
Fred: (looks startled) Oh, I, uh...
Wesley: I mean you, having one, a real one. When's the last time you had anything besides day-old takeout? Or had more than a nap up in your lab?
Fred: (nods) I'm OK. Really. 20 minutes? Thanks. And don't worry. I am totally, completely... (turns to walk out and is startled when she sees Eve standing there) Aah!
Eve: Hey. Got a sec?
(Angel’s Office)
(Angel is sitting behind his desk, with Eve standing beside him. Fred is in a chair sitting across the desk from Angel.)
Angel: Ahem. Um, I know difficult it's been going from a small detective agency to... running Wolfram & Hart. And we've all been adjusting, but...
Fred: It's OK. Wes just gave me the talk. And I'm going to have a good meal and at least 6 hours of sleep, so everybody can just stop worrying. I'm fine. Really.
Angel: Good. That's... (glances at Eve) Actually, there's some concern about how much the Practical Science Department's been spending.
Fred: Oh. Um... yeah, I guess I may have gone over my projections by a few—
Eve: $800,000. That's how much you've exceeded your quarterly budget. And the quarter ain't over yet, sweetie. (sits of the edge of Angel's desk)
Fred: Look, I—I know it sounds like—I mean, it is a lot of money, but I—I'm trying to do something that's never been done before. So, yeah, attempting to recorporealize Spike is gonna cost—
Angel: (holds his hands out in a stopping motion) Whoa! Trying to do what?
Fred: Make Spike corporeal again like you asked.
Angel: Uh, no, what I asked for was for you to try to find a way to get Spike out of Wolfram & Hart.
Fred: Angel... (stands) We accepted the offer to take over the L.A. Branch of an evil, multi-dimensional law firm because we thought we could make a difference. Use the resources of Wolfram & Hart to do something decent.
Angel: And how does that have anything to do with Spike?
Fred: He just saved the world. Vampire with a soul fighting for the good of humanity. Ring anything? He's just like you, a champion.
Angel: (crosses his arms) God, I really hate that word.
Fred: Think of what an asset he'd be fighting on our side.
Angel: Except he won't be. I know Spike better than anyone, and he only cares about himself.
Fred: And Buffy.
Eve: Well, this is getting interesting.
Angel: (rolls his eyes) You're right. He does care about Buffy. So, where do you think he's gonna run off to as soon as his fresh, new feet hit the ground?
Fred: Is that what this is about? You're afraid he's gonna come back and try to get with your ex again?
Angel: I just want you to be careful, Fred, because I know how charming Spike can be.
Eve: He is quite the dish, with those eyes...
Fred: And the hair and the cheeks and— What do you think I am, stupid? I know he's been playing me with the looks and the smiles. I'm not some idiot schoolgirl with a crush.
Angel: Then what is it?
Fred: It's about doing what's right. Remember?
Angel: Your department. Your call. Just don't be disappointed if it doesn't work. Some people can't be saved.
(Science Lab)
(Spike reappears in the laboratory, but it's empty.)
Spike: (sighs) Never a fetching mad scientist about when you need one. (sees Fred's notes sitting on a lab desk, sighs) Whatever you're cobbling together, pet, I think you better hurry it along. (He notices a desk lamp blinking and buzzing across the room and walks toward it. A dark shadow passes quickly behind him.) Done chopping your feelers off in the basement? Floating upstairs for a few chuckles now? (Right outside the lab, another light starts blinking on and off and buzzing.) Right. Vampire ghost here, ya sod. Bloody well invented afraid of the dark. (walks toward the light)
(Hallway)
(Spike can see a row of ceiling lights going off one by one, seemingly directing him down the hallway.)
Spike: Bugger this. I'm not playing follow the blinking light for the rest of the— (he hears a woman crying at the end of the hall) All right. Lured me here with the creepshow. Now what?
(Spike walks up to the woman, who's crouched on the ground crying. She's dressed as a maid from the late 19th century with a frilly white hat and an apron. When he gets near, she stands and holds out stubs of what once were arms.)
Armless Ghost Woman: Please...hold me... Hold me, please. It's coming.
(Spike does a double-take, and the woman is gone.)
(Angel’s Office)
(Angel walks out of the elevator into his office, where Spike is standing, waiting for him.)
Spike: So, what's on the 'genda? Rousting a nest of venomous retirement plans?
Angel: (rolls his eyes, pours a drink of blood from a crystal decanter) Shop's closed, Spike. Come back and haunt me tomorrow.
Spike: Air's too rarefied up here for my taste, anyhows. Down with the dregs is where I belong, isn't it?
Angel: And yet he's still here. (walks toward his window)
Spike: Just thought we could hang is all. Couple of vampires from the old days doing our... hangy thing.
Angel: You're starting to feel it, aren't you? How close you are now... to hell?
Spike: What if I am? Not like it's such a big, bleeding deal, is it? If a ponce like you could break out—
Angel: I never escaped from hell. All I got was a short reprieve. Not even sure how I managed that.
Spike: Oh, put your martyr away, Mahatma. Fred told me all about your great, shining prophecy. Pile up all your good deeds and get the big brass ring handed to you like everything else.
Angel: (turns to face Spike) Except for one small catch. The prophecy's a bunch of bull. They all are. Nothing's written in stone or fated to happen, Spike. You save the world, you end up running an evil law firm.
Spike: Or playin' Casper with one foot in the fryer.
Angel: (walks close around Spike, whispering in his ear) You think any of it matters? The things we did? The lives we destroyed. That's all that's ever gonna count. So, yeah, surprise. You're going to hell. We both are. (sits on couch)
Spike: Then why even bother? (scoffs) Try to do the right thing, make a difference...
Angel: What else are we gonna do?
Spike: So that's it, then. I really am going to burn.
Angel: Welcome to the club.
Spike: (sighs, sits on the couch beside Angel) Least I got company, eh? You and me, together again. Hope and Crosby. Stills and Nash. Chico and the—
Angel: Yeah, are we done?
Spike: Never much for small talk, were you? Always too busy trying to perfect that brooding block-of-wood mystique. God, I love that.
Angel: Not as much as I loved your nonstop yammering.
Spike: The way you always had to be the big swingy, swaggerin' around, barkin' orders...
Angel: Never listening...
Spike: Always interrupting...
Angel: And your hair. What color do they call that, radioactive?
Spike: Never much cared for you, Liam, even when we were evil.
Angel: Cared for you less.
Spike: Fine.
Angel: Good. (beat) There was one thing about you...
Spike: Really?
Angel: Yeah, I never told anybody about this, but I—I liked your poems.
Spike: (frowns) You like Barry Manilow.
(Spike is distracted when he notices a man hanging from the ceiling.)
Angel: What is it?
Spike: Don't you see it?
Angel: See what?
Spike: Nothing. Too much talk of fire and brimstone. (looks over Angel's shoulder and sees the hanging man standing there)
Angel: What?
(Time Lapse)
(An agitated Spike is pacing the room, being questioned by Angel, Wesley, and Fred.)
Angel: Right now?
Spike: Yes. Right now. Right here. (to ghosts) Piss off! I'm trying to have a conversation here! Shut up!
Wesley: (to Angel) Who's he talking to?
Angel: Ghosts.
Fred: Where? (a ghost walks behind Fred, unnoticed)
Spike: Everywhere. The blighters are coming out of the woodwork! (to ghosts) No, I am not talking to you! Go away!
Gunn: We just checked with security.
Eve: They do hourly sweeps with the mystics to secure against spectral intrusion.
Angel: So how many are we dealing with?
Gunn: None. Last sweep was 10 minutes ago. Spike's the only non-corporeal in the building.
Armless Ghost Woman: (whispering, circling Spike) It's coming for you.
Spike: Check again.
Fred: Maybe we should go back to the lab—
Spike: (seeing ghosts all around him) No, I'm telling you, they're here. You have to check again. Something's happening—
Hanging Ghost Man: It's...here.
Spike: (exhales) Fred, please, you have to use that perfect brain of yours and get me the hell out of here. (fades away)
Fred: Spike?
Eve: Where'd he go?
Angel: It's OK. He does this sometimes.
Spike: Does what?
Fred: We should spread out, see if we can find him. We just need to find him. (everyone exits the room)
Spike: What are you going on about? I haven't gone anywhere. Fred? I'm here. I'm—I'm still here! Fred! (walks out after them)
(Lobby)
Male Voice: She can't help you now, William. No one can. (chuckles)
(Spike stands in the lobby, looking over his shoulder, talking back to the voice that just spoke to him.)
Spike: Is this the part where I say, "who's there?" And something creepy happens? (A black shadow glides quickly across the balcony.) Thought so. (He walks up the stairs toward the shadow, when the elevator bell dings, the doors open, and the light shows it's going down.) Oh, no. Haunted lift. Take a slice more to wet my knickers. (sighs, walks into the elevator)
(Wesley’s Office)
(Wesley, Gunn, and Fred walk in.)
Wesley: Angel does have a point. Spike has been unintentionally disapparating more and more frequently.
Gunn: Give him 20 minutes. He'll be popping up next to you in the bathroom, making cracks about your—
(looks at Wesley) Am I the only one he does that to?
Fred: I know he's done this before, but you saw the way he was acting. Something's different this time. He's agitated, hallucinating.
Gunn: Ghosts can do that?
Wesley: We are dealing with a unique case here as far as manifestations go. Dementia isn't completely out of the question.
Fred: He's not crazy.
Gunn: Screaming about people who aren't there? That's grounds for involuntary committal under the Lanterman-Petris-Short Act which states— Oh, sorry. Sometimes the law they stuffed in my noggin just clicks on.
Fred: You don't know what Spike's dealing with, where he goes when he disappears. He told me. It's hell.
(dramatic close-up) He's slipping into hell.
Gunn: Kinda figured.
Wesley: Of course.
Gunn: Where else would he be headed?
(Basement)
(The elevator dings, the doors open, and Spike steps out into the basement.)
Spike: Had to be the basement. (hears the chopping sound again) I already played this one out. Not like another round's gonna rattle my knobs.
(He walks toward the table at the end of the hall, but the man isn't sitting at the table anymore. His chopped-off fingers are still there, twitching. A business-woman appears out of the corner. She's got a shard of glass sticking out of her left eye.)
Glass Ghost Woman: (singsong) It's gonna get you. (giggles)
Spike: What exactly would it be, love?
Glass Ghost Woman: Reaper's gonna take you. (giggling)
Spike: The reaper? Tall, grim fellow with a scythe? Is that what all this boogie-boogie's been about?
Glass Ghost Woman: It hurts...
Spike: I been knocking around the land of the lost for months now, pretty as you please. Slipped through the cracks, did I?
Glass Ghost Woman: (pulls the shard of glass out of her eye) Don't worry, William. Haven't forgotten you. (slices Spike's face with the sharp glass)
(Science Lab)
(Fred is working on equations in her lab.)
Fred: Carry the quotient load across the remainder... support the imbalance with Lumirea's fourth constant...
Spike: (apparates, talks to Fred) Think I know what they are... the things I been seeing. They're the welcoming party. Guess hell got tired of waitin'. Reaching out for me now. Sent their boy around to collect me.
Fred: (looking at papers) I knew it.
Spike: Knows my name. Knows how to hurt me. I wanted to thank you, pet. How you tried to help. Wanted to tell you what that meant to me before I—
Fred: Damn, I'm good!
Spike: You are?
Fred: Frickin' genius! Just cancel out the radical...
Spike: (looks up, gives the finger, and chuckles victoriously) Thought you had me, didn't ya?
Fred: Which causes a feedback wave that liquefies half of Los Angeles.
Spike: What?
Fred: Oh! I'll never figure this out!
Spike: Yes, you will! Genius, remember? Don't throw in now, Fred. Please!
(Spike reaches out emphatically toward Fred, and his hand creates a spark of electricity near Fred's shoulder, making her jump.)
Fred: (gasps, looks around) Spike?
Spike: That's right, love. You felt it, too, didn't you? I'm here! I'm still here. No! She can feel me. You're not taking me yet! You're not taking me!
Fred: Spike, if it's you, give me some sort of— (looks around the room, startled when she sees Angel standing there) Oh! Would everybody please stop doing that?
Angel: Sorry. I just wanted to let you know—
Fred: Angel, something was in the lab. It—it touched me. I think maybe it was—
Angel: Fred, we did another sweep with the mystics. They didn't find anything.
Fred: Screw the mystics. I know what I felt. We have to find a way to contact him before he's really gone.
(Conference Room)
(Wesley and Gunn are sitting at the conference table with Fred and Angel.)
Wesley: Perhaps we should reconsider this.
Gunn: You think? Seen enough horror flicks to know these things always turn out ugly. (Eve escorts a pretty blonde woman in a red dress into the room) I stand corrected.
Psychic: All right. Let's get to it. Eve tells me that you've lost a ghostie.
Fred: Well, he's not actually a ghost technically. More of a—
Psychic: Yeah, whatever. (sits at the head of the table) Now, I have pilates at the crack of why-am-I-awake? So we're gonna move this right along. I will mutter a few calming words to get us into the zone, and then we'll see if we can scare up your missing spook. OK. Clear your minds... which, judging by the looks of you, won't be that hard.
Fred: Should we hold hands?
Psychic: Only if you're lonely. Now, zip it and let me do my sweet funky. (inhales, exhales) I call upon the guardian of souls, the keeper of the passage. Let our breath flow from what is to what has passed. Bless us with the presence of the lost. Grant us communion with the world beyond our reach. Give voice to those who can no longer be heard. I beseech you, open your gates... reveal your secrets. (her eyes open with a start) I sense a presence.
Spike: Damn right you do.
Psychic: Very close.
Spike: Skip the claptrap and tell them to get me out of here.
Psychic: So much pain...
Fred: He's in pain?
Psychic: The dark soul... so much suffering.
Spike: Dark. Pain. Suffering. They've got it. Now tell them to help me!
Psychic: It's coming...it's coming...
Spike: I'm already here. What are you going on about?
Psychic: (frightened) Oh, God. I can feel it. The dark soul...it's here. It's... it's the R...
Spike: The Reaper! The bloody freakin' Reaper! Go on, tell 'em!
Psychic: It's the— (the woman grabs her own throat, trying to pull at her necklace) Aah!
Gunn: Whoa!
Fred: What's happening?
(The psychic woman is choking.)
Angel: Spike, stop it.
Spike: It's not me, you git.
Angel: Let her go. (stands, goes to the woman)
(The woman sits up, gasps as if she's regaining her composure. She has a slight nosebleed. She exhales.)
Fred: Are you all right?
(The psychic woman explodes in blood all over Fred, then collapses.)
(Angel’s Office)
(Gunn and Wesley walk out of the conference room into Angel's office to talk alone.)
Gunn: OK, what the hell was that? I know they used to call Spike "William the Bloody," but why would he go all Scanners on her?
Wesley: He wouldn't. No advantage in it to kill someone trying to help him.
Gunn: You saying it was an accident?
Wesley: Or whatever she contacted wasn't the "dark soul" we were expecting.
Gunn: So if she wasn't talking about Spike...
Wesley: Then there's something else here at Wolfram & Hart. Something else a hell of a lot worse.
(Science Lab)
(The sound of running water can be heard as the camera goes through the lab toward a shower. Fred is taking a steamy shower. Spike is standing there, outside the shower stall, talking to himself.)
Spike: Why did it kill her? Reaper's supposed to take souls, not make 'em. If it's come for me...couldn't have been worried she was gonna help. She didn't even know I was there. Unless it wasn't about me. (looks at Fred in the shower) Fred, I think I know why it killed her. It was trying to hide something, something it didn't want you to know because— (He reaches out and touches his hand to the glass. He's surprised that he can do this, and he tries again, this time his hand goes through the glass.) Come on. Just...reach out.
(Spike tries again, concentrating, and manages to write in the condensation on the shower stall glass. When Fred finishes her shower, she starts to walk out and notices the word "REAPER" in the mist on the glass. As she notices it, the glass shatters and Spike is pulled through the wall out of the lab and into the lobby.)
(Lobby)
(Spike is lying on the floor as a man in a business suit walks up the stairs. Spike stands.)
Spike: Come on, then. No more games. No more hiding in the shadows. Let's do this... right and proper. A lawyer?
(The lawyer looks fairly normal until he turns to walk toward Spike, revealing that one side of his face is bashed in and bloody.)
Bloody Ghost Lawyer: (whispering, walks past Spike) William...
Armless Ghost Woman: (reaches out for Spike with her stubs) Please...
Spike: (turns, walks away down the stairs) No!
Glass Ghost Woman: (moans as he walks past her on the stairs) It hurts...
Spike: (standing in the main lobby floor now) No! I'm not talking to flunkies anymore! You hear that?! Got your number, don't I? You're sending in third-rates to rattle my chains. You're just some little twit of a spirit trying to have a go at me, aren't you? Big bad reaper, come to take me to hell. Not bloody likely. (Spike falls to the ground suddenly as he has painful visions of torture) Aah! Aah!
Reaper: (chuckling) Oh, yes. Take you screaming. An eternity of suffering for your sins. (the Reaper appears to Spike for the first time, standing over him, dressed in a cloak reminiscent of Jack-the-Ripper, speaking in an English accent) But first.. I get to play. (fondles his torture instruments) Let's get started, then... shall we?
(Wesley’s Office)
(Angel, Gunn, and Wesley are sifting through books in Wes's office.)
Gunn: (holding an open book) Got it. The dark soul.
Angel: What's it say?
Gunn: A lot. There are over 3,200 different references. 4 of them are about you.
Angel: What? Give me that.
Wesley: This is getting us nowhere.
Angel: Let me see this. Well, that's not fair. I didn't even have a soul when I did that.
Wesley: There has to be a way to narrow down the search.
(Fred runs into the room.)
Fred: Reaper. Cross reference with the word "reaper."
Gunn: Where'd you pull that?
Fred: It came to me in the shower.
Angel: Here it is. Matthias Pavayne, dark soul number 182.
Wesley: Pavayne... (stands, goes to his computer)
Angel: Well, there's not much here. European aristocrat, 18th century. He was a doctor, nicknamed "The Reaper" for performing unnecessary surgery on his patients.
Fred: Well, what kind of surgery?
Wesley: The kind you don't recover from. There's a file on him in internal archives, classified histories.
Gunn: He worked for Wolfram & Hart?
Wesley: Not exactly. "Word spread of his unorthodox practices... fled to California, still under Spanish rule at the time. His arrival coincided with a rash of brutal, ritualistic murders. Pieces of the victims placed in a manner suggesting an intimate knowledge of the dark arts."
Fred: Pieces?
Wesley: "The slaughter continued for the better part of 20 years. The perpetrator was never caught." At least... not by the authorities.
Angel: What, you're saying Wolfram & Hart took this guy out?
Fred: Why would they do that?
Gunn: Sounds like their idea of employee of the month.
Wesley: Because they needed his blood. "Representatives from Wolfram & Hart were looking to build a new branch in what would eventually become Los Angeles. Unfortunately a Spanish mission was already resting on the site their seers recommended." They needed an appropriate sacrifice to deconsecrate the grounds.
Fred: So this place is built on the blood of a mass-murdering psychopath?
Wesley: It would appear so.
Gunn: But if Pavayne's half as bad as he sounds, he should've been roasting his chestnuts in hell centuries ago.
Angel: You said something about the dark arts, right? Maybe he knew enough to figure out a way to stick around.
Fred: That might explain why the mystics can't get a bead on him, too.
Angel: What I still don't get are all the ghosts at Wolfram & Hart.
Wesley: But there aren't any.
Angel: That's what I mean. High-risk employment. People die here all the time. This place should be full of spooks. So what happened to them?
Gunn: Maybe this Pavayne character's munching on them.
Fred: Whatever he's doing to them, we need to get Spike back... before he's next.
(Science Lab)
(Spike is face-down on the lab floor, clawing his way across the room, trying to get away from Pavayne. There are cuts all over his hands and face.)
Reaper/Pavayne: Vampire soul... watch it struggle. More fun than the others.
Spike: Go to hell. (looks up and sees that Pavayne is in front of him now)
Pavayne: Your journey, not mine. (notices Fred walk back into her office) Oh, the pretty. Still trying to save you. Such passion, so...wet and sweet. Perhaps I'll have a taste one day. (Spike gets up off the ground and throws a punch at Pavayne's head, but his fist goes right through it. Pavayne laughs.) Still thinking like meat and bone. None here, boy. In this place...
(Basement)
(Spike and Pavayne are no longer in the lab and appear suddenly in the basement.)
Pavayne: ...all rules are mine. Reality bends. My desire. The way it was meant to...
Spike: Bending reality? I didn't just fade away. It was you. That's why they can't see me anymore.
Pavayne: Parlor tricks. To amuse... like your blood. (Spike's wounds disappear, Pavayne chuckles) Oh, yes. Nothing here without the will. Your voice... your body...
Glass Ghost Woman: Clothes you think you wear...
(Spike's clothes disappear, and he stands naked, being circled by the ghosts.)
Pavayne: William the Bloody. Scourge and destroyer. But scratch the surface...
Armless Ghost Woman: Little nancy, still crying for his mother.
Pavayne: Know all your hiddens, dirty red things you've done. Then fell in love. Won himself a soul. No more dirty things. Thinks himself special.
Glass Ghost Woman: Thinks it matters.
Hanging Ghost Man: Hell still waits.
Pavayne: Knows he deserves it, like all the others.
Spike: You killed them.
Pavayne: No. Died themselves. Here, in the service of Wolfram & Hart. Little ants, scurrying from the flames.
Spike: Their spirits hung on. Tried to keep from tumbling into hell. Till you gave 'em a shove.
Pavayne: Burning now. Screaming forever. Like you'll scream.
Spike: If they're in hell, they can't be here then, can they? Just more of your tricks. They aren't real.
Pavayne: Real enough. (The hanging man attacks Spike, driving a knife into his back.) Hell always hungers for the wicked, boy, and it's feeding time.
(Fred’s Office)
(Wesley, Gunn, and Angel walk into Fred's office, and she's writing formulas on the windows.)
Wesley: That's never good.
Fred: What? Oh, no, I... I just ran out of white board. I'm not crazy. Again.
Gunn: Just scary smart.
Angel: You really think this will bring Spike back?
Fred: Well, I had to extrapolate a new variation on interdimensional plasma dynamics on the fly, but... if the math holds...
Angel: All right. First we'll try to get Spike back, and then we'll deal with Pavayne.
Fred: Wait. For this to work, it's going to require a massive surge of dark energy to catalyze the process.
Angel: How massive?
Fred: The equivalent of nuclear evil.
Angel: Well, where the hell are we supposed to find that?
Wesley: Well...there is a legend that tells of a volcano deep in the forbidden jungles of South Africa.
Gunn: (cuts Wesley off) Or... I might know a place a little closer to home.
(The White Room)
(Angel and Gunn are standing in a huge warehouse-sized room that's painted entirely white.)
Angel: The white room?
Gunn: Why do you think they call it that? And how are we still in the building, when we're standing in a place that technically doesn't exist.
Angel: So this is your brainstorm. You want to try and to snip off a piece of the conduit that connects Wolfram & Hart to the other dimensions.
Gunn: "Want" may be a hair strong.
Angel: Last conduit took the form of that creepy little girl. No telling what the new one's decided to look like.
Gunn: Actually, it's not that bad... (animal growls and snuffles off-screen) ...if you like cats.
Angel: I'm kind of a dog person.
Gunn: (animal snarls) Ix-nay on the og-day.
Angel: Um...look, we're not here to ruffle anything. (holds up an empty flask) We were just wondering if we maybe could borrow a couple of whiskers or—
Gunn: (animal snarls, Gunn takes the flask from Angel) Whoa. Hey, easy. It's me. Charles Gunn. You know I wouldn't be here if the situation wasn't heavy. Just asking for a little help: Me to you, personal favor. What do you say? (soft growl, a black panther appears in the room) Yeah. (Gunn smiles, leopard purrs) Who's a good kitty? (Gunn pets the leopard)
(Basement)
(A completely naked Spike is lying on the floor, cringing in the fetal position, as Pavayne leans over him taking mad joy in torturing him.)
Pavayne: Disappointing. (Spike shudders in pain) I expected more from soul of vampire. Too much conscience, perhaps, weighing it down. (A portal opens up in the basement right in front of Spike. It's black and slick like oil. The portal has a deep hole in the center, and long black tentacle-like arms reach out toward Spike threatening to pull him in.) Look... hell knows you're ready, plump and ripe. Beginning to understand, aren't you? The soul that blesses you... (Spike has flashes of a vision of someone being tortured.)...damns you to suffer—forever. (holds Spike's head up toward the portal) You go now, William, so I can stay. Yes, squirm, boy. It won't make a difference. Getting what you deserve.
Spike: You're right. I do deserve to go to hell. But not today.
(Spike squirms free and knocks Pavayne off of him. Spike stands, and Pavayne is on the floor on his back looking at Spike.)
Pavayne: You dare!
Spike: (as he stands, the portal behind him closes) Quite a bit, mate. Reality bends to desire. That was it, right? That's why I could touch Fred, write your name in the glass. All I had to do was want it bad enough.
(Spike looks down at his naked body and clothing appears on him again. He glares at Pavayne.) And guess what I want to do now, you prissy son of a bitch!
(Office)
(Spike punches Pavayne through a wall, and they are now standing in an office instead of the basement.)
Spike: Keen little racket you've got carved out for yourself—prying off spirits and sucking them down the chute. Kept your own toasties out of the fire, didn't it? 'Til now. (He punches Pavayne, who fights back, but not too well. Spike beats him over and over again.) Not so much fun when we hit back, is it?
Pavayne: (punches back, stronger now) Starting to be.
(Science Lab)
(Fred and Wesley are working in the lab on an elaborate machine when Gunn and Angel walk in.)
Fred: (to Wes) Make sure it's calibrated to minus .058. (to Gunn) Did you get it?
Gunn: (hands Fred the flask containing about a liter of a dark liquid) Make it count. Told me we ain't getting anymore.
Angel: It talks? I didn't hear it talk.
Gunn: Maybe you weren't listening right.
Fred: (puts the flask in the machine) All right, I think we're almost ready.
Angel: How do we let Spike know?
Wesley: (standing at the controls of the machine) Won't have to.
Fred: (starting up the machine) This baby puts out enough juice to light up ghost city. Anything remotely spectral around here is about to get the tinglies.
(Pan out to show a ring on the floor, painted with symbols around the edge. The machine controls are hooked up to the ring.)
(Lobby)
(Spike and Pavayne have continued fighting, and Pavayne seems to have control now. Spike's just landed on the floor and Pavayne is standing over him, panting.)
Pavayne: Learned a few of my tricks. Means nothing, does it? (kicks Spike across the room) I've cheated hell for hundreds of years. Fed it other dirty little souls. Left me alone, let me get stronger. Now, this realm... I am God. And you... (picks up Spike by the collar) ...wood for the fire. (A energy burst goes through the lobby, and both Spike and Pavayne notice it. Spike takes this opportunity while Pavayne is distracted, punches Pavayne, and runs away.) This won't do. This won't do at all. (follows Spike)
(Science Lab)
(Angel, Gunn, Wesley, and Fred are in the lab waiting for the machine to do its magic.)
Fred: (reading her scanner, which beeps) He's here. (still unable to see Spike, she yells out to the room) Spike, step into the circle! Hurry! We've only got one chance at making you corporeal agai—
(Fred's sentence is cut off when she starts choking. She puts her hands to her throat. Pan over to show Pavayne is grasping her throat with his hand.)
Pavayne: Why ever would I want to do that?
Wesley: Fred!
Gunn: It's Pavayne!
Angel: He's killing her.
(Angel, Gunn, and Wesley charge toward Fred to try and help her, but Pavayne knocks them all across the room.)
Pavayne: (to Spike) Decisions. The girl... heh... or the flesh. There's no time for both. (Spike stares at the machine's ring which is ramping up, clearly almost ready to do it's magic, then he looks at Fred across the room.) There's hope for you yet, boy.
Spike: (disappears, and reappears beside Fred) Not really.
(Spike knocks Pavayne into the machine's ring just as it activates. Pavayne is now corporeal. Angel gets to his feet and walks up to the machine's ring, while Gunn and Wesley go to Fred's side.)
Pavayne: (stands, looks at his body, growls) No. No! Defilers! I'll...cut you into nothing! I'll feast on your brains. I'll swim in lakes of your own blood.
Angel: (punches Pavayne, knocking him down) You'll shut the hell up.
Spike: (reappears) Don't kill him. If he becomes a spirit again, we'll never stop him.
Angel: Fine. No killing. Just a whole lot of bruisin'. (punches Pavayne again)
(Day)
(Wesley and Gunn are helping Fred clean up her lab.)
Wesley: (to Fred) You sure you're all right?
Fred: Yeah, I...it's just, you know.
Gunn: Why don't you take a break? We'll finish up.
Fred: Thanks. (walks into her office)
(Fred’s Office)
(A very down-spirited Fred mopes over her burned notes, and sits on the edge of her desk. Spike appears in her office.)
Spike: Don't suppose you built a spare?
Fred: Most of the pieces I used on this one were practically nonexistent to start with. Even if I could replace them, the chances of finding another power source are... I'm sorry.
Spike: (sits beside Fred on the edge of her desk) Don't be, love. Made my choice. Wouldn't change it for the world.
Fred: There are other things we could try. They're a little riskier, but—
Spike: No. I'm not gonna end up like Pavayne—cheating hell any way he could, no matter who it hurt.
Fred: Just proves what I've been telling everybody.
Spike: That I'm a handsome devil who brightens the place up?
Fred: (smiles, looks at Spike) That you're worth saving.
Spike: Don't have it so bad, really. Plenty of room. Good company. Even picked up a few new tricks. (picks up her coffee mug, Fred laughs, Spike smiles) I guess there's worse things...than being a ghost.
(Basement)
(Pavayne is in a restraining cell only a few feet wide. He's standing in it, strapped in by metal bars, with electrodes attached to his head. Angel and Eve are standing in front of him, looking at him.)
Angel: Sure it'll hold him?
Eve: Permanent storage. If there's anything Wolfram & Hart excels at, it's keeping their unmentionables unmentioned.
Angel: (to Pavayne) Congratulations. You get to live forever, unable to move, to touch, or to feel... or to affect anything in the world around you. But don't worry—I had 'em give you a window. (shuts the door, revealing a brick-sized window cut out of the cell door right at eye-level) Welcome to hell. (walks off with Eve)
Season Five Guide