Time Bomb
(Suburban House – Day)
(As a fire roars in the furnace in the background, the demon dungeon master commences with his daily torture of Gunn. Gunn, strapped to a table with his shirt unbuttoned, struggles against his restraints as the demon selects a dagger from his collection of tools.)
Gunn: Listen, please... What did I do? (sees the demon wielding a dagger) No. No. Wait!
(Just as the demon rears back with the dagger, the house starts to shake and rumble around them, as if there were an earthquake. The demon stops to look up the stairs as someone blows the basement access door off of its hinges. It's Illyria. She walks down the stairs to face the demon, who charges her. She simply backhands him, powerfully sending him across the room. Illyria walks up to Gunn and rips the magic medallion from his neck, causing his memories to return. Gunn sits up with a start.)
Gunn: (holding his hands to his head, panting) Oh. Ah. Find it. Find... Gunn. Charles Gunn. (looks at Illyria) You're... Fred. You look... terrible. (Illyria grabs him by the collar, pulling him off the table into a standing position) Unh! Illyria.
Illyria: (tossing Gunn aside) Move.
Gunn: (stands behind her) Can't. Can't leave this dimension unless someone else puts on the necklace... takes my place.
(The dungeon master demon finally gets to his feet and charges at Illyria again. She looks at the necklace, then at the demon.)
(After Gunn and Illyria are out of the basement, the camera focuses on the necklace around the demon's neck. The demon is lying on the table in front of the fiery furnace where Gunn was before. The demon grunts as it picks up the dagger and thrusts it into its own heart.)
(Wolfram & Hart – Night)
(A downtrodden Wesley sits in Angel's office, explaining the situation.)
Wesley: (deadpan) I didn't send her. We were discussing Gunn. I explained his situation, our inability to get him out. She nodded, created a portal, and disappeared.
Angel: (irritated) So she's just, what, helping you out? She's your little helper.
Wesley: I would hardly call her—
Angel: Well, she sure was helpful beatin' me up. Wes, do you have any idea why she's doing all this for you?
Wesley: Does it matter? She may be able to get him out.
Angel: Or she might get him killed. It doesn't track, Wes. Why would she take on any risk for us?
Wesley: I doubt this poses a risk to her. She has the power of a god.
Angel: She has the ego of a god.
Wesley: She was ruler of the world, after all. This sort of thing goes to one's head.
Angel: Apparently.
Wesley: I am making progress. There is distance, of course. She would never accept any of us as peers. But... I afford her some amusement at the very least. It may be why she's still here.
Angel: She's still here because this place reeks of influence. She had everything, Wes. Everything. You think she's not lookin' to get that back?
Wesley: I wouldn't presume to know what she wants. But I understand the resource, the power she represents. If we could just find some way to integrate her, to convince her to—
Angel: To do what? Join the team? (A portal appears in Angel's office, and Illyria brings Gunn through it, pushing him to the floor at her feet.) Gunn.
Wesley: (stands to face them, backs up to stand closer to Angel) Illyria.
Illyria: (grabs Gunn by the throat and lifts him into the air; Gunn gags) This thing...
Angel: (approaches Illyria confrontationally) Let him go.
Illyria: It's important to you.
Wesley: (softly) Illyria, stop.
Illyria: It holds value—worth beyond price.
Angel: (angrily) I said, let him—
Wesley: (touches Angel's arm, steps forward) Yes, great worth. A great debt. You're talking of the debt, aren't you... of what we owe you?
(Illyria drops Gunn to the ground.)
Illyria: Of what you owe me. (walks out of the office)
Angel: (watches Illyria leave, then smirks to Wesley) Go team.
(Lobby – Day)
(Gunn walks off the elevator, wearing a hooded zip-up sweatshirt, and looks around tentatively. He sighs and walks toward his office.)
(Gunn’s Office)
(When he opens the door and looks inside, he sees an enormous stack of files on his desk, presumably those that have accumulated in his absence.)
(Wesley’s Office)
(Wesley's office is similarly buried in paperwork, but instead of a neat stack of files, it's a chaotic array of books. Wesley looks exhausted, unshaven, and generally unkempt.)
Wesley: (holding a large book and speaking to it) All pre-Christian works dealing with the demon age. Same for primordium, index any mention of the old ones.
(Gunn walks in while Wesley opens the book he was talking to as it magically fills itself with the specified content.)
Gunn: Hey.
Wesley: (looks up from his book, frozen in a hunched-over posture) Gunn. (rushes over to shut the door behind him) First day back?
(Gunn looks around at the books that cover the desk and floor.)
Gunn: Yeah.
(Wesley grabs another book from a cabinet, rushes back to his desk before pausing to address Gunn.)
Wesley: I stabbed you. I should apologize for that. But I'm honestly not sure how. (looks down) I think it'll just be awkward.
Gunn: Good call.
Wesley: OK. (rushes back to his desk with his new book)
Gunn: I ain't lookin' for a sorry. Don't know if I'd accept it. Besides, I just got my heart cut out of my chest every day for 2 weeks straight. Compared to what—a little jab in the gut? Kinda over it.
Wesley: (sitting at his desk now) So, what are you looking for?
Gunn: (sighs) I don't know. A compass, maybe. The thing that killed my friend just saved my life. No one knows why. (shakes his head, sits in a chair) This place just went Poseidon on my ass. I don't know which way is up.
Wesley: Everything is... (stands, walks out from behind his desk, gestures to the books all over the place) a bit odd. (kneels over the books at his feet) I suppose... (grabs a book) we have to adjust. (stands, still hunched over a bit, acting strange, wild) I imagine that's what all this is—adjustment. (scurries back to his desk)
Gunn: Adjustment?
Wesley: (gestures widely) To...things. To...myself. To this place. (kneels, looking at the books on the floor, talks slower, softer) To...Illyria.
Gunn: She definitely takes adjusting to.
Wesley: You can't... look at her without seeing... (pauses, stifles tears by swallowing his emotions) her body's previous owner. (sardonic chuckle)(Gunn looks down) But then, what comes out of her mouth, pure unadulterated vertigo. We look so tiny to her.
Gunn: But you got her on a leash or something, right?
Wesley: No. (laughs bitterly) No. (picks up a scroll, unrolling it to read it) She's monumentally self-possessed. (puts down the scroll, looks at his wristwatch, then listens to it) She still thinks she's the god-king of the universe.
Gunn: So she's like a TV star.
Wesley: No, nothing that bad. Bit more violent, though. (nods)
(Training Room)
(Illyria punches Spike in the chest, sending him across the room. Spike slides across the floor on his feet, but doesn't fall this time.)
Spike: Ooh! All right, grandma. Give ya that. Good one.
(Spike charges Illyria, who kicks and punches him, but misses. Spike catches her fist in his hand and punches her quickly in the face. She steps back, circles him slowly, watching him constantly.)
Illyria: This shell... you had affection for it, for Fred.
Spike: Tons. Loved the bird.
Illyria: Yet you strike at her form without sentiment.
Spike: You ain't her. I can see it. Lord knows I can smell it. And I got no problem hitting it.
(He swings at Illyria, who catches his punch and knees him between the legs.)
Illyria: (she clutches her stomach after Spike hits her there) You're adapting.
Spike: (grinning) We do that.
Illyria: Adaptation is compromise. (swings a low kick at Spike's ankles)
Spike: (jumps to avoid her kick) It's called learning. But then I guess you know everything there is to know.
Illyria: When the world met me, it shuddered, groaned. It knelt at my feet.
Spike: (looks up, mocking) "Dear Penthouse, I don't normally write letters like this, but—" (Illyria punches him in the face, knocking him back a few steps) Oh, ho ho!
Illyria: Illyria was all they needed to know.
Spike: (rubbing his jaw) Then came the Internet.
Illyria: (circling Spike again) You have nothing. Your kind has pulled this domain apart. Each of you has snatched a tiny piece of it. Even those with the mightiest hoards are paupers.
Spike: The one who dies with the most toys wins, eh?
Illyria: To never die... and to conquer all, that is winning.
(Spike starts charging at Illyria again, but with a wave of her hand she slows time. Spike is soaring through the air toward her at a snail's pace as she walks normally past him. When he reaches the floor, he's back to normal time. He looks around, confused at not seeing Illyria. He turns to see her standing behind him.)
Spike: Now that's cheating.
(Illyria kicks Spike hard in the stomach, sending him across the room. He hits the wall where the observation window is and falls to the floor in a heap.)
Angel: (over intercom) Spike, talk to you for a minute.
Illyria: (looks down at him) You may go.
Spike: (scoffs) Huh! (wipes blood from his lip) Yeah, great. (gets to his feet) Thanks so much.
(Observation Room)
(Adjacent to the training room is an observation area with a window into the training room. Illyria stands in the training room, facing the observation window while Angel and Spike watch her through it.)
Spike: That time-stop thing is a royal bitch, but I'm starting to suss out her million-year-old moves. Cheeky mix. Little tae kwon do, little Brazilian Ninjitsu, ancestrally speaking.
Angel: You have to stop these sessions.
Spike: Now hang on. Just now getting into it. Testing her has sharpened technique I didn't even know was rusty.
Angel: We're not testing her, Spike. She's testing us.
(Illyria steps out of the training room into the observation area. She doubles over in pain, clutching her stomach and panting.)
Spike: Got her winded at least, didn't I? (to Illyria) That's right, little Shiva. Reckon you'll think twice next time.
(Gunn’s Office)
(Gunn sits at his desk facing two 2-feet tall stacks of files. He sighs and grabs the top one to read it when there's a knock on the door. Lorne sticks his head in the office, wearing a fedora and sunglasses.)
Lorne: Hey-hey. Shoulder to the wheel, already, huh?
(Gunn closes the file and places it on the top of the second stack.)
Gunn: Gotta start sometime. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.
Lorne: (walks in tentatively) So are you good? You look good, considering. I just thought I'd drop in and see if you're good... which you are. Ahem...good.
Gunn: What's, uh, with the incognito?
Lorne: About to go on assignment. Angel wants me to start tailing Illyria, keep tabs on her. (holds up a two-way radio) Got a little walkie-talkie and everything.
Gunn: Guess Illyria's still the headline around here.
Lorne: (takes off his glasses) Front-page news. And a walking obituary. Strange times, huh?
Gunn: Strange times. (stands walks out from behind his desk) Have you talked to Wes?
Lorne: Well, we've exchanged words. I wouldn't exactly call it talking. He's still reeling since Our Lady of the Blue Bummer arrived.
Gunn: Yeah, I was just in his office, and—
Lorne: Oh, God, don't go in there! That's where he keeps his full-strength crazy.
Gunn: (chuckles) Yeah. Caught a whiff of that.
Lorne: It's like he's 2 different people. One is almost catatonic, the guy you see doing the impatient shuffle around the hallways, and the other is just cooped up in there all day, jittering like a bug on a hotplate, obsessing over every single tidbit he can find on Illyria.
Gunn: What's Angel say about it?
Lorne: Ah, he's not very talky these days, either. (jumps when his walkie-talkie beeps)
Angel: (over the walkie-talkie) Lorne? This is Angel. Can you hear me?
Lorne: (into the walkie-talkie) Uh, 10-4, good buddy.
Angel: (over the walkie-talkie) Lorne, we're gonna meet in my office. Now.
Lorne: (into the walkie-talkie) Uh, copy that.
(Angel’s Conference Room)
(Angel sits at the head of the conference table. Wesley is sitting to his left, and Lorne beside him. Gunn is at his right and Spike's pacing behind him near the window.)
Spike: OK, the upshot is you don't like babe the blue ox in your house, and you want to get rid of her.
Angel: Yeah.
Spike: So... are we talking pasture... or slaughterhouse?
Angel: She didn't have a problem killing Fred, did she?
Wesley: Illyria infected Fred, with no more malice than a viral phage.
Angel: Hey, look, Wes, I know you're bonding with her, but—
Wesley: But she's unpredictable, dangerous, too powerful a being, too close to being an enemy. Yes, Angel. It's self-evident.
Angel: Which means we have to find some kind of weakness, some point of vulnerability—
Wesley: You want me to find a way to kill her.
Angel: (leans in toward Wesley) You got a problem with that?
Wesley: (looks Angel in the eye, speaks softly) No.
Angel: Good. (sits back in the chair) Because we got more than enough problems to worry about.
Gunn: Yeah, for example, what about the Apocalypse? Still trying to get my head around that one. Lindsey said we're in the middle of it?
Wesley: Oh, yes. The thousand-year war of good versus evil is well under way.
Angel: Evil just hasn't told anyone about it yet, which is probably why they're winning.
Spike: Oh, and by the way, we're apparently on the wrong side. Or the right side, if you like winning.
Gunn: Sounds like you guys are buying it.
Angel: Next time you go out there, take a good look around. 'Cause it's true, Gunn.
Gunn: Works for me. So what's that mean for us?
Angel: Tell us how we fight an invisible war. I don't even know who we're fighting. (stands) All the evil we've stopped so far, and we're still the partners' number-one earner.
Hamilton: (walks into the conference room unannounced) Not anymore. Let me ask you something, Angel. (walks to stand at the opposite end of the table, across from Angel) Have you ever heard the term "surgical strike"?
Angel: Ever heard the term "appointment"? (walks back to his chair, sits)
Hamilton: Illyria destroyed 11 torture units before she found your man. 2 troop carriers, an ice cream truck, and 8 beautifully maintained lawns. Not to mention dozens of employees rendered useless to the company.
Angel: Bill me.
Hamilton: Oh, we will. The damages are coming directly out of this division's profits. Congratulations. In one swift stroke, you've gone from leader of the pack to staggering at the rear.
Angel: And...
Hamilton: Angel... you're a motivated go-getter at the top of the corporate ladder. Why don't you figure out what comes after "and..."?
Angel: We're workin' on that.
Hamilton: Yes, I'm sure you are. In the meantime, the partners have a small task they'd like you to oversee. I'm sending Gunn the file. (to Gunn) It's good to see you again, by the way. (to Angel) It's a simple matter, but with some very big players.
Angel: If this is our chance to get into a better grace with the head office, I have to say it's not my priority.
Hamilton: (edges toward the door) Oh, no, don't think about us, Angel. Think about profits. It's profits that let you keep this plucky little boatload of good above water. (walks mostly out the door, sticks his head in for one last comment) It's a business, boys, not a bat cave. (exits)
Lorne: Well, I'll tell you what—still like him better than Eve.
(Wesley’s Office)
(Wesley is sitting on the floor, leaning back against his desk. His office, desk, and floor are still covered in books and scrolls. He's just staring straight ahead when Illyria walks in.)
Illyria: This day. What name is it given in your cycle of days?
Wesley: I give it... Monday.
Illyria: (kneels, looks him in the eye) And this conversation. We've had it before.
Wesley: Well, yes, we've... discussed our system of temporal measurement and our technology, weights and measures, local customs, world history...
Illyria: You are my guide.
Wesley: Apparently.
Illyria: You're more than that.
Wesley: Really?
Illyria: (stands) You are my betrayer. When you shattered the Window of Orlon, you meant to change the past, to rewrite your history and the history of this body.
Wesley: And instead I brought back more painful memories. (stands)
Illyria: It was a failure.
Wesley: I've come to understand how irreversible the works of time are.
Illyria: But you intended to alter them.
Wesley: I wanted to bring back Fred.
Illyria: And destroy me!
Wesley: As an unavoidable consequence. (softly) Does it sting you... my betrayal?
Illyria: Betrayal was a neutral word in my day, as unjudged a word as water or breeze. No. (looks away) Or perhaps... I am only bothered because I am bothered.
Wesley: (sits at his desk) That sounds very close to human.
Illyria: Motes of dust. Mayflies who die so soon after they're born they might as well not live at all.
Wesley: (points, gently reprimanding) Now, now. Manners.
(Angel’s Office)
(Gunn walks into Angel's office holding an open file.)
Gunn: Just got the file from Hamilton. Skimming it now. Looks like some sort of ceremonial demon pact. You have to sign as witness for the firm.
Angel: You've met Hamilton.
Gunn: Sorry?
Angel: The new liaison. You met him before today?
Gunn: Yeah. Came down to my basement for a visit while I was getting carved. Offered to get me out.
Angel: And what'd you say?
Gunn: Do you really have to ask me that?
Angel: I really do.
Gunn: (closes the file) I turned him down. Not into making deals. Not anymore.
Angel: (sighs, sits back, crosses his arms) Well, that's gonna make it tough to be a lawyer.
Gunn: It was tough already. Making business go smoothly for a bunch of hideous, scaly, evil clients.
(A very pregnant blonde woman steps into Angel's office.)
Woman: Excuse me... I'm here about the demon pact.
(Conference Room)
(Angel and Gunn sit at the conference table with the woman. She looks like she'll give birth soon.)
Woman: They found me. They said that they had these seer people who told them my baby was some kind of holy one. They said it was a prophecy.
Gunn: How much do you know about the Fell Brethren?
Woman: Well, they're really religious. I mean, their religion, not the God one. But they've been really supportive. They're always bringing me special shakes and vitamins.
Angel: You realize they're demons.
Woman: Uh-huh. They're very open about it.
Gunn: Well, any demonic pact should be entered into with caution. They can be riddled with obscure clauses and doubletalk. As our client, we have to advise you—
Demon: (in a deep male voice) She's not your client. We are.
(Three demons are standing at the door to the conference room, dressed in long black hooded robes. The demons have round, bald heads and uneven gray-green skin.)
(Wesley’s Office)
(Wesley picks up a book from the floor and brings it to his desk. Illyria paces in the background.)
Illyria: Odd. (Wesley writes at his desk) It doesn't exist until it cracks apart.
(She paces with her hand out in front of her like she's trying to touch something.)
Wesley: What's that?
Illyria: Time.
Wesley: You don't look altogether well.
Illyria: (drops her hand, stands tall) Your opinion of me weighs less than sunlight.
(Illyria suddenly doubles over in pain, knocking over a glass of water from the edge of Wesley's desk onto the floor.)
(Training Room)
(When Illyria stands up again, she finds herself in the training room. Wesley is holding some sort of weapon.)
Wesley: Illyria!
Angel: Wes, do it now.
(Wesley aims the weapon at Illyria. She doubles over in pain again.)
(Observation Room)
(When Illyria stands up again, she finds herself in the observation area adjacent to the training room with Angel and Spike.)
Spike: (to Angel) Got her winded at least, didn't I? (to Illyria) That's right, little Shiva. Reckon you'll think twice next time. Good knee to the ribs does tend to catch up on you, doesn't it? (grins)
(Illyria gasps as she doubles over in pain.)
(Wesley’s Office)
(When Illyria stands up again, she finds herself in Wesley's office, having just knocked over the glass of water from the edge of his desk onto the floor.)
Wesley: (watching her intently) Illyria?
Illyria: (stands, walks to the front of his desk) You tried to murder me. (kicks the desk hard, sending it toward the window, where it pins Wesley) Again!
Wesley: (shocked) What? I haven't... (calmer) I don't want you dead, believe me. (panting)
Illyria: I was there. I saw it. (walks out)
(Lobby)
(Illyria walks into the lobby past Lorne, who was hiding behind a plant. Lorne watches her go and speaks into his walkie-talkie.)
Lorne: Bluebird is in flight. (follows Illyria)
Harmony: (speaking to the three demons) OK. Angel just needs another few minutes. Can I go ahead and grab you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Got blood.
Demon: What's he doing in there with the Holy Vessel?
Harmony: And a variety of organic colas.
Demon: The Brethren have a delicate relationship with the Vessel. If she's presenting any problems, we should be the ones to—
Harmony: Believe me, Angel will take care of everything. That's what he does. Yep. I'm sure he's in there, you know, getting into her head, sowing the seeds of fear. Don't you worry. He will snap her like a pregnant twig.
(The demon turns to his brethren and they murmur in a demon language before turning back to Harmony.)
Demon: We'll try an organic cola. (Harmony nods and walks away) Thank you.
(He turns back to his brethren and they continue murmuring in a demon language.)
(Conference Room)
(Gunn is sitting at the conference table, leaning forward, looking over the contract and looking at the woman. Angel stands behind him holding the file.)
Angel: You're sure you want to do this?
Gunn: Yeah, because it's not too late, Amanda. This contract has some wiggle room somewhere in there. They always do.
Woman /Amanda: But aren't you the guys that are supposed to tell me to do it?
Angel: (sitting at the table now) Oh, we are. And, well, we're not. We, uh—
Lorne: (the walkie-talkie lets out a "beep beep") Angel Ears, this is Secret Demon. Come in.
(Angel puts his hands over the walkie-talkie.)
Amanda: Listen, I've had this talk before, believe me. I know it sounds bad giving up your unborn baby to a supernatural cult, but...
(The walkie-talkie beeps again and Angel puts his hands over it, muffling the speech.)
Angel: Sorry. (the walkie-talkie chirps as Angel turns it off and puts it in his coat pocket) Go on.
Amanda: See... their entire nation believes my child is their next, you know, like the Dali Lama. They're gonna worship him. He'll be cared for better than we could ever. And he'll be someone, somebody important. We'd never be able to give him that.
Gunn: Amanda, the Fell Brethren leader makes Jim Jones look like a Sunday school teacher.
Amanda: Who's Jim Jones?
Angel: It doesn't matter.
Amanda: Mr. Gunn, we can't afford this baby. My husband, he was hurt at work. Brain-damaged, doctors say. Incurable. We're scraping by on food stamps and disability. But the Brethren... they say they can make him whole again. Make him... (starts to cry) remember who I am. I mean, how does a person turn all that down?
(Gunn closes the file and walks out of the conference room. Angel watches him go.)
Angel: (to Amanda) Excuse us. (follows Gunn out of the room)
(Angel’s Office)
(Gunn walks to the window and sighs. Angel closes the doors that partition the conference room from his office.)
Gunn: I'm not feelin' so good.
Angel: First day back from a vacation in hell, you know, I'm not surprised.
Gunn: Do you know what the worst part of that place was? Wasn't the basement. At least there, you knew where you stood. Demon was gonna cut your heart out and show it to you. Nah. It was the fake life they gave you upstairs. The wife, kids, all the icing on the family cake. But somewhere underneath it, there was the nagging certainty that it was all lies, that all the smiles and the birthday candles and the homework were just there to hide the horror. (turns to face Angel) Is that all we're doing here—just hiding the horror?
Angel: No.
Gunn: (upset) 'Cause I don't think I can stomach it anymore, not after all that's happened.
Angel: You have to. Listen to me, Gunn. I need you to get through this, to get through all of it so we can figure out the big picture and plot our next move.
Gunn: Angel... she is our next move.
Harmony: Um...the Brethren have finished their colas, Angel, and the sugar high isn't making them any less—
Angel: Send them in, Harmony.
(Science Lab)
(Wesley's working at a desk in the laboratory. The desk is covered in papers. Wes is looking into a microscope when Hamilton walks in.)
Hamilton: (looks over his shoulder) Curing cancer, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?
Wesley: (without looking up from the microscope) Wouldn't be cost-effective. I'm sure we make a lot from cancer.
Hamilton: Heh, yes. The patent holder is a client. So... (deep breath) How's the science game? Oh, I realize you're just filling in, but, uh...
Wesley: (looks up from the microscope) Do you have a specific need, Mr. Hamilton?
Hamilton: I'm just wondering if anything turned up on Illyria. We have our concerns about her, too, you know.
Wesley: Common ground. Mystifying.
(He looks back into the microscope.)
Hamilton: She's a walking nightmare, isn't she?
Wesley: (looks up from the microscope to write something down) Well put.
Hamilton: And yet you seem to be the closest thing she has to a friend.
Wesley: (laughs bitterly) If you knew her, you'd realize the absurdity of that statement.
Hamilton: Well, the partners know her, Wesley. (Wesley looks up) Yes. They go way back. Heh. They don't want her here. They don't want her anywhere...at all. But they consider this to be your problem, so... (shrugs) have a nice fight. (chuckles, starts to leave, but turns back) Oh, you might wanna try taking a look at the low-emanation scanner readouts. Just a thought. (walks out)
(Wesley opens a laptop and pulls up a screen that shows a distinct blue glow on a map of the building. The glowing dot moves down the hallway.)
(Hallway)
(Illyria is walking down the hallway. Lorne is behind her talking agitatedly on the walkie-talkie.)
Lorne: I repeat, bluebird got wise. Secret Demon's cover is blown. Over. Hel-hello?! Is this on? (puts the walkie-talkie away) Hey, Leery, now, when did you catch on to me? In the elevator? That was a tough one.
Illyria: The vampire plays children's games.
Lorne: Oh, tag, you're it, honey.
(Conference Room)
(The three demons walk into the conference room with Angel, Gunn and Amanda.)
Demon: (in a deep voice) Amanda. (holds his arms wide, Amanda stands, turns to him and smiles) Ya look wonderful, huh? Huh?! So full of life. So how's our little oven-bun? Still kicking up a storm, I hope. Third trimester. (the other demons gesture thumbs-up) Any more pressure, shortness of breath? (Amanda nods) Well, that's normal. Are you taking the black cohosh we sent?
Amanda: (nods) Mm-hmm.
Demon: Lovely. Bipmep cut some articles out of this month's "Fit Pregnancy". We'll send those along.
Angel: We can get under way.
(They all sit at the table.)
Demon: Ah! Good, good. (starts signing papers) And...there...and done. (hands the papers to Amanda) There you are, Amanda.
Gunn: (reading through the contract) Wait a minute. Gordabach?
Demon: (looks up, irritated, tries to pass it off as unimportant) Yes. Gordabach. (to Amanda) Just sign right there, mom.
Gunn: No, hang on. I just wanna get this clause straight. "The child will be pampered, worshipped, and fed a holy diet of berries, panda meat, and urine."
Demon: (to Amanda) Well, it's consecrated urine.
Gunn: "And on the eve of his 13th year, he will be prepared for the rites of Gordabach."
Amanda: That's what, like a bar mitzvah?
Demon: Well, there'll be gifts.
Gunn: Amanda... it's a ritual sacri—
Demon: (yelling, pounding the table) Whose lawyer are you?!
(Illyria bursts into the conference room, making the door slam open.)
Illyria: (to Angel) You will speak to me.
Angel: In the middle of something.
Illyria: Then I will end it.
Angel: (stands) Yeah, OK.
Demon: (stands) Who's this?
Angel: (to Illyria) Come with me.
(Hallway)
(Angel leads Illyria out of the conference room. Lorne is standing just outside the door talking to his walkie-talkie.)
Lorne: Well, do ya copy ever?! Over! (sees Angel walk by) Hey, hey, is your thingy on? (sees Illyria following Angel) Oh, I'll just wait here then. (shrugs irritated)
(Angel leads Illyria to a private spot in the hallway where they aren't likely to be overheard.)
Angel: (turns, points at her angrily) You don't interrupt our work! Understand me?
Illyria: What is it, poison? Magicks? It impresses me, the power of it. Whatever you've done, it can't save you. To do anything but bow to my will is absurd, yet you conspire— (groans as she doubles over in pain, clutching her stomach)
Angel: We haven't done anything to you.
Illyria: Jealous. Plankton envying the ocean that holds them.
Angel: Yeah, that's great. Listen, I got things— (starts to walk off)
Illyria: (grabs Angel by the lapels, lifting him into the air) Ridiculous apes. My death won't prevent your dying. What have you done to me?!
Angel: Get your damn hands off me.
Illyria: (lets him go) You do not know. Not yet. (turns away) It's too early. (walks down the hallway)
Lorne: (walks up behind Angel he's watching Illyria leave, whispers) Psst. Ya gotta keep your thingy on for this to work, OK? (Angel pulls Lorne's hat off and shoves it at him.) Oh, that's mature!
Harmony: (walks up to them) Boss, it's getting a little shouty in your office.
Angel: Let Gunn take care of it.
(Harmony sighs.)
(Science Lab)
(Angel walks into the science laboratory where Wesley and Spike are working on something.)
Angel: (ranting) Illyria's blown all of her gaskets, man. She's outta her mind.
Spike: How can you tell? Yesterday she spent 2 hours mind-melding with a potted fern.
Angel: She thinks I'm trying to kill her.
Wesley: Aren't you?
Angel: Tell me you have something, Wes. Just anything.
Wesley: (unlatching a large box) She is unstable. (Spike presses buttons on the laptop, Wes goes to him) Overloading, to be more accurate. The fusion between her demon essence and her host's body seems to be deteriorating. It's as if the human part of her can no longer contain the demonic power within. (looks at something through a magnifying lens)
Spike: Hmm. We're thinking that she cracked her engine block and now she's leakin' petrol all over the building.
Wesley: She's going to self-destruct, violently, and soon.
Angel: And you were gonna tell me this when?
Wesley: I wasn't. Spike and I were dealing with it.
Spike: We're motivated go-getters.
Wesley: The good news is the crack in her engine block may give us a chance to get to her. (takes a large metallic weapon out of the box on the table) This is a Mutari generator. It creates a pinhole to an infinite extra-dimensional space, a negatively charged pocket universe, that should draw her radiant essence, her power, into itself, by process of a—
Angel: Wes. Will it kill her?
Wesley: Yes. (to Spike) Shall we go?
Angel: We have to find out where she—
Spike: (grabs the laptop, shows the display to Angel) Oh, here. (the display shows a blue dot moving through a map of the building) Training room, looks like. And gushin' petrol like a geyser.
(Hallway)
(Wesley leads Angel and Spike down the hallway holding the weapon over his arm.)
Spike: So what sort of damage are we lookin' at if Illyria Chernobyls on us?
Wesley: Conservative guess, several city blocks.
Angel: And what about unconservative?
Wesley: Rand and McNally will have to redraw their maps. (walks into the training room)
Angel: (to Lorne, who's standing outside the training room) Is she in there?
Lorne: (scoffs, holding up the walkie-talkie) Do you even know how to use this thing? (follows them inside)
(Training Room)
(Wesley goes into the training room, followed by Angel and Spike, then Lorne. There doesn't appear to be anyone but them in the room.)
Lorne: (looking around) That's funny. I didn't even see her leave.
Spike: (shrugs) Well, that's the problem. You don't always see her when she's— (explodes into ash) Gaah!
(Illyria appeared behind Spike, staking him. She bends over, clutching her stomach.)
Wesley: Illyria!
Angel: Wes, do it now. (charges Illyria)
(Illyria kicks Angel in the face, sending him across the room. She grabs a dagger off the wall and hurls it at Wesley, piercing him in the chest; he falls to the ground. She sends her fist through Lorne's chest. Angel vamps out and jumps through the air, lunging at Illyria, but not before she grabs a battle-axe from the wall. She swings it at him, slicing off his head. He turns to ash. Illyria stands in the center of the room, holding the battle-axe, surveying her handiwork, and smiling. Illyria looks around the room at the bodies of Lorne and Wesley and the piles of ash that used to be Spike and Angel. She clutches her stomach, doubling over in pain.)
(Hallway)
(When Illyria looks up, she finds herself in the hallway talking to Angel.)
Angel: We haven't done anything to you.
Illyria: Jealous. Plankton envying the ocean that holds them.
Angel: Yeah, that's great. Listen, I got things— (starts to walk off)
Illyria: (grabs Angel by the lapels, lifting him into the air) Ridiculous apes. My death won't prevent your dying. What have you done to me?!
Angel: Get your damn hands off me.
(Illyria doubles over in pain, clutching her stomach.)
(Wesley’s Office)
(When Illyria recovers, she finds herself in Wesley's office having just knocked a glass of water off of his desk. Angel is there with her.)
Wesley: Are you all right?
Angel: No, I'm not all right. (to Illyria) What the hell did you do to me?
Wesley: (surprised) Angel.
Illyria: (to Angel) You weren't here before.
Wesley: (stands, shocked) Who—where did—what just happened?
Illyria: An aberration in the time line. It wasn't like this— (doubles over, clutching her stomach, screaming in agony) Aaaaah!
(Suburban House – Basement)
(Illyria recovers to find herself in the basement of the suburban house where Gunn was imprisoned. Angel is there this time.)
Angel: (freaking out, looking around) Damn it! What the hell was this?
Illyria: You followed me.
Angel: (sees Gunn lying on the table, still wearing the necklace) Gunn?
Illyria: You've been swept up in my wake.
Angel: This is the holding dimension.
Illyria: How did you worms accomplish this?
Angel: We didn't. We—accomplish what?
Illyria: You ripped me out of linear progression, tore my time line into shreds, and stitched it back together out of sequence.
Angel: (angrily) Are you kidding?!
Illyria: You caged me in this fractured time frame, in moments that repeat themselves over and over without deviation. (to herself) But I don't say these words. I rip the necklace off. I lift him from the table. We speak. And the demon attacks again. (punches the demon) Is it of your sciences? How do you unweave time in this way?
Angel: This isn't us. We don't have the power to do—
Illyria: (punches Angel, sending him flying across the room) Do you know what you were when I was young? You were the muck at our feet. We called you "the ooze that eats itself". You were pretty at night. You sparkled, and you stank. You still stink of it!
Angel: (on his feet again) Will you just shut up for once?!
Illyria: What?
Angel: My God, the speechifying. Has it ever occurred to you that now might not be the best time for when-we-were-muck stories?
Illyria: You dare to speak to me in this—
Angel: (yelling) Yes, I dare. And, yes, we are looking for a way of controlling you any way that we can. I can't have an "x" factor like you bouncing around unchecked.
Illyria: "Bouncing around"?!
Angel: Yes, and I know you would do the same thing. I know that for a fact. But this is my kingdom, lady, not yours!
Illyria: Your kingdom! I am Illyria, god-king of the primordium, shaper of things!
Angel: Yeah, well, that was then—
(Illyria doubles over in pain, screaming.)
(Training Room)
(When she recovers, Illyria finds herself in the training room. Angel is there with her, but so are the bodies of Lorne and Wesley.)
Angel: This is... (looks around the room, speaks softer) Now.
Illyria: (holding the battle-axe) Yes. Nothing's what it used to be, is it?
Angel: No... (seeing the bodies of his friends)
Illyria: (circling the bodies) These are the fruits of your attempt to murder me. Your kingdom turned to ash and stale wind. (sticks her battle-axe into the floor, looks at Angel, cocking her head defiantly) I slew the white-haired one first.
Angel: This can't be.
Illyria: (picks up the axe again) And then Wesley, as he raised his weapon... and your demon clown as he wilted in terror.
Angel: And I'm next.
Illyria: No, vampire. (throws her axe into a pile of dust that used to be Angel) You were last.
Angel: Why?
Illyria: You know nothing of this. You're from an earlier point in the time line. You are a paradox. You're impossible.
Angel: We attacked you.
Illyria: I didn't give you the chance. That you learn when you become a king. (doubles over, holding her head) Unh! (gasping, pacing, circling Angel) You learn to destroy everything that's not utterly yours. All that matters is victory. That's how your reign persists. You're a slave to an insane construct. You are moral. A true ruler is as moral as a hurricane, empty but for the force of his gale. (groans, doubles over, holding her head)(gasping, pacing, circling Angel) But you... trapped in the web of the Wolf, the Ram, the Hart. So much power here, and you quibble at its price. (looking Angel in the eyes) If you want to win a war, you must serve no master but your ambition. (doubles over, holding her head) Aaaah! (gasping, stepping back)
Aaaaah! Oh, you have not lied. My undoing is beyond you, your people. Something is broken inside me. (grasps at her head, staggering) Aaah! My power is too great! I know this now, as I know it every time I come to this moment.
Angel: Illyria, if I'm here, if I am paradox, then this can all change, can't it? You said things had been altered, what you said, what you did. You can change this outcome!
Illyria: Change is constant. Yet things remain the same.
(A glowing blue fracture appears in Illyria's cheek. Her body starts cracking apart, shooting out blue light everywhere. She explodes, sending Angel back in the force of the explosion.)
(Hallway)
(When Angel recovers, he finds himself doubled-ever in pain, groaning in the hallway while Wesley and Spike walk with the weapon toward Illyria in the training room.)
Spike: So what sort of damage are we lookin' at if Illyria Chernobyls on us?
Wesley: Conservative guess, several city blocks. (turns to see what Angel's groaning about)
Angel: (stands up straight, surprised) Wes, you're alive. Illyria, she's self-destructing. She's a time bomb.
Spike: Read today's paper, did ya? (turns to continue walking)
Angel: What?
Spike: We've been yapping about bloody nothing but that for the last 10 minutes.
Angel: No, no, no. I just left a meeting with Illyria. She grabbed me, and we phased through time. I don't think she actually meant to do it. She's overloading. She's gonna explode.
Wesley: Yes, we know. Angel, we've been over all this.
Lorne: (scoffs, holding up the walkie-talkie) Do you even know how to use this thing? (follows them inside)
(Training Room)
(Wesley goes into the training room, followed by Angel and Spike, then Lorne. There doesn't appear to be anyone but them in the room.)
Angel: (ranting, agitated) She's come unstuck in time, Wes. She knows what happens. She's seen it. She knows we want to kill her.
Wesley: Yeah, she said that to me as well.
(Angel looks around the room, realizing that the 4 whom Illyria will kill are all here together now.)
Angel: Oh, guys... this isn't good.
Lorne: (looking around) Well, that's funny. I didn't even see her leave.
Spike: (shrugs) Well, that's the problem.
Angel: (to himself, recalling Illyria's words) "Slew the white-haired one first."
Spike: Don't always see her when she's—
(Angel rushes Spike to move him out of the way just as Illyria appears. She ends up staking Angel instead, but he doesn't explode into ash.)
Angel: (wincing from the pain of being stabbed) Aah! (staggers back) Wait—wait... (pulling the stake out of his side) Aah! Illyria, wait. Please. Wes, put that thing down. Spike, nobody move.
Illyria: This, too... all changing. (winces as she suffers another attack of pain; clutches her head) Unh!
Angel: I know what happens. I know you kill us all.
Spike: Oh, a bit pessimistic, aren't you?
Angel: And then you shudder, and you convulse with pain, and then the power inside you explodes.
Illyria: You are the Angel from the past. You were swept up in my wake.
Angel: You're not a king anymore. Your domain is gone, swallowed by time.
Illyria: And we've had this conversation.
Angel: You explode. I was there. It was powerful enough to blow me back through time. I have no idea what it does to the building.
Wesley: More like the continental shelf, actually.
Angel: I have to stop that. Do you understand? I cannot have your death blow away my—
Illyria: Your kingdom?!
Angel: Yeah, sure, whatever.
Illyria: You ask me to allow you to murder me.
Spike: It's not murder if you say yes.
Wesley: No one is murdering you. This device won't kill you.
Angel: What? You said—
Wesley: I lied. Illyria, this device will draw the energy away from you safely. It will allow you to live.
Illyria: Your intent is not murder.
Wesley: It never was.
Lorne: Well, no harm, no foul.
Illyria: But you tried to destroy me to bring back Fred.
Wesley: That didn't work. It was a failure. But now I know you're all that's left.
Illyria: You want to take my power... to let me live. But I am my power. And I would rather be a titanic crater than to be like unto you. (kicks Wesley in the stomach, sending him flying across the room)(Spike kicks her in the face) I kill you. That's how this ends.
(She charges at Spike, but he grabs her and flings her away from him into a wall.)
Spike: What?! Gettin' ahead of ourselves a bit.
(Spike charges at Illyria, but with a wave of her hand, she slows time in the room. She stands to walk out, but the pain in her stomach happens again, causing her to double over in pain, losing her focus and restoring the speed of time in the room. Spike lands against the wall, but gets to his feet.)
Angel: (gets to his feet) Illyria, the future can change here. You can choose a different path.
Illyria: And be nothing.
Angel: And be what you are. (Illyria groans) Fighting to hold on to what you were... it's destroying you.
Illyria: (to Wes, who's standing holding the weapon again) You would do this to me.
Wesley: I'd try anyway. Every time.
Illyria: (gasping) I possess so much grace, more grace than this bag of sticks could express. I was the immaculate embodiment of rule. (a glowing blue fracture appears in Illyria's cheek; her body starts cracking apart, shooting out blue light everywhere) I blame this on the weakness of your species.
Wesley: Fair enough. (aims the weapon at Illyria, pulling the trigger)
(The weapon shoots out a beam of light, hitting Illyria in her stomach. It draws the blue light energy from her into the weapon. Spike watches in shock. Lorne grimaces, pained, as he steps away from the ordeal. Angel watches intently. Wesley continues using the weapon on Illyria until all the fractures in her body re-seal themselves. When he turns off the weapon, Illyria collapses to the floor, convulsing for a moment.)
Wesley: (approaches her cautiously) Illyria...
Illyria: (weakly) Touch me and die, vermin.
Spike: Not a very dramatic difference, really.
Illyria: (looking sympathetically at Illyria) Everything is different.
(Observation Room)
(The four of them have left Illyria alone in the training room, but Angel and Wes remain to watch her through the observation window. She hasn't moved from her position on the floor.)
Angel: So what's the prognosis?
Wesley: She won't be stopping time... or walking through dimensions. And I suspect her physical strength has decreased somewhat.
Angel: That's what I wanted to hear. (looks at Wes) You're gonna stay with her, aren't you?
Wesley: Yes.
Angel: (sighs) Wes... I don't like where this is going. I don't like where this has been.
Wesley: I'm not in love with this thing, Angel. But... for some reason, I need it right now.
Angel: Yeah. That's just weird.
Wesley: I know. She could still prove to be problematic for us. Much of what she was is still intact. I doubt she'll ever stop trying to conquer... everything.
Angel: "Serve no master but your ambition." (turns to walk away)
Wesley: What's that?
Angel: (stops at the door) I think you may have been right before... about Illyria being a resource. She just might make the team yet. (exits)
(Conference Room)
(The demons argue with Gunn outside the conference room while Amanda waits inside alone.)
Demon: (os) We sought this child for decades. We're not letting go of it now!
Gunn: (os) Only the mother's consent will sanctify this transaction.
Demon: (os) That's exactly what we have.
Gunn: (os) Oh yeah? Show it to me.
(Lobby)
Demon: It's an agreement in principle. The child is ours.
Gunn: I can tear that apart in a courtroom. Just watch me.
Demon: But we're paying you!
Gunn: We're not taking your money!
(While Gunn argues with some of the brethren, the demon leader is talking with Hamilton.)
Hamilton: I understand, Your Holiness. Fully.
Demon: If this gets fouled here by that lunatic, our hordes will fall on this place. There won't be so much as an eyetooth left of any of them!
Hamilton: Yes, well, that would be more... Angel's business than mine.
(He gestures to Angel, who has just walked into the lobby.)
Demon: (os) She won't make it through another day.
Gunn: (os) You think we can't protect her?!
Demon: The Fell are everywhere. We are a force of nature.
Angel: Gunn. The baby belongs to the Fell.
Gunn: What? She hasn't signed anything. There's nothing on paper.
Angel: (ignores Gunn's protest, turns to the brethren) Gentlemen.
(He walks into the conference room, followed by the demon brethren.)
Gunn: Angel. What are you doing?
Angel: (notices Hamilton watching) What we're supposed to. Serve our clients.
(He walks into the conference room, closing the door.)
Fade to black.
Season Five Guide