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Checkpoint (November 22, 2000) Written by: Jane Espenson & Douglas Petrie |
| Teaser |
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INT. BUFFY'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (NIGHT 1) BUFFY, GILES, WILLOW, TARA and ANYA are just gathering in Buffy's living room. Buffy seems unprepared for the meeting to start. She is gathering up empty soda cans, a discarded jacket...
I'll just get that... XANDER enters, his arm in a cast.
Sorry I'm late. (re: cast) This thing makes driving an adventure in steering. Xander looks for a place to sit. Buffy grabs a pile of magazines off the only remaining chair for him.
Dawn left those here...
It's all right, Buffy. I know this meeting is short notice.
Mom's still not a hundred percent, and I guess I haven't really been taking up the slack...
The place looks fine, Buffy.
There's, like, a sweater under the sofa. As Buffy pulls a sweater from under the sofa...
(off Willow's look) Well, I can't get it. Your troll broke my wrist.
My troll? Buffy looks at the sweater. It's military-looking, olive-green with that sort of suede-y patch thing on the shoulder. And it's large -- clearly Riley's. We can see that it's hitting her to find it here with him long gone.
That must've belonged to... (realizes) Um... aren't we s'posed to have a meeting?
Yes, we are here for a reason...
(under her breath) I didn't create the troll... I didn't date the troll... (starting to have fun) In fact I hate the troll. I helped deflate the troll- (off Xander's look) All done.
I've had some rather... I've had some news. It seems that the Council of Watchers has found some information that may help us out. There is some general sitting up straight and looking interested.
About Glory?
Presumably. We'll find out when they arrive. It could be quite important.
Arrive? They're coming here? Now? Why do they have to come here?
Yeah, don't they have phones? Hallo, Buffy, here's some stuff we know, pip pip.
Yes. Phones! I'd like them to phone!
What's so bad about them coming here? Aren't they good guys? I mean, Watchers, that's just like whole other Gileses, right?
Yes! They're scary and horrible! Giles shoots Buffy a wry look.
They come across a little, well, a little hard-nosed, but they do share our agenda. They want to save the world, kill the demons...
Kill the current demons, right? Current demons.
Giles, I don't want them here. I don't trust them. Make them not come here.
They're probably already on the way. Our old friend Quentin Travers is heading up a delegation.
They put me through that thing, that test and almost killed me and then, when I was Faith, they almost killed me again. Honestly, I cannot handle more almost being killed right now!
I don't like the sound of this. They don't sound ex-demon compatible.
Are you sure they're English? (aside to Willow) I thought English people were gentler than normal people.
Maybe they won't be so bad this time. I mean, Buffy, they did think you were Faith last time. Now that they know you're just you... maybe they won't care enough to kill you.
It's not just that. They're going to screw things up. Everything's kinda delicate right now. There's, you know, Dawn to take care of...
Yeah, but that's not new. You always take care of her.
Right, right. I mean it's a dangerous time. Glory is out there somewhere and I don't want the council distracting me... INT. BUFFY'S STAIRWELL - SAME TIME - NIGHT Dawn stands on the stairs, eavesdropping as Buffy continues:
...or getting in the way. Giles, I don't need them looking over my shoulder when we're not even sure what we're dealing with...
But that's precisely why we need to talk to them... Joyce comes down the stairs, catches Dawn.
Dawn, honey, what are you doing up at this hour? Go back to bed.
I was just getting a snack. Dawn turns and heads upstairs. INT. BUFFY'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Scene continues. They're all looking toward the stairs.
(yelled) Dawn! Are you listening?
I can get a snack if I want to.
She was listening.
Does it matter? I mean is she really gonna set the Junior High buzzing with "There's a delegation a-comin'?"
I don't know. It's just... sometimes we say stuff... I guess it's okay. Giles, you were saying something.
Just that if the Council knows something about Glory, her agenda, her origins, then maybe it will help us get a grip on what we're dealing with. Because, right now, I think we're a little lost. INT. GLORY'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY Closeup of GLORY. Unlike we've ever seen her before - she's shaking, hand to her mouth, looking terrified. She is in the throes of withdrawal. Her short, shuddering breaths come fast and shallow. Reveal she is huddled in a corner of her room, her whole body tightly compacted in a ball. She's fully dressed in a sharp business outfit - but one shoe's on, one shoe's off. She's losing it. BOOM! We hear a door open. Glory sharply jerks her head up to see: Two DEMONIC MINIONS (DREG and JINX) drag a beaten, half-conscious MAILMAN into the room, pulling the frightened guy towards Glory.
Mistress - at last we've found one.
Hurry. Together, they roughly throw the guy to the floor in front of Glory - an offering. Glory looks at the guy, but there's no sense of recognition in her eyes. The Mailman pleads:
Oh God - please, don't hurt me. I'm begging you. Just let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone.
(to Jinx) Help her. Ignoring the Mailman's pleas, each minion takes one of Glory's hands by the wrist. She's getting worse - starting to convulse like an epileptic.
We are here for you, great one.
Drink. The minions each place one hand at the side of the Mailman's skull.
W-what is this? What the hell are you things doing to... Glory shows a flicker of recognition. Of consciousness. And the second she does - she PLUNGES both hands deep into the Mailman's skull, sending out a blinding shower of light.
MeeeEEEE!!! His screams die out as the lightshow subsides. The minions look to Glory, worried. Glory slides herself back, takes a deep breath and shakes her head to clear it. Jinx reaches out to give her a hand. She waves him off.
No, I'm good. It's okay. She gets to her feet, starts to stabilize. The Mailman, looking worse for the brain suck, is now backing away from them, muttering like a madman.
(to himself) I know, you're all always looking at me, I can tell, always tell I can see...
Try not cutting things so close next time. Understood?
We live to serve.
As always.
Cool. Okay, take this mess out with the rest of the trash. And you. She points to Jinx. He stops as Dreg hauls the still-muttering Mailman out of the room.
Got something to tell me?
(nods) Indeed, Glorificus.
And I'm waiting...
We have found that the signs of alignment are moving... faster than expected.
Meaning...
If you are to use the Key - you must act quickly. Long pause as Glory thinks this over. Jinx prepares himself for Glory's violent response, but:
Fine. Jinx reacts. Glory starts fixing her hair in the mirror.
I've been cooling my heels in this crappy little town long enough. Sunnydale's got too many demons, and not enough retail outlets.
All you need is the Key...
Yeah... And I'll bet Mousy the Vampire Slayer has an idea where it is. She turns from the mirror, put together now.
That bitch knows more than she's letting on, I can feel it.
If I may remind your eminence: (small) ... You don't have much time.
Baby. If that girl's the only thing between me and my Key? I don't need much time. BLACK OUT.
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| Act One |
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OMITTED INT. MAGIC BOX - DAY (DAY 2) Giles and Anya are tending the shop. A few customers wander around. Giles is showing a spell book to a WOMAN.
Now, if you're serious about these, ma'am, you need to be careful. Measure precisely and please, don't skip ahead...
He's right. QUENTIN TRAVERS has approached unnoticed.
You wouldn't want to do anything dangerous. (looking at the book) Turn the wrong person into a badger... Six other COUNCIL MEMBERS are also in the store. Some of them stand stiffly by the door, others move around among the displays. There are four men and two women. Two of the men (Nigel and Phillip) and one of the women (Lydia) will talk.
Quentin. I didn't realize you were here. Travers gives a little smile. It's hard to tell if it's friendly or mocking.
Evidently. The woman with the book moves away.
It's been a while. I see you've brought some of your colleagues with you. Would you like to introduce us?
First I thought you and I could catch up.
Certainly, certainly. Well, this is the shop, obviously. It's been an interesting transition into the retail world, but I think it's going rather well. I can give you the grand tour, if you'd like.
That's all right. I think I can see what you've been up to. Giles hesitates, slowly getting the message that Travers isn't enthused about the shop.
Yes, well. I do limit my time here, of course. Buffy and I train a great deal these days. There's a back room that we've had fitted out...
Hmm. I thought perhaps you needed that space for the really dangerous items that should be kept out of the public's hands. Or maybe you don't worry about that.
I'm very careful. Other Council members are inspecting the merchandise critically. One of them, is a 40ish Indian man, NIGEL, self-important and totally devoted to Travers.
Most of this stuff couldn't hurt anyone. Dimestore trinkets, incense... but there are some things...
I'm sorry. Who are you? Another Council member, LYDIA, also looks up. She's young, attractive, over-educated and awfully darn proud of that last part.
There are some very potent elements here: focusing crystals, runic artifacts, an amulet of Caldys. Also, this statue... (holds it up) Its removal from Burma is a felony and when triggered it has the power to melt human eyeballs.
(trying for the joke) In that case I've severely underpriced it.
Giles... I'm sorry. This is just for the duration of our stay, but I think you see why...
What? What is just for the duration-- Nigel moves into the center of the store, speaks authoritatively.
Magic Box shoppers, we are going to have to ask you to leave. The store is closing early today. Another Council member, PHILLIP, takes a crystal ball out of someone's hands. Phillip's a large muscle-y guy, but he's just as academic and stuffy as the rest of 'em.
(to the customer) Terribly sorry for the inconvenience. The customer scurries out. Other confused customers head for the door. Council members go up to other shoppers, take items from their hands, show them toward the door...
Hey! Giles, what are they doing? Customers, please bring your money back!
(to Travers) You knew you were going to do this before you even saw the place--
I'm sorry. But it is just for the duration of the Council's review.
The Council? You're the Council? Anya changes attitudes instantly, smiling in what she hopes is a calm and human manner.
Welcome to the store. We're closed now and I'll be in the other room. She starts to head toward the training room.
What "review"? Quentin, let's stop for a moment and talk about this... Travers raises a hand, cutting Giles off.
You, miss, you work here? Anya stops, braces herself and turns to face him.
Yes. I do. Ever since I moved here from south-eastern Indiana where I was raised by a mother and a father.
You sell these... items? To whomever wishes to buy them?
No. Only to people with money.
Anya, go. You don't need to talk to him. (to Travers) She works for me. Giles looks to Travers, but he doesn't fight it. Grateful, Anya heads for the training room and exits.
Tell me about this review. No one said anything to me about this. Travers seats himself at the table. Giles follows his lead and sits opposite him. The other Council members stand near the table, listening and looking impassive. Giles eyes them.
(to the members) You can all just stand around and look somber. (beat) Good job.
You used to respect us, Giles. Used to be one of us.
You used to pay me. If you recall, firing me was not my idea. Travers smiles... he's cool enough to know when he's been bested.
Touche. But you were on the inside once, and you know what kind of resources we command. We have discovered information about this creature... your "Glory." Some of it is clearly vital. The rest of it is merely extremely disturbing. And none of it will be handed over until we know that you and your Slayer are prepared for it. Thus the review.
I don't want to put Buffy through another one of your insane tests...
It's not a test. It's a check of her methods. We need to know that this information is safe.
I think it should be enough that I vouch for her. You can trust her. Buffy has come very far recently. She's acquired a remarkable focus. INT. UC SUNNYDALE - CLASSROOM - DAY Buffy is in a lecture class, bored to death, looking around, kicking her foot, chewing her pencil... The instructor, PROFESSOR ROBERTS paces and lectures. Buffy bites too hard on her pencil and crushes it. She spits pencil pieces into her hand during the following:
...Now, Rasputin was associated with a certain obscure religious sect. They held the bizarre tenet that in order to be forgiven, one first had to sin. Rasputin embraced the doctrine and proceeded to sin impressively and repeatedly. The notion that he was in fact "evil" gained strength years later when the conspirators who set out to kill him found it nearly impossible to do so.
Nearly impossible?
I'm sorry? There was a question? Buffy stands up. The prof recognizes her, looks resigned.
Miss Summers. Of course.
About the killing of him... I mean these guys, they poisoned him and they beat him and they shot him. And he didn't die-
Until they rolled his body in a carpet and drowned him in a canal.
But there are reported sightings of him as late as the 1930's, aren't there? Professor Roberts is clearly losing patience with her now.
There are reported sightings of pink elephants and little green men, but they don't bear mentioning in a history class. What exactly are you implying?
I'm not implying, I'm only saying... What if the reports were true and the books were wrong? I mean-
(cutting her off) I assure you, there's near consensus in the academic community regarding Rasputin's death-
There was near consensus about Columbus too, until someone asked the Vikings what they were up to in the 1400's and they were like - "discovering this America-shaped continent." Professor Roberts takes this in, not pleased. He doesn't appreciate having his life's work questioned. Buffy senses his mounting anger, offers a little more weakly-
I just think, you know, it might be interesting to come at it from a different perspective...
Well, I'm sorry that these facts are so boring for you, Ms. Summers. Maybe you feel I should step aside so you can teach your own course. Speculation 101, perhaps. Intro to Fights of Fancy... The class laughs a little at this. Buffy takes this in, her face growing hot with embarrassment.
No, I only meant-
What was it you were on about last week? The mysterious sleeping patterns of the Prussian generals? Again, titters from the crowd. Then-
Now. Some of us are here to learn. Believe it or not, we're interested in the way things actually happened. We call it "studying history." (then) You can sit down now. Unless you have anything else to add, Professor. Buffy, humiliated, slowly sits - feeling the eyes of the class on her... EXT. GRAVEYARD - NIGHT Buffy is fighting a LARGE VAMPIRE.
(mocking the prof) "Young lady." "Miss Summers." She throws him up against a backhoe. The vamp snarls and comes back at her.
"Take a bow, Miss Summers." She punches him back up against the crypt.
(genuinely confused) Who are you talking to? The vamp fights back now. She absorbs a hard blow that sends her staggering back. She regroups, ready to attack again, when a FIGURE tackles the vamp. It's SPIKE. He stakes the vamp. It dusts.
Spike! Why did you do that?
Not for money, if that's what you think. Your heartfelt gratitude is plenty. 'Spect I'll be getting that any moment now.
Gratitude?! For getting in my way?
Getting in your way? I saved you!
I was regrouping.
You were about to be regrouped into separate piles. You needed help.
I didn't need you. I never need you, Spike. Spike looks like he's been slapped, but he bounces back:
Oh, I get it. You just don't like who did the rescuing, that's all. Wishin' I was your boyfriend what's-his-height. Oh wait, he's run off.
I don't need a boyfriend. To rescue me or for any other reason.
Don't need? Or can't keep? You keep making notches on the headboard, but eventually they get out of bed and run away, don't they?
You're disgusting.
Rough talk. Maybe that's what your problem is, you push 'em away? Or is it the other - maybe you cling too much? Or p'rhaps it's even simpler. Check your breath lately? Or maybe the beauty's fading. The stress of Slaying aging you prematurely. Things not like they used to be... not as high, not as firm.
You know, Spike, the more I get to know you, the more I wish I didn't.
...Or maybe you just don't hold their interest. And to her surprise, he turns and saunters away. Startled, Buffy tries to shrug off what he said, but it hurts. INT. HOSPITAL - NIGHT Ben, pulling on his jacket over his scrubs, heads around a darkened corner. A scabby arm snakes out, pulls him back into the shadows. It's Jinx.
Begging permission to speak with you. Ben looks at him coldly, pulls his arm form Jinx's grasp. Jinx grovels.
Don't touch me, you're crusty. What do you want?
Not me. The magnificent Glory. She wants. She wants more information on the Slayer. She knows you know her.
The Slayer? I don't know any Slayer. Get away from me. You shouldn't be here.
Oh, I believe you do, sir. She's short, symmetrical, hair on top... Buffy something-
Buffy Summers is the Slayer?
That's the one. Very clever of you.
I knew she was strong - the Slayer. I didn't think a Slayer would be so- How does Glory know this?
I do not know. I was not there. But the beauteous Glory said for you to tell us, please. Where her dwelling is, who her friends are...
Why? So Glory can find her? Do something to her? Why would I do that?
I don't know, sir. She just said to tell you to do it for her. That was her message.
Well, I've got a message for Glory too. INT. MAGIC BOX - NIGHT Giles is leading Travers and the rest of the Council members out from the training room.
...we've been developing a sort of hybrid fighting style. I can outline her progress for you and I think you'll see that your review isn't strictly needed... Buffy enters, sees them, pivots and tries to slip back out.
Bad day. Bad, bad day.
Miss Summers! Caught, Buffy slowly turns around.
Good to see you again.
Mr. Travers.
Giles was just telling us about your training regimen. Perhaps you'll favor us with a demonstration while we're here.
You mean, like, right now? 'Cause, already had my recommended daily dose of fights tonight.
Did you then? Very good! Very good. Tell us about it.
A Vampire. Spike dusted him. Giles looks disappointed.
(quickly) I was regrouping.
Well, I wouldn't worry about doing anything for us tonight. No need to rush you. Buffy looks at Giles.
They may be staying slightly longer than I anticipated.
We've already laid out our project for Mr. Giles. Nigel...
It's an exhaustive review of your procedures and abilities. We'll observe your training, talk to your friends...
Talk to my friends?
Yes. We understand you're still taking civilians along on your patrols-
You've got to be kidding.
He's not kidding. He's a very serious man.
Sorry. Who are you?
They're a little tight-lipped with the introductions.
Miss Summers- Buffy, I can sense your resistance. I don't blame you, but I think your watcher hasn't reminded you lately of the relative status of the players in our little game. The Council fights evil. The Slayer is the instrument with which we fight. The Council remains. The Slayers... change. It's been that way from the beginning.
Yes, that's a very comforting, bloodless way to look at it, isn't it?
Giles, let me talk to Buffy. Because I think she's understanding me. (to Buffy) Glory is stronger than you. She's a more powerful instrument, if you will. But we can help you. We have information that will help. Pass the review and we give it to you without reservation. Fail the review, either through incompetence or by resisting our recommendations-
Resisting your recommendations? She fails if we don't do whatever you say? How much under your thumb do you think we are?
How much do you want our help?
She's not your bloody "instrument"! You've got no right to do any of this! Giles is getting in Traver's face, poking him in the check. Phillip moves closer, using his size to intimidate.
Giles-
And now you're using this bloke to try to shut me up? I knew you were all thugs at heart.
Calm down. Calm down. I understand that you feel this is unfair. Travers gestures for Phillip to back off and he does. Giles backs off grudgingly as well.
But there are factors which should motivate you to go along with the review. I don't want to do this, but obviously, we could shut this place down permanently. Giles is suddenly more stunned than angry - he never though they'd go that far. Buffy, also, is aghast.
You can't do that. You don't have that kind of power.
Of course we do. And a great deal more. In face, if you insist on fighting us - we'll arrange to have Mr. Giles deported within the day. Never set foot in this country again.
(stunned) What?
Perhaps you're used to idle threats and sloppy discipline, Ms. Summers, but you're dealing with grown ups now. (then) Am I making myself clear? Buffy looks at Giles, reads his defeat. Off her face as it sinks in, we... BLACK OUT.
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| Act Two |
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INT. GLORY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Glory emerges from the shower, her body and hair wrapped in red towels. She searches the bottles on her vanity table.
Jinx? If you and Dreg have been using my moisturizer again I'm going to have to rip off your scaly- hey, what's the deal with your face? REVEAL Jinx. His right eye is swollen shut and there is a huge lumpy bruise on his forehead.
It's a message.
It looks more like an enormous lumpy bruise. Does this hurt? She jabs her thumb into his bruise. He gasps but doesn't step back. He can barely say...
Very much.
Huh. She finds the moisturizer, starts applying it to her arms and shoulders.
It's a message from Ben. He isn't going to help. Glory freezes, suddenly serious.
He isn't going... He isn't going to help? All he needs to do is hand over that tiny squirming Slayer girl! I have business to do with her! If she knows where to start looking for my Key... Arrrh! Why won't he help? He knows her, he could go to her, he could talk to her, hell, he could seduce her and bang the Key out of her.
He's quite attractive.
Well of course he's attractive, but he drives me insane. You know what I mean?
He drives you insane.
(as if it's a new concept) Yes! That's it exactly! Suddenly sweet, she puts an arm around Jinx, pulls him in close, an arm looped around his neck.
Sweet lumpy minion, you're the only one that understands. Probably 'cause I haven't sucked the brain out of you yet. He makes me so mad! If I could just get my hands on him, you know? Jinx nods, eyes frightened. INT. MAGIC BOX - NIGHT Buffy sits at the table, looking dejected. Giles paces angrily.
It's a power play, is what it is. It's all about who has the power.
I'm guessing they do. Big power outage in Buffy County.
I should've set you loose on 'em, that's what I should've done.
Giles, that guy Travers, he's like sixty something years old. I can't hit him. (beat) Can I?
I suppose not. But I bloody well could. Think I will.
Can they really do the stuff they threatened to do? Kick you out of the country?
In a hot second. Giles polishes his glasses vigorously.
They're all right when it comes to the rough stuff, a little ham-handed but they get it done. But this stuff, bureaucracy, pulling political strings, paperwork... this is where they're the best in the world. They can kill you with a stroke of the pen. Poncy buggers. His polishing pops a lens out of the frame. A little embarrassed, he sets the broken glasses aside.
Giles? Am I going to get through this thing? This review? Seeing her vulnerability, Giles sits down, the anger gone. He puts on his glasses, realizes they're missing a lens and takes them back off.
Well, they can make it as difficult as they wish, I suppose. The physical tests could be quite a challenge.
I'm not worried about that. I know I can do that. It's the other stuff. Examining decisions I've made. I mean, twice now I've let myself get within Slaying-distance of Glory and twice she's kicked my ass without ever tensing a muscle. And I haven't been able to figure out what she is or anything about her except that she wants the key which I have and I can't even figure out if it's okay for me to tell anyone that!
Buffy, no one else could have done any better.
But no one else is going to be asked all these questions I can't answer. They're going to expect me to be like... like a Slayer, like I should know stuff. But I'm just me and I don't know anything. Then they're going to go away and never tell me about how to fight Glory and I won't be able to protect Dawn.
Buffy, Buffy. Calm down. The scandal here isn't anything you've done wrong. It's the way they're behaving, holding what they know hostage. With a gun pointed at my bleedin' green card no less. It's humiliating.
Also smart. They picked the perfect thing. I can't lose you too. I need you.
Thank you.
I need to get ready. Tell me what you think it'll be like. How do you think they'll start? INT. XANDER'S APARTMENT - DAY (DAY 3) Phillip sits at the table with Xander and Anya.
Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. Twenty years old. Born on the fourth of July, and don't think there weren't jokes about that my whole life, mister, 'cause there were. "Who's our little patriot?" they'd say when I was younger and therefore smaller and shorter than I am now. And when I was seven, I had a pet dachshund that died from chocking on a wiener, which I find ironic.
So... you spell it A-N-Y-A, then?
Yes.
Fine. Now we can get to the questions. INT. WILLOW'S DORM ROOM - DAY Nigel stands, holding a clipboard, looking very imposing. Willow and Tara sit nearby. They look small and nervous.
Questions. Great.
We can answer questions.
Well, I'd like to know a little bit more about the Slayer and about both of you. Your relationship, whatever you can tell me. Tara and Willow share a quick alarmed look.
Our relationship?
We're... friends.
Good friends.
Girlfriends, actually.
Yes. We're girlfriends.
(stronger) We're in love. Lovers. We're gay lesbian-type lovers.
(expressionless) I meant your relationship with the Slayer.
Um... just good friends. INT. XANDER'S APARTMENT Scene continues. Phillip, Xander and Anya at the table.
Best friends. Willow and me and Buffy - the three of us have been together from the beginning. We've always gone on patrols and done demon research with her and everything.
Have you mastered any fighting disciplines over the years?
No. But I did get a whole lot of knowledge about the military... Phillip looks pleased and writes that down.
...and then I lost it. Phillip erases.
So you have no special skills or powers or knowledge that you bring to the mix. Neither of you.
Just enthusiasm for killing the demons. Go deadness for the demons!
I don't have powers, but I do help.
How? Be specific.
He recently tried to reason with a troll. However, the troll was ultimately unreasonable. (confidentially) Broke his wrist.
Oh! Last year, Willow and Giles and me combined our essences with Buffy. Which isn't as weird as it sounds. (proudly) We merged and I was the heart-part of a super-Buffy. Again, let me stress the not-as-weird thing. I'm told it was all very professional.
Are you saying that the Slayer needs that level of help from you often? INT. WILLOW'S DORM ROOM - DAY The scene continues. Nigel interrogates Willow and Tara.
(rushed) No! No, she doesn't need help!
She'd be fine without us. Sometimes she goes off and does stuff and doesn't even tell us.
Not that she's like, a weird loner or anything.
I'm not sure we're saying this right.
See, here's the thing. We can help because we do magicks. I'm working on this ball of sunshine thing. See, I have this theory-
It's very cool-
If it works, much easier slaying for Buffy. Not that it's hard for her now-
Interesting. What level are you at?
Level?
Magical proficiency level.
Oh, a high level. Very high. One of those... top... levels.
Five. As Nigel writes that down:
(mouthed to Tara) Five? Tara shrugs.
And you're registered as practicing witches under the names as you gave them to me?
R... r... registered?
Yes! Yes, of course we're r... r...
Registered. INT. XANDER'S APARTMENT - DAY Phillip with Xander and Anya.
Do either of you know anything about the Key?
Nope. Sounds demon-y to me. I don't hold with that demon nonsense. Muffin? I cooked them myself! She shoves the basket of muffins at Phillip. He declines.
So Buffy sometimes protects you from dangerous elements of her work?
Yes! She'd never let us get hurt.
Other than the wrist.
She's saved my life lots of times!
What amount of the Slayer's time would you estimate she spends saving you or her other friends?
Seventy-eight.
Anya! (then) Forty? No! No! Wait, that's not the way to look at it. I don't know if you guys are worried about what Buffy's doing to us or what we're doing to her or whatever, but I can promise you that none of us would ever do anything to put her in danger. We couldn't. We prelap:
You can't hurt anyone? INT. SPIKE'S CRYPT - DAY Spike sits on his bier. Two Council members stand in front of him, braced and tense. One holds out a cross, the other has a crossbow trained on Spike. Lydia, wearing a turtleneck, stands some distance away, holding a clipboard.
That's right.
But you are a vampire.
If I'm not, I'm gonna be pissed about drinking all that blood. Lydia doesn't crack a smile.
So it's this chip in your head that keeps you from hurting people.
My goodness, you put that together all on your own? That's right. Leastways that's what I've got 'em all believing. The humans all tense at that.
Could just be a hoax, though. I fake some headaches, everyone gets used to poor helpless Spike. Then one day, no warning, I snap a spine, bend a head back, drain 'em dry. Brilliant. If she's scared, she hides it well. She soldiers on...
The chip. Assuming it exists. It takes away the... ability. But it leaves... leaves the... He smiles at her sexily.
Desire? Yeah, I've got tons of that. She's a little shaken by his flirting.
Um... but we understand that you help the Slayer.
I pitch in when she pays me.
She pays you? She gives you money?
Money, little nip of blood out of some stray victim, whatever.
Blood?
Sure, if they're gonna die anyway. Come to think of it though, that is a bit scandalous, innit? Personally, I'm shocked. The girl's slipping.
You've noticed a decline in her work?
Oh yeah. See, the poor little twig can't keep a man. Gets her all down. A few more disappointments, she'll be crying on my shoulder, mark my words.
Is that what you want? I'd think you want to kill her. You've killed slayers before...
Heard of me, have you?
(quietly) I wrote my thesis on you.
Well, well. Isn't that neat. Lydia blushes.
Tell me, pet, now we're such good friends... how's the Slayer doing? She okay? High marks in all categories? And we pre-lap:
Agility, clarity, stamina, strength... INT. TRAINING ROOM - DAY - LATER The training room has been cleared, the vaulting horse pushed to the wall. Travers, Giles, Lydia, Phillip and the other Council members look on from the edges of the room. Travers holds a clipboard.
The Slayer must posses these qualities to do her job. We see Nigel is blindfolding Buffy in the center of the room. She stands next to the stuffed dummy.
(nervous) What came after agility?
If you want her to attack the dummy, I can assure you-
Phillip will attack the dummy. The Slayer's job is to protect it. Do you understand?
Protect the dummy.
As if it were precious. Buffy nods - she knows what it is to have something precious to protect. Nigel moves out of the field of play. Phillip moves in, dressed for martial arts. He carries a large battle ax. Buffy is unarmed.
Getting the best of Phillip will require agility. Listening to my instructions at the same time... that will demonstrate clarity. Stamina and strength will win the long fight. Good luck.
Wait... instructions?
I'll be telling you what to do. How to counter Phillip's moves. We assume you're familiar with the Japanese names for Akido and Jujitsu moves.
Japanese?!
And... go!
Just like that? Go? In America we work our way up to "go." Phillip bows to Buffy.
Shomen-ni-rei. Buffy tenses, no idea what's going on.
He wants you to bow. Take a bow. Confused, thinking of class earlier, Buffy tries to look toward Giles. Phillip charges the dummy. Buffy senses him, a little late, and throws herself between him and the dummy. The dummy gets shoved a little bit and it rocks but doesn't fall. Phillip comes at her again...
Shomen-zuki! Phillip lands a punch. Giles translates a millisecond too late...
Punch him!
Thanks Giles!
Sorry. Now Phillip is coming at her from behind...
Ushiro-geri! Empi-uchi! Buffy spins, trying to sense where Phillip is...
Back-kick! Elbow soup?-Elbow strike!
(to Giles) How have you been training her?
I've been training her to win.
Know what? I'm gonna have to do this my way, guys. Phillip is bringing the ax down on top of her. She plants a foot in his side hard and manages to grab the ax and wrench it out of his grasp. It flies and THE AX EMBEDS ITSELF IN THE DUMMY'S HEAD. The force sends the dummy sliding. It hits Nigel and falls over on top of him.
Oh! Buffy rips off her blindfold to see: NIGEL Lying on his back under the dummy, the ax blade through its head suspended right over his face. PHILLIP Holding his side.
I think she broke my rib. GILES Trying to smile at her encouragingly, but just looking pained.
Well.
I didn't mean to... I can do better. I think I'm getting this inner-ear infection and maybe if I get a note I could try again later...?
That's all right. I don't think we need to see any more physical tests for a while. We can move on to the real review. Look into your strategies and plans, figure out what's going on in that head.
Oh good. Head stuff.
We start at seven tonight. Give you time to... well, however you prepare. Buffy tries not to look terrified. INT. BUFFY'S HOUSE - FOYER AREA/LIVING ROOM - DAY Buffy unlocks the front door, enters. She looks tired.
Mom? She drops her backpack onto the floor and turns into the living room, head down. She almost bumps into someone. She raises her head. Glory is standing right in front of her.
Long day, Sweetie? BLACK OUT
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| Act Three |
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INT. BUFFY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY Continuous. Buffy stands shocked, face to face with Glory.
So this is where the Slayer eats and sleeps and combs her hair. So cute. I can't even stand it. She breezes past Buffy, taking in the living room, talking all the while. As she passes, Buffy doesn't move a muscle. Only her eyes shift slightly. Buffy's P.O.V As Glory talks, we see a FIREPOKER just standing there...
Personally, I need more space, but this is good for you. It's so quaint and... Buffy casually edges behind the oblivious Glory, who's on the other side of the room. Buffy reaches for the firepoker.
(mock scolding) Tsk. Buf-fee.... Buffy looks up to see Glory is now standing right in front of her.
If I wanted to fight, you could tell by the being dead already. Glory gently takes the firepoker away from Buffy, puts it back, and sits down.
So play nice, little girl.
What do you want?
The Key. Why else do you think I'd come here? See, I think you know where the Key is.
Glad you think so.
Well, it is the only thing keeping you alive right now. 'Cause you may be tiny Queen in Vampire World, but to me? You're a bug. As Glory talks, Buffy's eyes go just a little bit wide. We see what she sees: DAWN has just entered the living room, behind Glory. Seeing the look on Buffy's face, Dawn gets something's up, and freezes.
(silent, mouthing) "What?" Glory keeps talking, oblivious.
You should get down on your knees, and worship me. Without moving her head, Buffy shifts her eyes toward the kitchen door. Dawn takes a step in that direction. Buffy nods almost imperceptibly. Dawn takes another step. Keeps going as Glory talks. Buffy keeps her eyes on Glory.
But you still thinks it's "neat" having Slayer strength. Ooh, big deal, stronger than humans. Phht. Who isn't? Dawn is almost out of the room...
I could crush the life from you as easy as you'd break a nail. But I need the Key. (suddenly) Kid. Dawn freezes. Glory puts a hand out to Dawn without looking back. She just knows she's there.
C'mere a sec. Dawn hesitates.
Leave her out of this.
Not asking twice...
This is between you and me.
(mock patience) No... this is between me and my Key. You just happen to be the thing in the way. Glory SNAPS her fingers sharply, still not looking back. Dawn, arms folded and looking creeped out, steps forward. Glory looks at her for the first time.
And you - are just the darlinest think I ever did see in my life. What's your name, honey?
Dawn.
Dawn. Did you know your sister took my Key, Dawnie? And she won't give it back. Bet you know where she put it, don't you?
She doesn't know anything.
I know some stuff.
Bet she takes your things all the time without asking, huh? Where's my Key, Dawn?
(to Dawn) Go upstairs. Dawn looks from Buffy to Glory. Dawn takes a step back, heading out.
You're always talking about stuff I'm not supposed to hear. I'm gonna figure it out, you know! Dawn leaves. Buffy
I like her, she's sassy. (beat) And I'll kill her. Kill your Mom. Kill your friends. Make you watch when I do. (shrugs) Just give me the Key. Either you have it, or you know where to find it. She rises.
Obviously, this is a one-time only deal. Next time we meet, something you love dies bloody. You know you can't take me. You know you can't stop me. Glory heads for the door.
Oh. And the next time you have guests? Little plate of sugar cookies. I'm just saying. Glory leaves, shutting the door behind her. Beat. Buffy just sits there, trying to think, when JOYCE enters.
Buffy, who was that?
(eyes on the door) Pack a bag. INT. SPIKE'S CRYPT - DAY We see a closeup of SPIKE, sleeping peacefully in his crypt. The beam of a flashlight dances over his face. He wakes up with a start, ready to fight.
Aah! (then, relaxing) Oh, it's the Slayer. For a second there I was worried. Reverse to show Buffy holding a flashlight on Spike. Standing just behind her are Joyce and Dawn.
So, what can I do you for? Buffy takes Spike aside, roughly, by the arm.
I need your help.
Great! I need your cash.
I'm serious. (sotto, intense) You have to look after them.
Well, that's a boatload of manly responsibility to come flying out of nowhere. What's the matter, Slayer? Not feeling a hundred percent?
(caught) No, I...
They didn't put a chip in your head, did they?
No...
Be funny if they did.
I need an answer. Now. In or out, Spike? (beat) You're... the only one strong enough to protect them. Spike's eyes narrow.
What's in it for me? Mind, I've seen what your gratitude's like. I still prefer the Benjamins.
I'll find the money. (then) I can't handle this alone.
Hmm. Guess not. All right then. (to Joyce & Dawn) Ladies. Come on in. Plenty of blood in the fridge, don't be shy.
You mean like, real blood?
What do you think?
Mostly I think, "Eew!"
Mom, keep Dawn here as long as you can. I'll be back soon as I can. She takes Spike aside.
I know I don't have to tell you this, but...
Yeah, yeah... "anything happens to them, I'll stake you good and proper." Sing me a new one sometime, eh? That bit's gone stale. Buffy considers her choice of retorts. Decides there are none. She leaves. Spike turns to Joyce and Dawn, who both look about as out of place as two people can. Long, awkward pause as the three of them just stand there with nothing to say. Then:
I love what you've neglected to do with the place.
Just don't break anything and don't make a lot of noise - "Passions" is coming on.
"Passions?" Ooh, do you think Timmy's really dead? Spike turns on his television.
No, no - she can just sew him back together. He's a doll, for God's sake.
What about the wedding? There's no way they're going through with that. Dawn rolls her eyes as Joyce and Spike make themselves comfortable before the electric blue glow of the TV set. INT. MAGIC BOX - NIGHT Lydia and Nigel inventory stock behind the counter. Giles and Quentin sit at the table, Phillip standing behind them - putting books in boxes. The Scoobies sit up on the balcony, legs hanging over like gawkers at a trial.
Look at them. Big tough Council members, picking on the books.
Fascists.
Why doesn't Mr. Giles just boot 'em all out of here?
'Cause if they deport him, they're not just destroying his career - they're condemning the man to a lifetime diet of blood sausage, bangers and mash. Quentin Travers looks at his pocket watch and frowns. He restores the watch to his vest pocket, turns to Giles.
Your Slayer is twenty minutes late and counting, Rupert.
Buffy will be here, I assure you. Beat.
When? EXT. STREET - NIGHT Buffy rushes down the street. Not running, but walking fast, aware of the time. She checks her watch.
Crap. She hustles faster. She round a corner on her way to the Magic Box when - WHOMP! - She is tackled out of frame. ANGLE ON: Buffy leaping to her feet. Something BIG just tackled her. Humanoid, but impossible to tell what it is, because a leathery HELMET covers the things face. The thing punches her. Buffy hits the ground, rolls, and comes up in the same motion in her fight-stance. She concentrates on the guy in front of her. TWO MORE appear behind her, carrying quarter-staffs, all three identically dresses creatures inching forward, surrounding Buffy, ready to attack... Buffy looks around her, sizing up the situation. This is the last of many straws in her very bad day. She's not about to snap - more like about to fold.
Guys? Is there any way we could not do this? As in response, Buffy gets PUNCHED IN THE FACE. They mysterious men all close in on her. BLACK OUT.
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| Act Four |
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EXT. STREET - NIGHT Continuous. Buffy surrounded by three masked men, all of them closing in at once. The LEAD GUY, holding a SWORD, swings it over Buffy's head. She ducks - just in time to avoid getting decapitated. The other two come in from the sides, each swirling deadly quarter-staffs. She turns to face one - and the other HITS her hard behind the knees. She drops to the ground. The masked man she's facing viciously BATS her in the face. Buffy lands hard on her back. Stunned, she looks up just in time to see the Lead Guy bringing his sword down upon her. Buffy rolls out of the way - the sword just misses her. Buffy flips to her feet as one of the quarter-staff guys brings his stick whipping around - but this time - Buffy CATCHES the staff in mid-blow. Grasping the end of the stick, she shoves it forward and KNOCKS her attacker in the face with it. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. He's out. Buffy squares off with the other two. Sword guy circles around her one way, staff-guy circling around the other way. Buffy waits for it, timing it... They both strike at once. Buffy grabs sword-guy's arm at the wrist just as he comes thrusting at her. Using his own sword, she cuts staff-guy's staff in half. Buffy then round-house kicks the staff-guy in the head, knocking him cold. Grabs a fallen quarter staff and attacks the swordsman. He staggers back. She kicks the sword from his hand. It clatters to the tarmac. Buffy tackles him hard onto the ground, jams the staff up against his windpipe, crushing the breath out of him.
All right, let's see... Buffy reaches down, still crushing the thing's throat, and grabs its mask from the bottom, just below the jaw.
...what you are. She RIPS the mask off the thing - to reveal it is a ruggedly handsome MAN in his late thirties. There's an arcane symbolic TATTOO on his forehead, matching ones on each cheek. This is ORLANDO.
Go on, Slayer - kill me. But know that my death will only buy you more time.
Okay - who are you?
One soldier in a vast army.
(whoa) What "army..."
The Knights of Byzantium. An ancient order. And now, your enemy.
You work for Glory?
You think we ally ourselves with the Beast? You must be mad.
You're the ones, tried killing me.
We were fools. (small laugh) Three alone. But if it takes a hundred men, we send the hundred. And if it takes a thousand, we send them too. So long as you protect the Key, our brotherhood will never stop until we destroy it. And you.
(softly, to herself) You'd send a thousand...
You are the Slayer. We know what we must do. Now be done with it. Kill us, and let Legions follow. Buffy thinks. Picks up Orlando's sword. Then lets him stand.
Go. He does. Buffy watches him - then looks at the sword, something forming in her mind. INT. MAGIC BOX - NIGHT Everyone is as we left them. The room is silent but for the work of The Watchers. Buffy enters, tired, contemplative, with the sword in her hand.
You're late. Buffy answers distractedly, still focused on the sword.
Yeah.
Was there an attack..?
Yeah.
Well. We can begin the review at last. We'll skip over the more obvious--
There isn't going to be a review.
Sorry? She's very calm, really, unnervingly so. She hoists the sword as she speaks, holding it up in front of her and laying it gently on the table, pointy end directly at Travers.
No review. No interrogation, no questions you know I can't answer, no hoops, no jumps... Nigel is about to speak. Buffy turns to him before he gets a sound out--
...and no interruptions. (to them all) See I've had a lot of people talking at me, last few days. People just lining up to tell me how unimportant I am. And I finally figured out why. She is stepping closer to the table, so she is really above Travers now.
Power. I have it. They don't. This bothers them. (strolls about a bit) Glory came to my house today-- There is a murmur of the crowd, some shock, concern, disapproval--
Buffy, are you all--
--Just to talk. Tell me I'm a bug, I'm a flea, she could squash me in a second... Only she didn't squash me. She came to my house and she talked. We had what in her warped brain probably passes for a civilized conversation. Why? Because she needs something from me. Because I have power over her. (to the various Watchers) You didn't come all the way from England to determine whether I'm good enough to be "let back in." You came to beg me to let you back in. To give your jobs, your lives, some semblance of meaning again.
Oh, this is beyond insolence-- The reason he doesn't finish the sentence is the sword Buffy whips off the table and hurls across the room, that sticks into the shelf inches from his head. A beat.
(eyeballing him) I'm fairly certain I said no interruptions. ANGLE: The gallery where the kids sit. Lovin' life.
(quietly) That was excellent. ANGLE: BUFFY
You're Watchers. And without a Slayer you're pretty much just watching Masterpiece Theatre. You can't stop Glory. You can't do anything with the information you have on her except publish it in the "Everyone Thinks We're Insano's Home Journal." So here's how it's going to work. You're gonna tell me everything you know. Then you're gonna go away. You'll contact me if and when you have more information. The magic shop will stay open, and Mr. Giles will stay here as my official watcher, reinstated at full salary.
(coughs into his hand:) --retroactive--
--to be paid retroactively from the month he was fired. I'll continue my work, with the help of my friends...
I... I don't want a sword thrown at me, but civilians... we're talking about children.
I'm talking about two powerful witches and a thousand year old ex-demon.
Willow's a DEMON? But nobody notices that part. Phillip looks at Xander.
The boy? No power there.
"The Boy"s clocked more field time than all of you combined. He's part of the unit.
(to Xander, softly) That's Riley-speak.
(quiet pride) I've clocked field time.
(to all the Watchers) You may all be very good at your jobs. The only way you're ever gonna find out is if you work with me. You can all take your time thinking about that, but I want an answer right now from Quentin. (turning to him) 'Cause I think he's understanding me. The echo of his own words is not lost on Quentin. He pauses, as Buffy waits.
Your terms are acceptable. WHOOPING AND CLAPPING from the gallery, that dies down after a few moments--
Sorry. Sorry. --and a quiet smile from Giles, that expresses even more. Buffy sits across from Travers. Says quietly, and not unkindly:
See? No begging.
Rupert, when we inventoried your shop, we found a bottle of single malt scotch hidden behind the incense holders.
Well, it's not that, during working hours--
I think I could use a glass. A moment for Giles to recover -- it's him and Travers accepting each other (but it's short).
(starting to rise) I suppose a few of us wouldn't mind a--
Just a minute. Even Giles responds to the authority in her, sitting again without comment.
Glory. I wanna know.
There's a lot to go through...
I just want to know what kind of demon I'm fighting.
Well, that's the thing. Glory isn't a demon.
What is she?
She's a god. A beat, as everyone takes this in. Buffy particularly.
Oh. BLACK OUT.
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