[If you're not hearing Chris Beck's lovely Buffy/Angel love theme, "Close Your Eyes," (sequenced by Noella Choi) which should load automatically, then I'll try to give you links.] Buffy/Angel Love Theme


Written by: Maverick
Directed by: Maverick
Transcribed by: Maverick

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB television network. That is also their three sentence Prologue that appears below in quotes.

This is, practically speaking, a fictional transcript of an episode that has never been, nor will ever be, filmed. It is, perhaps, a new, hybrid fictional form, and, as such, it contains anything the author thinks necessary to tell the story. Everything that does not belong to others, per the above, such as the storyline and plot, is 1998 Michael J. Vavrek.

~~~~~~~~~~ Prologue ~~~~~~~~~~

"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Sunnydale Bus Terminal.

[Note to reader: If Chris Beck's theme has stopped playing you might want to play THIS SONG to put you in the mood for what is to follow. If you get weary of it, replay Chris's theme above to stop it.]

Buffy mounts the steps of the bus as though each step is an insurmountable obstacle. She pauses at the top, seemingly exhausted. Then she sidles a few feet and drops into the only open seat she can see, which happens to be on the aisle across from a dark-haired little boy (also on the aisle) with his mother. The little boy immediately notices Buffy and is fascinated by her. When they make eye contact, he puts on his best winning smile and then tries his best to wink at her. His efforts, however, are uncoordinated: both his eyes keep closing. Finally, he resorts to using the thumb and forefinger of his left hand to hold his left eye open while winking at her with his right.

Little boy: Hubba, hubba.

Buffy: (smiling wanly) The bee's knees.

His mother, realizing what the boy is up to, gently swats in his general direction.

Mother: (to the boy) Ricky, behave yourself. (to Buffy) He gets that from his grandpa.

Buffy: Cute. Yeah, I thought I recognized the time framage.

Buffy's eyes rise to meet the woman's, but just then the bus is passing the Summer house and her eyes are drawn to the window. There's her house. It goes by quickly, and she sighs.

Giles: (in voiceover narration--some of this registering in Buffy's face while related scenes flash on the screen) Having closed the vortex and thus saving the world from literally being sucked into hell, our intrepid Slayer suddenly finds herself without the resolve to go on. Buffy's intellect tells her she has a sacred duty and that her Watcher and her friends and her mother need her in Sunnydale, but her muscles disobey. She has simply nothing left to give--she has given it all.

Willow: (in voiceover narration--some of this registering in Buffy's face while related scenes flash on the screen) Angel was the love of Buffy's life; he was an intensely self-tortured, smoldering, irresistibly handsome boy, and he drove her crazy for loving him. Oh, did I mention he was a vampire? Last night, as she was engaged in a fierce battle to the death with Angelus, the evil alter ego of Angel, her vicious opponent reverted back, right before her very eyes, to the gentle personna of her beloved Angel. Then she was forced to send her one true love, while he was virtually defenseless and trusting her, to what she believes was a truly horrible demise. She deeply feels the guilt of one who, for whatever reason, has had to betray a friend. And, because she's only human, she can't help feeling sorry for herself, in that she believes she has just destroyed, along with him, her one true chance for happiness. Now she is overcome with a profound sense of shame and loss.

Xander: (in voiceover narration--some of this registering in Buffy's face while related scenes flash on the screen) Buffy needs to recover, needs to be Recharge Girl. She needs to set T.V.S. aside, on the shelf, for a while; it's time for Buffy, the person with the inner child, to emerge. Maybe if she can just be Daddy's Little Girl again for even just a small while, everything will be all right. Hey, it worked when she was four--it's worth a shot! But, doesn't she feel good about preventing the End of the World? SCHMEND of the World. She feels HER world ended; it's just everyone else's that continues to go on.

Cordelia: (in voiceover narration--some of this registering in Buffy's face while related scenes flash on the screen) Contradictory and--let's face it--sometimes REALLY UGLY THOUGHTS compete in Buffy's mind for her attention and steal her energy. These thoughts are also tough on the hair--they take all the body out and it goes lank and loses color. Sure she somehow knew her relationship with Angel was ultimately doomed, but so what? Who said love was easy? Can she go on? (Buffy glances over at the back of the small perfect head on the little boy across the aisle. His mother talks softly to him and he hangs sweetly on her every word. Then the lady lovingly pushes his hair back from his forehead.) She was never able, before now, to face the fact that Angel could never have given her one of those--a child--and at her age, biology is a cruel demanding tyrant that you ignore only at your peril. Tell me about it! But who else is there for her? Xander? Yes, she knows she could have Xander, and Xander is okay-looking and he is actually pretty smart, and certainly he could give her a rugrat, no problem,but Willow would never forgive her, and Cordelia--eeww, what is THAT all about? But, on the other hand, she can't help thinking Xander is a shallow, surface person, all non-stop wordage, and (here Buffy mouths the next 10 words, but it is Cordelia's voice that says them) Xander is about as deep as a plate of spaghetti. Perhaps too harsh an assessment, but compared to Angel . . .

Joyce: (in voiceover narration--some of this registering in Buffy's face while related scenes flash on the screen) So, Buffy struggles to mentally regroup, and she also truly feels that anything she might do right now could lead to harm for those around her. She seeks a refuge. But time marches on.

The bus turns the corner and stops. A thin, blonde girl wearing a beret and jeans rises from the seat in front of Buffy; then the girl wrangles a duffle bag out from under the seat, drags it up the aisle, and bump, bump, bump, she drags it down the front door steps. Buffy barely notices this. At the same time another person gets on.

Cut to outside the bus.

The bus starts out again and "LOS ANGELES" is listed as its destination. The girls stands on the sidewalk watching it leave.

Cut back inside the bus.

Buffy continues to gaze out the window, while the new passenger brushes past her and continues on to the back of the bus. Some of the people in the rear seat scoot sideways and Whistler sits down.

Cut back outside the bus.

Back on the street the girl watches the bus get smaller in the distance. A hand comes from offscreen and taps her on the shoulder. A man in a work uniform (matching grey shirt and pants) hands her a wooden stake.

Man: Little lady, you've got a hole in your bag. (He points to a spot where several stakes can be seen protruding out of the bottom of the green canvas bag.) Can I help you with it?

Girl: Oh, merci, monsieur. Mais non. I am fine.

Effortlessly she tosses the big bag up and over her shoulder and strides easily away toward the large neon sign that says MOTEL. The word VACANCY flashes below it.

* * * * * * Buffy theme (Microsoft? A midi--Click on the HyperText.) (Netscape? Try the symbol.)

Library at the school.

Giles paces from the stacks to the table where Xander sits next to Cordy and across from a wheelchair-bound Willow. Xander, his arm in a cast and sling, looks glum, and he watches Giles.

Giles: (to himself) Still no word. Well, what could have happened? (to Cordy) You called her house? Cordelia: And I left the message 'it was an urgency, emergency. We need to speak to Buffy or her mom right away' I said. I even did the really nerdy thing and time-stamped it, for goodness sakes. (In a goofy voice) This is Miss Cordelia Chase. It's 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday, May the 4th.

Xander: (reminding Giles) She's a seventeen-year-old American girl, so she's been using the phone now day and night for sixteen plus years. Trust me, that's one piece of equipment this girl can handle.

Cordelia looks at Xander and nods as though she couldn't have said it better herself.

Giles: (his eyes soften) Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, Cordelia.

Oz suddenly comes through the door and everyone looks up.

Oz: Heads up. Buffy's mom's coming down the hall.

Giles: (pensively) Oh, dear. I wonder how much we can tell her.

Xander: What you mean WE, white man? You're on your own, kemo sabe.

Joyce pushes through the library doors and barges in. She has a purse and she places it down on a table off to the side where some crucifixes and bottles with crosses on them are sitting. She inadvertently knocks over a bottle of the water, which has a crack in it and it leaks slowly, the water forming a puddle. She strides up to Giles, looks around briefly and notices everyone looking at her, but then she turns back to Giles.

Joyce: Mr. Giles, what on earth is going on here? My only daughter is involved with a rock band, with some creepy, crawly British rock and roller named Spike, and you people have been allowing her to use you to cover up for this foolishness while she throws her life away. You could not even have the decency to warn her own mother? And, you, a grown British man? Is this some kind of British thing?

Giles: Spike? You know about Spike?

Joyce: Yes, I know all about that one. She had him over the house last night, trying to get me to let her join his band. He even brought some theatrical effects to try and dazzle me, but I know his type--you don't have to tell me, I'll tell you--and I saw right through him.

Giles: Spike, Spike? Early last night? (She nods.) What kind of theatrical effects?

Joyce: You know, like they do onstage at rock concerts, where people will disapper in a cloud of smoke--David Copperfield stuff. They gave me a demo--thought I might be impressed enough, with how professional they were, to let Buffy tour with their band.

Giles: And, and, excuse me, but where, exactly, did you get the impression this was a band?

Joyce: Buffy kept insisting she was a Vampire Slayer. It finally dawned on me: that must be the name of their band.

Giles: Well, Joyce, may I call you Joyce?

Joyce: I should say not! But, why, why would you permit this to happen?

Giles: Let me explain, Mrs. Summers, Please sit. We . . . I . . . there's probably something I should tell you.

On that note Xander rises and taps Cordy, who was watching the interplay between Giles and Joyce intently (like someone at a tennis match), and who thus brushes off his tap. Giles hesitates momentarily, wanting some privacy, and Cordy finally looks up at Xander, annoyed, and Xander jerks his head toward the door. Sighing she finally gets the hint and rises, moving. Oz moves forward to wheel Willow away.

Joyce: That won't be necessary, Mr. Giles. I don't want to sit here and listen to any more of your British lies. Buffy has been expelled now from this school, thanks to you and her so-called 'friends' here, and just as soon as she gets back from wherever she has run off to, we're going to start fresh somewhere else, and this time we'll make it work. Somehow.

Giles looks befuddled. Xander, smiling for the first time, motions Cordy to turn around and return to the table. Cordy is confused but rushes back.

Willow: (brightening) (to Joyce) Oh, she's okay? Are you sure she's okay? You mean she was home this morning and packed and left?

Joyce: Yes, didn't I say that?

Giles: No, not exactly. But how, Mrs. Summers, how do you know she is okay? And has gone to see . . . perhaps Mr. Summers?

Joyce: She came back to the house last night--must have been just before dawn--and packed her things and left me a note telling me that she had been expelled. But I don't think she would go see her father.

Willow: Oh, well, that's good. (Joyce looks confused.) I mean, bad. (Willow furrows her brow, then brightens again.) But good that she's okay. We were worried about her, didn't know how she was. Don't worry, we'll get her back in school. Maybe it's good that she takes some time off.

Joyce: I wouldn't allow her to come back here, with all your bad influences. Willow (Joyce turns and faces her head-on) you are the one who disappointed me the most. I almost thought there was hope for her when she brought you home as a friend.

Cordelia: (piping in) What about me? Eventually, I would have helped her shape those nails. I've just been so busy.

Cut to the hall.

The four exit the library and are seen leaving by Principal Snyder. He scurries over to talk to them.

Snyder: Well, if it isn't the Sunnydale Slacker Society.

Xander: Well, that's three S's for us, but only two for you.

Snyder's eyes narrow, but Xander's comment, as usual is just nebulous enough that Snyder knows he is unable to prove the insult.

Xander: (knowing he's in trouble, covering his ass) Mr. School Sage.

Snyder: You distress me, Harris. But, shouldn't you all be in class? (To Willow) Miss Rosenberg? Why do you let these others corrupt you? What class should you be in right now?

Willow: Ancient History.

Snyder: That would be Miss Marion Varner's class. Room 304. If I go by there in ten minutes and you are not in that classroom, I will suspend you just like I suspended your little blonde friend, if that's her real hair color. Now get moving, people. (He flaps his arms on either side of his body, and the processional moves past him.)

Cordelia: I told her she should use a rinse.

Cut to the classroom.

Xander, Willow, and Cordy are in class. Willow is far in the back in her wheelchair. They each glance over at Buffy's empty seat.

The teacher: Okay, so Attila the Hun invaded northern Italy around 450 A.D. And he was called the Scourge of God which, Mr. Harris was kind enough to point out, was a question on Jeopardy last week. (Xander gives a triumphant wave to the others in the class who ignore him) But what exactly is a scourge, Mr. Harris?

Xander: It's like a kvetch, I believe, isn't it? A Jewish person with an attitude? (He glances back at Willow who shows him her fist.)

Teacher: No, Mr. Harris. (The bell rings.) Attila was not Jewish. He wasn't Christian either. He was a something else. We'll discuss fifth century something elses tomorrow. Read Chapter 12.

Xander, pushing Willow, and Cordy file out of the class.

Willow: So, Buffy's all right. I wonder how Angel is doing? In hell?

Xander: Just fine, I imagine. He's part demon and that part is probably glad to be home. I'll bet right now he has his feet propped up in front of a TV and he's munching Doritos watching the Angels play. We're talkin' torture here, right?

Cordelia: I wonder if they get all the shopping channels down there?

Xander: I know they get them all in heaven--authentic Star Trek collectible harps and halos, so be good for goodness sake--no wait, that's Santa. But, Cordy, THIS could be your reason to be good? To get the shopping channels?

Cordelia: Well, it certainly would be a disincentive for being bad. (She gets a little animated) It could be like the preachers could preach fire and brimstone and no QVC. (Xander stops pushing Willow and looks at Cordy with a deadpan face.) What? I can't make a joke? (They start forward again.) I don't know, the more I hang with you guys and Buffy and Giles, the more it DOES seem to me that, like, hell is just another place, just somewhere else to hang out all the time. You know, like the Mall.

Willow: Well, don't be fooled. From everything I've read in Giles books, hell is a regular pain factory. No shopping. Speaking of hell, we'll still have to meet at noon in the library to discuss what may have happened to Angel.

Xander can't help but flash her a guilty look.

Cut to hell.

This particular spot in hell features a whorl of fire in the background and the low moaning of lost souls. Angel wakes and looks around. Suddenly he is doubled over in pain and he writhes on the ground. Fighting through the agony, though, he somehow gets to his feet, but then he staggers away and out of the frame.

Cut to outside the school.

Snyder, carrying a briefcase, gets into a limousine and it drives away.

Cut to Angelus's Mansion.

The alternative slayer is pacing the room where Angel was dispatched to hell, trying to get a feel for what happened there. She grabs the hilt of the sword in Acathla and then lets go while backing up with her hand suspended in the air as though she is trying to reconstruct the scene in her mind.

Cut to aboard the bus.

Buffy dozes off in her seat, then startles awake when the driver has to slam on his brakes. Whistler continues to watch her, without her knowing he's there, from the back.

Cut to the Library.

Joyce is seated at the table and Giles is seated directly across from her, looking into her eyes.

Giles: I know it's hard to believe, Mrs. Summers. But your daughter is truly The Chosen One. The Slayer. She is superhuman, really. Haven't you ever noticed how quickly she heals and how she usually does not bruise? I have, I daresay, a modest collection of hundreds of books that I could let you read on the lore of the Slayer, but you'd have to know some latin. Oh, and I have some Watcher diaries that ARE in English--well, olde English--that I can let you read here, but, sorry, I can't lend them out, you understand?

Giles: (continuing) Even now, she is stronger and more agile than most professional athletes of any age, or either sex, stronger than most of those huge muscled men who run into each other (he waves in the air) Sundays on American telly on that iron grid. Now, Mrs. Summers, you had absolutely nothing to do with her becoming The Slayer. The Ultimate Power of Good--perhaps you refer to this as God, I do--bestowed this honor--or, I suppose, YOU might consider it a curse--upon Buffy. But she's a kind of gift to the world, providing it with someone whose sole raison d'etre is to combat the forces of evil. Vampire evil.

Joyce, who has soulful eyes to begin with, looks up at Giles and she begins to tear up. Giles reaches into his back pocket and hands her a clean handkerchief.

Giles: Now, let me say this, though, and this is a kind of a compliment to you. Your daughter is a lovely, free spirit--a wonderful, rollicking kind of girl--who suddenly found out that the rest of her life was mapped out in dusty old books by people long since dead; and then, of course, she has to put up with the likes of an old fuddy-duddy like me, her appointed Watcher. But, to her great credit, she has accepted this disappointment with great aplomb and she has, in fact, embraced the responsibility. And I consider her, not only my pupil but also . . . (Giles chokes up) my best friend. Forgive me. (He takes the handkerchief back from Joyce and blows his nose with it and puts it back into his pocket.) And as a person, she is extraordinary, and as a woman, well . . . I would put her right up there next to (he raises his hand and points to a high vision) someone like . . . Margaret Thatcher. (He looks over at Joyce, evidently thinking this would impress her, but she just gives him a puzzled look.)

Cut to hell.

Angel, back on the ground, struggles to his feet, staggering, holding his stomach. Then, suddenly, his hands fly up to his ears and he holds the sides of his head, grimaces, and cries out in pain, and he sinks once again to the ground.

Inside the limo.

Snyder is on the carphone. He is absentmindedly tossing a small bottle of yellow fluid into the air and catching it over and over again.

Snyder: By all means, Captain. Now that The Slayer has prevented the implosion of the world and left us something to conquer and people to subjugate, dominate, and enslave, so to speak--I hope this is a secure line--we can implement Plan B--or should I say we can eliminate B and go to Plan C--and warehouse the little brat. I have already set the plan in motion. LSD will be so pleased. (He smiles broadly) I'm on my way right now to make certain that the old man is distracted; we'll send him down the path to utter and complete financial ruin. We'll soften up his underbelly and he'll do anything to recover. (He looks out the window.) Arriving now.

Inside the bus.

Buffy looks at her watch, then she looks outside. Whistler watches from the back. The bus comes to a halt.

Driver: Los Angeles. Final destination. Everyone must exit.

Buffy gets up and moves to the front along with the others. Whistler hangs back.

Cut to outside the bus.

The side of the bus is propped open and the driver hands Buffy her bag. It is a medium-sized bag with and arm strap and she lifts it over her shoulder and schleps it away. Whistler watches.

Cut to inside the terminal.

Buffy is at a locker where she stashes her bag, after first retrieving a smaller bag from inside; she puts a coin in the slot, twists a key and pulls it free, and walks away. Whistler watches till Buffy has gone through the main sliding door, then he approaches her locker. He taps on it with the knuckle of his forefinger and it immediately springs open. Then he rifles through her things. At one point he gets a funny look on his face when he encounters a pair of silk panties with something written on them. He counts on his fingers and asks, "Thursday?" to himself and shrugs. Then he looks hurriedly through all the other compartments and finished, frowns; replacing the bag, he slams the locker door and rushes out after her.

Cut to outside the office building where Hank Summers has his office.

Snyder's limousine pulls up and he gets out. He goes through the revolving door and motions to the guard, seated at the desk in front of some tv monitors hidden below eye level. The guard recognizes him and follows.

Cut to the library.

Joyce: (looking totally exasperated and raising her voice) You're telling me my daughter was dead?

Giles: (looking flustered and looking around to see if anyone else heard this) Well, yes, well. It was prophesied by many sources. I have several of these sources here. The Brothers of Quinto were most definite on the subject, and Cresparitus of the Knights's Templars. And, needless to say, the Codex. 'The Master would kill The Slayer,' it said. I can show you the phophesy right here in a book (he gets up to retrieve it, then thinks) but, of course, you'd have to trust my translation from the Etruscan, which is a language with very convoluted syntax and very few antecedents to draw on. (She waves him off and motions for him to sit down.) But, anyway, fortunately when she died, Xander was there to perform CPR on her and she recovered. But it was touch and go for a few minutes.

Joyce watches Giles intently, like she's just seeing him for the first time. (Slow motion of Giles gesturing, smiling, looking flustered, looking shy, pushing up his glasses, looking into her eyes and smiling. Back to regular speed.)

Joyce: I never knew or suspected a thing was wrong. And I used to laugh at Lois Lane for not catching on. Well, Mr. Giles, this is all too much for me to absorb in one sitting. I'd like to stop and think about what you've said this morning before I hear more. Can we meet tonight? How about, could you come over my house this evening and perhaps tell me some more. I guess, and you must think me very dense, but I still don't understand why Buffy can't just say, 'Enough. Now I'm going to quit this Slaying thing and make certain I can get into a good college.

Giles: Well, I don't suppose an hour or so would hurt. I have some things I'd like to research--Angel's in hell, you know. (She gives him a funny look) No, of course, you don't know. Well, just last night Buffy saved the world from being sucked into hell, but, in so doing, she had to send Angelus there, but we think he may have been Angel at the time . . . (A deep shadow of confusion crosses Joyce's face.) Yes, Mrs. Summers, I'll come over tonight and see if I can fill you in on what's been going on around here the last two years. I suppose this conversation is long overdue.

Joyce: Call me Joyce.

Cut to a street in Los Angeles

Buffy walks along the downtown sidewalk. Up ahead a man snatches a purse and runs in Buffy's direction. He approaches Buffy and attempts to push her aside, but she step right in front of him and he goes down like he ran into a brick wall. He collapses to the sidewalk. She picks up the purse and tosses it to the woman who is just then catching up to him.

Woman: Oh, thank you. Are you with the police?

Buffy: The fashion police. Office Summers, here. That purse clashed so badly with his outfit, he had to be stopped. But it doesn't do much for your outfit either. Please learn to accessorize. I'd also suggest you revisit an old friend: your high school art class color wheel. Adios.

Buffy gives her a salute and continues on her way. Whistler follows in the crowd. He is talking on a cell phone.

Cut to the office of Hank Summers.

Hank is seated at his desk with his head buried in his hands. A sob erupts from him but he stifles it. Finally, he looks up, with a pained expression, at the man in front of him.

Hank: And EMS was called? (The man nods.) How long, Mike, before they finally got there?

Mike: Not long. You see, that wasn't the problem. Barry had excellent care in the meantime--one of the doctors who has his practice on the second floor just happened to be passing through the lobby. He immediately started CPR and one of his associates administered a blood thinner--TPA?--to break up the clogs in his heart arteries. He should have made it but, evidently, he's had a chronic condition he never told us about.

Hank: I never had any sense of that. Well, we'll have to meet after lunch in his office. I want to see what he was doing with the Flutie deal. There's so much of our money tied up there, that someone is going to have to pick up the ball fast and ride herd on those people or it can all go sour. I hope Barry kept good contemporaneous records.

Cut to the street outside the office building.

Buffy approaches. As she starts to mount the concrete steps leading to the outside door, she sees Snyder come out of the revolving door, and she immediately hides behind a couple coming down the stairs as Snyder glances furtively around. He skulks away from the entrance. In the general direction he is heading is an ambulance and two EMS personnel are loading a man inside, but they are in no hurry. The man's face is covered with a sheet. Snyder gets into the limo and it pulls away. Buffy has a puzzled look on her face.

Buffy (to herself): Snyder?

- - - - - - - - - - Commercical

Unbecoming1: Out to Lunch (Part 2 of 4)

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