(Part 1 of 4)

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 (from whom all blessings flow) and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB television network. That is also their three sentence Prologue that appears in quotes below.

This is, practically speaking, a fictional transcript of an episode that has never been, nor may ever be, filmed. It may even be 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 Disclaimer, such as the storyline and plot is 1999 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."

A cobblestone street in Germany at night. Across the bottom of the screen appears the words, "Berlin, Germany, April 29, 1945."

It is evening. From a distance the camera follows a military transport truck. Inside are two German SS officers in military caps and dark leather trench coats. They park their truck on a side street and then get out and take a few steps up the dark street. They stop at a curio shop that is lit and open; it has various dolls and items of furniture in the windows. They enter the shop and the door bell jingles to announce them.

One officer has short blond hair, and he hangs back and turns away from the camera, pretending to examine the merchandise, while the other officer, who removes his cap and has dark brown hair, approaches the counter. A kindly-looking shopkeeper appears at the doorway to the back room; he moves some hanging beads aside, and approaches the officer.

Shopkeeper (speaking in German, these are the subtitles): Yes, Captain, may I help you?

Officer with dark hair (subtitled): Yes, Herr Hauptmann, we are here for a certain item of furniture. A full length mirror. We were informed it was for sale at this address.

Shopkeeper (surprised)(subtitled): Oh, I am so sorry, Captain. That particular item was purchased some time this afternoon by another two officers, a Captain Muller and a Lieutenant Stahl. They had the proper papers, I assure you. Look. (as he reaches under the counter, the Captain's hand goes to his pistol, but it is not necessary as the shopkeeper produces only a wrinkled receipt. The officer examines the document and nods.)

Officer with dark hair (subtitled): Very good. I know Captain Muller. I will check with him. Danke.

Shopkeeper (shrugging) (subtitled): Bitte.

The officer turns to go out the door. The other officer follows.

Shopkeeper (subtitled): Ah, Lieutenant?

The blond officer turns. It is Spike in a Nazi SS uniform. The other officer stops at the door.

Spike: Yah?

Shopkeeper (subtitled): If you don't mind me asking, are we, as Minister Goebbels says, now winning the war? Has the Fuhrer really turned the tide?

Spike (turns away from the shopkeeper and whispers in English): He'll never buy my accent. Tell him Hitler and Goebbels are a pair of Jewish sissies and couldn't win a game of tiddlywinks.

Officer with dark hair (clicking his heels together) (subtitled): Our armies are pushing them back on all fronts. The Russians and the English are already arguing--their alliance crumbling. The Russians will never enter Berlin.

The shopkeeper smiles, nods, and waves as they exit the shop.

Cut to outside on the cobblestone street. Spike (beside himself with anger): Bloody Bratwurst Beggars! Today WOULD have to be a bright sunny day in dear old Deutschland.

Dark haired officer: Those papers did not indicate who specifically had purchased the mirror. Something fishy's going on here. I thought Hitler had changed his priorities and was now concentrating all his efforts on finding only those occult relics with a possible use as a weapon. I don't see how this mirror can help him win the war.

Spike: My guess is someone else in Hitler's inner circle, someone privy to this kind of information, wants the mirror. But for what? Well, I've had just about enough of this Nazi hijinx. We better bloody well get out of these uniforms and get our arses out of Germany tonight. The Russians are only five miles out of town. When they show up probably tomorrow, they will not find our antics amusing.

Cut to Hitler's Bunker. It is afternoon. The sign at the Bottom of the screen says, "Earlier that day, Adolph Hitler's Bunker, Berlin, Germany, April 29, 1945."

Heard are the sounds of planes flying overhead, buzz bombs dropping through the air, and ground-shaking explosions. One bomb hits rather close and a cloud of smoke blows past. The above-ground portion of the Bunker seems to be constructed like a squat concrete restroom; it is fortified yet tucked into the Berlin city landscape with apartment buildings in the background. Inside an open door can be seen a staircase that descends immediately to below ground level. Two officers with machine guns stand on either side of the open entrance, the iron door to that entrance having been fully swung outward. From inside, suddenly, a shot rings out and then a ruckus can be heard. The two guards back away and turn and crouch, weapons at the ready. Reaching the top of the stairs, two soldiers emerge from the door and run a few steps, but then the two guards immediately cut them down in a hail of machine-gun fire.

Immediately the sound of truck doors slamming can be heard. German soldiers run in from offscreen and quickly collect the dead men's loose things and then drag the two dead bodies away and around behind the Bunker.

The guards return to their posts. Another wave of bombing ensues with the guards looking up and taking shelter momentarily as aerial bombs land and explode in the general area. A scant few seconds later a truck pulls up outside and then backs up to the Bunker. A German SS officer gets out of the cab and approaches one of the guards. He has a paper in his hand. As he proffers his paper to the guard, we see the tatoo of the SS on the back of his hand. The guard salutes, then examines the paper while the other guard trains his weapon toward the truck.

Captain Muller (subtitled): We have this delivery for Frau Goebbels. An anniversary present from her husband, Minister Joseph Goebbels.

Guard (subtitled): Sir, you'll have to leave it. And you'll have to get this truck out of here quickly (He motions up at the sky, as though to explain.) I'll notify those below and they'll have someone come up for it.

Captain Muller (in English; the word "Dubbed" appears at the bottom of the screen. ): But we were ordered to see that it was delivered in person and in one piece.

Guard (in English; "Dubbed"): Sir, unless you want to spend the rest of the war here in this Bunker, I'd suggest you turn around and leave. We have been given strict orders, as of yesterday, no one in or out.

Captain Muller ("Dubbed"): I see.

Muller motions toward the truck then walks toward it. A bomb goes off nearby and, out of instinct he crouches, then he starts walking again. An instant later the canvas in the back of the truck is pushed aside and two soldiers swing out onto the ground; they lower the tailgate then struggle with a long thin wooden box. Finally, they get it off the truck and onto the ground.

Captain Muller (reaching them, "Dubbed"): Do not make any quick movements. Stand the box up inside the doorway and leave it. Then return to the truck.

The men tip the box and carry it; they stand it in the doorway, while the constantly watchful guards look on. When they finish, the military porters leave and they and the Captain all get back into the truck. It starts up and pulls away. The guard on the left goes half-way into the entrance and picks up a phone hanging on the wall. A bomb goes off outside and he sticks his finger in his ear to hear.

Cut to Inside the Bunker. The sign at the bottom of the screen says, "That night, Inside Adolph Hitler's Bunker, Berlin, Germany, April 29, 1945."

A marriage ceremony is taking place, despite the bombing outside which, every few minutes, resonates within the large room. A little man in a dark suit and slicked-back hair is seated at a desk reading and filling out an application. The camera is well behind the bride and groom, so you cannot tell who they are but certainly the bearing and hair identify the man.

Justice of the Peace (in German, subtitled): I have been asked to perform a War-time marriage ceremony, and therefore we will dispense with the normal requirement to post the Bans of Matrimony. (in English, the word "Dubbed" appears at the bottom of the screen) Okay, (reading from papers) we have Adolph Hitler, born April 20, 1889, in Braunau, Austria, known to us, and therefore not needing papers, and Fraulein Eva Braun, born February 2, 1910, in Munich, Germany, papers examined by me and found to be completely satisfactory.

In the background of the room are several German officers, and standing with his wife is a small, thin, dark-haired man wearing a military uniform (This is Minister of Propaganda Paul Joseph Goebbels; when he walks will do so with a noticeable limp.) He and his wife exchange meaningful glances. Bombs go off periodically shaking the room.

JOP (to Hitler) ("Dubbed"): Are you of pure Aryan origin?

Hitler: Ya.

JOP (to Hitler) ("Dubbed"): Do there exist in your family any cases of hereditary diseases?

Hitler: Nein.

As the JOP asks these questions of Fraulein Braun, Frau Goebbels leans over to Joseph and whispers.

Frau Magda Goebbels ("Dubbed"): This idea scares me, Paul. Will it be safe? What will happen to us?

Joseph Goebbels ("Dubbed"): I don't know, dear. But what does it matter? We have no choice. We either step into the mirror or we must poison our six children. There IS no choice.

She furrows her brow in exasperation.

JOP ("Dubbed"): Will you, Adolph Hitler, take Eva Braun as your lawfully wedded wife?

Fade out.

Cut to modern day, a rather large and elaborately-furnished antique shop. The camera tracks up and down aisles and stops at a door marked "RECEIVING." The sign at the bottom of the screen says, "Recent time, 1999, Los Angeles, California."

Cut to a fog-filled area, amorphous without definition.

The cracking and snapping of a wooden crate is heard. In this open place filled with a grey miasma, the camera dips down to the floor and discovers that the Goebbels family (five children) sleeps sprawled out there in suspended animation. Light enters and shines on the faces of the sleepers. A loud noise startles Goebbels and his eyes open wide; his wife Magda stirs beside him.

Cut to a warehouse storage area of the antique shop.

In the background a lettered sign hangs on an artist's frame; it reads, "The Schicklgruber Collection." An ornate mirror stands upright amidst its partially-removed wooden crating. Two workers in coveralls depart as a cleaning girl, who reminds one of Willow, drags the crating material out of the way and then picks it up and drops it into a large cardboard barrel. She then picks up a dust cloth and quickly dusts the back of the mirror and then she goes around to the front. The mirror has a purplish cast. She picks up another rag and she grabs a bottle of Windex and, spritzing the mirror up high, she begins to wipe it down.

Suddenly she falls forward (her arms to her elbows actually go into the mirror and disappear.) She is both stunned and terrified and she pulls back somewhat, but then in the next second she is physically jerked forward. During the ensuing struggle, phantom arms actually extend out of the mirror for an instant and are seen to be gripping her, then they pull her forward and in. She is literally pulled off her feet and she disappears fully into the mirror. Three beats later a German girl of just about the same height and weight steps out of the mirror. She looks very relieved and places her left hand behind her head and her right hand on her breast and smiles inwardly to herself. Then she looks around and she walks away with a determined look on her face.

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

[Editor's note: Maverick's Fanfic differs slightly from the Buffyverse. Before you get too far along, you might want to see HOW

- - - - - - - - - Commercial

The sign on the richly-grained, carved, heavy wooden door says: "Los Angeles Psychiatriac Associates, P.C."Across the bottom of the screen it says "Los Angeles, California, Six months previous, 1999."

The camera tracks through the door and ends up behind two maroon, plushly-padded, high-backed leather chairs. Between the two chairs can be seen a large wooden desk with a little man seated behind it. The diminutive man has blonde hair and thus looks very young, but the sign on the Desk says, Dr. Lance Benton, M.D. The camera stays well back, behind the chairs.

Benton: Thanks very much Mr. and Mrs. Summers for stopping by on such short notice. It just so happened that we had a last minute cancellation--I understand the poor man met with an unfortunate accident. So, it was lucky you called when you did and we could fit you in. Now, how can I help?

Suddenly one of the occupants of the two chairs leans over toward the other. It is Druscilla. She puts her hand up to her face and talks behind it. Miss Edith is forced out over the arm of the chair.

Dru: Rather tasty way to move up our appointment, eh, Love. And this one is a morsel, too. Can I have him when we're done here?

The camera comes around to Spike who is exasperated but patient.

Spike (leans over to meet her, takes her hand and kisses it, then he whispers behind it): Give it a rest, Pet. Let's just talk to the nice man.

Dru nods petulantly and takes back her hand.

Spike: Well, Doctor, my wife and I have always had a bit of a turbulent relationship--spices it up a bit, if you catch my drift. And she's ALWAYS been a cracky little bird (he points at his head and spins his finger)--I find it immensely charming--but up to a few months ago she's been rather ill and therefore, at least, a demure lass; lately, however, my Druscilla has all but recovered from her illness and so she's gotten stronger and, I guess you might say, wilder--perhaps more than I can handle. I was wondering if perhaps you could talk with her.

Benton: Well, okay, but could you give me some idea of what you think we ought to talk about?

Spike: What do you and the birds usually talk about?

Benton: Well, with the birds, as you say, we usually talk about how they got along with their fathers?

Spike (nodding): Okay, that's a good start, but I don't think at this point she much remembers her old man. The problem I'd say is with Angelus. (He looks over at Dru for confirmation, but she is cradling Miss Edith.)

Benton: And Angelus is?

Dru (coming suddenly alert): My sire, sir.

Benton: (breathlessly) A horse? (suddenly smiling brightly) Ahhh, I've been waiting for a case like this. Is your situation anything like in the movie "Equus?"

Dru (distracted, interrupting): Miss Edith would like to get in line for ice cream. First come, first serve, you know.

Spike: Quiet, Pet.

Benton: Miss Edith? Is that another horse?

Spike: No, her doll, there (indicating), is Miss Edith. And we are not talking about horses, here. Forget the horses. (He crosses his forearms and pulls them apart in a nix sign) No horses. Okay, I'll grant you Angelus IS a horse's arse. But no horses. See, we're from England, and when she refers to her sire, she's talking about the person who made her.

Benton (interrupting): Like an advisor? (Spike shakes his head) A coach? (Shakes his head) How about like a stepfather?

Spike (nodding): Yeah, more like a stepfather, I'd say. And, before, when I was saying he made her, I was going to finish that by saying that he made her CRAZY.

Benton (picks up a pencil): Crazy. Crazy? I'm sorry, I don't believe I'm acquainted with that term. (Spike rolls his eyes to the ceiling) We, in the field of psychiatry, usually refer to that very same condition as simply being out of her cotton-picking tree. (Spike smirks) A little psychiatric humor, there? (Spike looks bored. Benton getting back to business.) Okay, I guess very little. And you say this man's name is Angelus?

Spike: Yes.

Benton: An odd name. But, now we're getting somewhere. (pencil poised) Last name?

Spike: I don't know. O'Hara, I believe. Maybe O'Sullivan. Something Irish like that. (He looks over at Dru for confirmation--she is distracted.)

Benton (writing): Angelus O'Hara. (looks up) And (he asks, in a way that he may hopefully be contradicted) this is not a sexual matter? (He asks expectantly) We're not talking incest here?

Spike: Well, perhaps (Benton smiles broadly once again) but forget that part. You see, she was daft long before that. (Benton frowns) She was traumatized as a young girl.

Benton: Well, it couldn't have been THAT long ago. She's still just a girl. (To Druscilla) How old are you child?

Druscilla (smirking): Miss Edith says I'm old enough to know better.

Benton (back to Spike): What kind of trauma?

Spike: Her dad and mum and the rest of her family were killed.

Benton: Oh, my. Okay, and do we know who killed them?

Spike: This Angelus man.

Benton: I see. So, this Mr. O'Hara must be one bad actor.

Spike: I agree.

Druscilla (interrupting): Miss Edith says he can't be that bad--he's getting his own show.

Spike (to Druscilla): Hush, Pet. (to Benton) She goes in and out like that. Her mind can be here one moment and off on holiday the next.

Benton: Understandable considering how this Mr. O'Hara has tormented her. But what of the police? Has Mr. O'Hara ever been arrested for his crimes?

Spike: Well, up to a month ago I'd have said no. But now, at last, he HAS been sent away. Druscilla is finally free of his bad influences which is why I'd like to see if someone in your profession can help her. Perhaps you could evaluate her conditon and give us an estimate.

Benton: Well, this is not exactly a bump shop, Mr. Summers. But, I'll do my best. So, this Mr. O'Hara is in jail?

Spike: Let's just say he's been sent away, not to return. Good riddance.

Benton: Well, that's something anyway. Perhaps the healing CAN now begin. Okay, let me talk to Druscilla alone for a while. Would you mind stepping out into our waiting room while the Missus and I have a chat.

Spike: Fine. (He rises and looks over at Druscilla) I'll be right outside the door, Pet. (He looks warily over at Druscilla, but she has turned her doll upside down and is examining its panties. He shrugs and rises.)

Spike walks to the door. He turns to look back.

Spike (to Benton): And ask her to talk about the children. She's always after the children.

Then he goes through the door. Once Spike is out of the room, Benton seems to relax and leans back in his chair.

Benton: The old man can't keep up with you anymore, eh? Do you want children and he can't deliver?

Druscilla: What old man? Miss Edith doesn't see any old man.

Benton: No, I was referring to Mr. Summers--William.

Druscilla: Oh, THAT old man--you mean Spike? He likes to call himself Spike. Makes him feel rough and tough, but my child is just a big softy. He's mummy Dru's little man. Except when he has the hots for that Slayer. I hate that little slut.

Benton: I'm sorry, who are we talking about now?

Druscilla: Spikey, the Psyche. Spiko the Psycho. What did you have for lunch?

Benton: Well, let's see. I had a tuna fish salad sandwich. Why do you ask?

Druscilla: Just wondering what your blood would taste like. Tuna is very tasty, and salty.

Benton: Such morbid talk. What does Miss Edith do for a living?

Druscilla: I'm afraid she just sponges off her mum. At one time she wanted to be a fireman--fireperson, though, sir.

Benton: And what happened that she was stopped from becoming a fireperson?

Druscilla: She was afraid of those dogs with the spots, and then there was . . . the evil man.

Benton: Dalmatians? And what did this evil man do?

Druscilla: Well, she was very young and trusting and she needed to be held and loved and bear his children and he mocked her desires.

Benton: That's wasn't very nice.

Druscilla: No, it wasn't, was it?

Benton: But other girls have suffered far worse, don't you think?

Druscilla: Have they, sir? Well, then perhaps I should meet them. We could kill a few of these dastardly men together.

Benton: Such talk! Trying to kill all men won't solve the problem. Can't be done. They're making more of them even as we speak. And, anyway, Miss Edith's problem is just with the one man. Right?

Druscilla: I suppose.

Benton: And how could we make it right? If Miss Edith could have any wish come true, what would she wish for?

Druscilla: She would wish for world peace and universal good will towards men.

Benton (smiling): Our Miss Edith? Are we talking about the same person? Short? Doll's clothes? Has a mother named Druscilla? Is that what SHE would wish for?

Druscilla: Okay, no, THAT wish came from a girly-girl in a beauty pagent we watched on the telly. Our Miss Edith would wish that Angelus would cherish her and want to be with her always.

Cut to the waiting room.

Spike is at the intercom system, listening. The voice of Druscilla can be heard coming out of it and she repeats "would wish that Angelus would cherish her and want to be with her always." He grimaces and becomes vamp-browed. He looks down and there on the floor behind her desk is the receptionist with bite marks at her throat.

Cut back to Benton's office.

Benton: Does she really? But didn't this bad man kill her family and mock her as she bloomed into a woman?

Druscilla: Yes, I suppose he did sir, but the world is a cruel place. Sometimes you get in line for ice cream and they run out long before it's your turn.

Benton: But, perhaps if Miss Edith allowed herself to hate the evil man . . . Perhaps if she could accept that his whole purpose is to do her harm, then she could break away from desiring a relationship with him. Sometimes we can't have what we want the most.

Cut back to the waiting room.

Spike is leafing through papers and appointment books, but, when he hears Benton say, "Sometimes we can't have what we want the most," he picks up a stapler and matter-of-factly smashes the intercom in a calm fit of rage. Then he strides back to the door.

Cut back to Benton's office.

Spike comes barging through the door. The doctor rises; he's not very tall.

Spike: Okay, Dru, ready to go?

Druscilla: Sure. (does a head jerking indication toward Benton) Can I . . .?

Spike: By all means, but make it quick. At his rates we can't afford to tarry.

Druscilla becomes vamp-browed and rushes toward the doctor.

Spike (to the cowering Benton): I thought I told you to ask her about the children. She's got a problem with the bloody children.

Cut to London. The sign at the bottom of the screen say, "London, England, 1863."

Inside the cozy home, a table is spread for a party. There is a large cake with white frosting on the table and there's writing on the cake and 5 candles placed in a circle. A lady is fussing over some last minute details, moving some plates and silverware around on the table. She hears the door close, and rushes to her entranceway. It is already night outside.

The woman looks through a narrow window that's next to the door and then, seeing nothing, pokes her head out the door. A child with a limping gait walks down the walkway of a landscaped yard; she is headed toward the street.

Lady: Maggy, now don't go far.

Margaret (the child of five, turns): I won't, mum.

Lady: Your father will be home from work soon and the neighbors are going to come over right afterwards. Don't get dirty. I want you to stay clean for your party.

Margaret: Yes, mum. I won't go far.

Lady: Who loves you, Maggy?

Margaret: You do, mum.

Lady: That's right, honey. Don't forget.

At the street, in the light coming from the oil-burning street lights, the lady can see Druscilla, carelessly carrying Miss Edith by her side, walking on the sidewalk. The lady shrugs and goes back inside.

Cut to outside.

Druscilla is walking along carrying Ms. Edith, and little Margaret tries to keep up alongside her, but she is hampered by her limp. She has a heavy wooden brace on her left leg.

Druscilla (twisting away from the girl): Begone child, you can't play with Miss Edith. She has the sniffles. You don't want to catch a cold, do you?

Margaret: No, ma'am. But, I just wanted to see her. I'm supposed to get a new dolly today, and I'll bet mine will be every bit as nice.

Druscilla (mockingly): Impossible, you horrid little urchin. Miss Edith is not just an ordinary doll. She was once a real girl and may be once again. I'm keeping her safe while the doctors ponder her strange case. They can sometimes work wonders in these matters.

Margaret: Really? But, let me see her, please.

Druscilla: Well, then, let me ask her if she wants to be seen.

Margaret (falling behind): Ask her "pretty-please."

Druscilla (continues to walk, approaches a building with a flight of outside stairs; it has a dark recess beneath the stairs): (pausing, pretends to be hearing a voice) Oh, well, okay, then. (to the girl) Miss Edith said "yes," so I guess you can have a peek, but only just a peek. Evidently, the "pretty" in your "pretty-please" was the clincher that did it. Come see, girlie, but not in these harsh street lights. Come over here under these steps.

Margaret (hobbling toward the stairs): Here I come.

Cut back to inside the house. The lady in the house is in the kitchen, checking on a roast cooking in her oven. She hears the knocker at her front door. Scurrying to it, she opens the door to find her female neighbor standing there with a concerned look on her face.

Lady: Rachel, hello, what is is? (The neighbor pauses, looks down, sighs, gathers herself.) Maggy? Is it my Maggy?

She looks up to see two men approaching; one is carrying the girl. The lady runs down the steps and up the yard to meet the men.

Lady: What has happened? Will she be all right?

Man: No, ma'am, I'm afraid there's very bad news. There appears to be no hope. And we don't know yet what happened to her.

Other man: We found her under the stairs at the Mulrooney house. The only other person around at the time was a certain young woman that must live around here somewhere; she has been seen several times in this neighborhood. You may have seen her yourself--she always carrys a doll. But the young lady in question was some distance away when we found your girl.

Lady (in disbelief): You mean my Maggy is dead?

Man: Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. We'd better go inside and sit down. Where's your husband?

Lady: But she can't be. Today is her birthday. We've got a cake and she's got to make a wish and blow out her candles. And we've gotten her a new store-bought doll.

Man: Let's go inside, ma'am. Rachel, help her inside.

Screen fades out.

Screen fades back in.

Cut to the living room of the house.

The mother is distraught and her tears flow freely; she leans over the body of her little child. She lovingly removes the intricate wooden brace from the girl's leg.

Lady (to the dead girl, through her tears): You won't be needing this any more, honey. I'm sorry you had to wear it in the first place. I didn't give you much of a life, now, did I? I'm surprised you loved me but I know that you did.

The father sits close and watches the two. He goes to place his hand on his wife's shoulder, but the mother rises suddenly, startling him, and he pulls back. She, on the other hand, straighten, and, carrying the brace, she walks resolutely away from her dead daughter and out of the room. The father watches her go, puzzled, but then he pulls his chair closer to his daughter and he reaches out and touches the little girl's arm. He sighs deeply.

Cut to the kitchen.

The mother enters the kitchen, and there, still on the kitchen table, is the white, frosted Birthday Cake with the five unlit candles. The inscription, "Happy Birthday, Maggy," is written across the top in fancy cursive script. The mother looks at the cake and a new supply of tears fills her eyes and runs down her cheek. She sets her child's brace on the table. Crossing the room to a cabinet, she opens it and removes a long, thin-wicked candle and she goes over to the stove. She opens a hood and inserts the candle till it is lit, then she withdraws it, closing the hood. She goes over and lights each of the five candles on the birthday cake. She shakes out the candle in her hand, sets it aside, and then stares again at the cake. Taking the brace off the table, she sits down on a chair and she cradles the brace in her arms like a baby.

Lady (near whisper): As God as my witness, I wish to make the Birthday wish that my Maggy cannot make. I wish to God that, if that girl with the doll was in any way responsible for my Maggy's death, as I have a feeling she was--now, God, forgive me for this, but to exact a mother's revenge, I wish that HER first child shall, in some way, be born with a deformity, as my Maggy was, but, God forbid, I don't want MY wish to be the cause of any pain for the child. Now, Maggy's defect made the love between us all the more special. So, but what I don't want is for this child molester to be rewarded with this kind of love and devotion from HER child. I want this woman punished, so I want the love between her and her defective child to be of such an unnatural nature so as to be a burden on the child and, as such, a further burden on the mother. It should be a desperate kind of love, almost suffocating to both of them. I wish this in Christ's name, Amen.

With her "incantation" complete the lady blows on the candles. To her surprise the small flames resist immediately going out. Rather, it seems, she somehow manages to blow all the flames together and they merge into one single fireball and this ball of fire rises unexpectedly up from the candles, leaving them extinguished behind it. Then the weird combined flame hovers above the table, then swirls in the air high in the kitchen, and finally it rises up as far as it can go and it disappears through the ceiling.

Cut to another house. Druscilla is sitting in a chair and she occupies herself fussing with Miss Edith. Angelus storms through the room vamp-browed and wearing an elaborately collared shirt of the period, and Druscilla looks up briefly and watches him disappear into the next room. Just as he exits, however, a strange light appears in the room above her. She look up to witness the combined flame arriving from the other household across town and it descends from the ceiling and swirls in the air high in the room; the flame does one single loop in the air and then suddenly it darts straight at her and Druscilla covers her face but it instead dives directly into Druscilla's stomach. At its entry, she lurches violently in her chair like she has just been disembowled, and her face contorts with the pain.

Dru (screaming): Aaaah!

Angelus (reentering the room): What afflicts you, chattel girl?

Dru (recovering): Nothing, sire. My stomach troubled me violently for a second but, methinks, it feels all right once again.

Angelus (approaches her): Well, see that it does. You're not to be sick. You won't do as a sickly millstone around my neck.

Dru: Miss Edith and I won't be any bother.

Angelus: See that you aren't.

Dru: Yes, sire.

Angelus (seemingly concerned): Have you eaten yet today?

Dru: Yes, I have, but Miss Edith is still hungry.

Angelus (suddenly he hauls back and slaps her): Quit talking such nonsense, like that doll is alive, or I'll cut you loose to fend for yourself. (He pauses, thinking) And I trust you were careful with your feeding this evening. We don't want any more angry parents following you home.

Druscilla (tearing, defensively): Yes, sire. I was careful. And, it's just as you say. I stand corrected, sire. You're absolutely right and I was wrong. Miss Edith is not hungry at all.

Angelus: That's much better. Now, come lovingly to your sire.

Druscilla (confused, but then her whole demeanor seems to change and her lips curl into a smile): Yes, sire. Will you be rough, sire?

Angelus: If it suits me.

Druscilla: Let it suit you, sire.

Cut to London 1865. The sign across the bottom of the screen says, "London, England, 1865."

A saloon in a working class neighborhood. Druscilla and Angelus come sweeping through the door and into the room. Their expensive clothes and expansive manner are finer than those of the other customers. The owner seats them at a table near the fireplace. Behind them is a bar at which patrons are seated.

Cut to a table facing Druscilla and Angelus.

A group of locals are drinking and they watch the two richly-adorned vampires enter in such a grand manner and they snicker among themselves. A familiar blond-headed personage has his back to the camera.

Jocko (short, rail thin): Ahem. It appears as though we are now in the presence of royalty. Please rise.

Harry (an enormous, muscular man): Oh, isn't she a looker? Now, I'd rise, as you say, but I've already risen and I'm afraid I might embarrass myself.

Jocko: And her companion has such a smug look. He looks like he just farted and is wondering if anyone smells it.

Gabby (short, fat, out of shape): I do. And, unless I miss my guess, he had bacon and eggs for breakfast. (He sniffs the air.) And, I believe, ah yes, I detect sausages, too.

Harry : And the harlot? What did she have?

Billy (to be known years later as Spike): Don't get crude now, mates. It's not her fault she's gorgeous.

Jocko: Yes, she does have her good points. Two, sticking right out front here. (He makes a hooter-holding gesture.)

Harry (looking over Dru's shoulder, he sees another large man standing at the bar. The two men exchange wry smiles.): You think maybe she'd show them to us? (he rises)

Billy: Sit down, Harry. There's no need to . . .

Harry (looks over at Druscilla, talks loudly): Okay, Missy, I know you must think your finely-dressed, ascotted, pansy boy there is quite the lady's man, but have a gander at a real man here. (He jabs his thumb back into his chest). I'll bet, just looking at me, you are starting to get this warm, wet, wonderful feeling between your toes.

Angelus rises.

Druscilla: Whatever do you mean, sir? My toes? Warm, wet?

Harry: Yes, ma'am, looking at me. Getting a feeling. Warm, wet and wonderful. Between your toes. Between your BIG toes, that is.

Druscilla: Oh, sir, what a horribly vulgar remark.

Angelus: Yes, it certainly was not a decent thing to say to a young lady. I'd appreciate your immediate apology, sir, and we'll overlook your crudity as merely the talk of the grog.

Gabby (standing): Well, the grog has another voice. Here, let's have a look at her knickers.

Billy (rising, to his friends): Mates, mates. There's plenty of other women we can go see tonight. Let's go visit Lady Constance and the girls. I think that new girl Bev has a thing for you, Harry. Maybe she's blind and even Jocko has a chance.

Harry: Butt out, Billy. No, there's something about THIS lady that has caught my fancy. Maybe it's the fact that I may have to go through pansy boy there to get to her.

Angelus: Fine. Come through me. Let's take it outside, though. I don't think you'll be able to pay the owner for the damage to all the tables I'll have to smash over your fat head.

Harry (somewhat taken aback by Angelus's confidence despite the difference in their sizes; Harry is much taller and broader than Angelus): Okay, outside it is. And as far as I am concerned the Marquis de Queensbury was never born.

Angelus: All right, then, no holds barred. I can oblige you.

Druscilla (oblivious of what's going on, whispers to Angelus): Can we go now? I'm not feeling well.

Angelus (whispers back): I don't think we can leave just this moment.

Druscilla (whispers): The blond boy is cute.

Angelus (smiles, whispers): Should I be jealous?

Druscilla (whispers): Would it suit you, sire?

Suddenly a chair is smashed over Angelus's head from behind. It was the man from the bar. Angelus falls to the floor. People rise and back away, giving the man plenty of other chairs to grab. Harry rushes over and grabs Druscilla by the arm. The man from the bar is descending down on Angelus with another chair when Billy moves forward and blocks the chair's full impact from hitting Angelus.

Billy: Come on, mates. You're really going to hurt someone here.

Billy pulls the chair away from the man and sets it down.

Harry: That's the idea, Billy, to hurt someone.

Billy: Let the girl go.

Gabby (coming up behind Billy, whispers): Leave it alone, Billy. You want to have your job loading ships again tomorrow, right?

Billy (turning to Gabby): Not with a rapist. There's other girls; let him find one that's willing. This doesn't have to be.

Angelus springs off the floor and hits Harry with his shoulder knocking him and Druscilla to the ground. Harry grapples with Angelus. Billy helps Druscilla up but is attacked from behind by the man from the bar who throws a rope around Billy's neck and tightens it. Billy's eyes bulge and he gasps for breath. Druscilla steps forward, and, with her long fingernails, she goes for the man's eyes. He backs away and trips backwards over Harry and Angelus who were rolling toward him.

Billy is released and removes the rope. He looks over at Gabby who thinks for a second then turns and leaves, and then Billy looks over at the man from the bar who is rising. The man lunges at him and he sidesteps the lunge like a matador and uses his foot to propel the man further across the room. Billy then picks up a chair and follow the man to where he falls and he smashes the chair over his head.

Angelus, in the meantime, rises finally, and Harry tries to grab him, but with an enormous feat of raw strength, Angelus lifts Harry off the ground and flings him onto a table splintering it. The table collapses to the ground. Harry rolls over, gets to his feet, looks back fearfully and runs out.

Billy and Angelus both converge on Druscilla who looks no worse for wear. She smiles but then unaccountably she swoons and is about to fall when Billy catches her from behind. Angelus brings a chair and Billy seats Druscilla who looks up slyly and winks at Angelus.

Angelus: Thank for your help, young sir. What is your name?

Billy: Billy, Billy Bonham, sir. I must appologize for my so-called friends.

Angelus: Well, thank you, Billy, for your help. Do you think you could get the lady a drink of water?

Billy: Certainly, . . .

Angelus: Angelus, my name's Angelus, and this is my ward Druscilla. Give the owner this for his damage. (he pulls out a couple of large coins and hands them over).

Druscilla: Thank you ever so much, Master Bonham.

Billy kind of bows and then walks over toward the bar where the regulars have resumed their normal drinking. People are picking up the tables and chairs.

Cut to outside as the three of them exit. Druscilla swoons again and Angelus catches her this time.

Angelus: I think she'll be all right. Please check to see if our carriage is ready to go on.

Billy leaves toward the carriage.

Druscilla (looking up at Angelus): I just saw a glimpse of our future; it flashed right before my eyes. This blond one is going to be my companion for ever and ever. Miss Edith (Angelus's eyes narrow) will not come around as much if I have this one to play with. Will you make him one of us? For me?

Angelus: Why not? I could use someone else to watch out for you. And I do need to spend more time with Darla. But, no, Druscilla, I won't make him. YOU can make him. This will be your first. You just drain him quickly and then before he is gone, offer him some of your blood. Make him drink fully and deeply. He will be your first born.

Druscilla: Oh, how delicious that sounds.

Cut to the inside of the carriage as it is moving.Angelus is on one side of the carriage, seemingly nodding off. Billy and Druscilla are on the other.

Billy (whispers): Thanks for offering to drop me off. I don't live very far.

Druscilla (whispering): Oh, kind sir, it was the least we could do. Would I seem forward to you if I were to kiss you on the cheek for your gallant, chivalrous assistance?

Billy (whispers): No, ma'am. My cheek is at your disposal. I just wish I had done something really worthy of such a valuable reward.

He checks out Angelus, and then he points at his cheek. When she moves closer he suddenly turns, surprising her, and gives her a peck on the lips, but HE is the one who is surprised because he has kissed her after she has taken on her vamp-browed look. He pulls back, but Angelus is there to trap him. Billy struggles but Druscilla goes immediately for his neck. Billy relaxes.

Angelus: Now, your mind will join his, co-mingle for a few seconds during which time you will, as usual, experience aspects of his life, but then, suddenly when you feel him slipping away from you, when his soul is, in fact, leaving his body--that is the time to offer him your blood. Here. (Angelus pull a knife out of his boot and takes Druscilla's hand. He cuts into the fleshy part of her palm below the thumb; then he squeezes it until the blood flows.) Give him this when he is ready. Do you feel him?p> Druscilla pulls away. She shakes her head. She continues to feed on him. Then she stops.

Druscilla: I felt my mind merge with his and then I began to actually experience a few minutes of his life, what it is like to be him--he works very hard lifting heavy crates on a dock--and then I felt his life trying to pull away from me, just out of reach.

Angelus (excited): That's it. That's it. Feed him now. Make him suck on it.

Druscilla presents Billy her bloody palm and rubs it on his mouth. At first he does not react, then suddenly his tongue flicks out and licks his lips and then around them, and Angelus squeezes her palm and the blood flows freer and Billy laps it up and begins to suck.

Angelus: That's it, Druscilla. You have just done it. Congratulations. You have just given birth. Oh, I wish I had a cigar.

Angelus finishes his declaration and leans back into his seat. Suddenly, though, the entire interior of the carriage is bathed in an eerie light and then both Druscilla and Billy begin to shake and then just as suddenly the light disappears and the odd shaking stops.

Angelus: That was strange. (dismissing) But, no matter. When we arrive home tonight, we will lay him safely away and he will sleep the day as though dead and then tonight he will rise and you will have your very own new play toy.

Druscilla: Oh, goody.

Cut to Buffy's kitchen. The sign at the bottom of the screen says "Sunnydale, Present Day."

Joyce is reading the paper as Buffy bounces into the room. There is a breakfast plate ready for Buffy, with scrambled eggs and sausages on it, but the food is piled way high and there seems way too many for her.

Buffy (eyeing all the food): Morning. What's up in the world? (indicating the paper)

Joyce: Oh, I only read the comics, anymore. With your slaying and all, I get enough gruesome news.

Buffy (looking over at Joyce's plate which is empty): Mom, can I ask, are you trying to turn me into Porky, the Vampire Slayer?

Joyce (lowering the paper, she does not look well): Well, eat what you can. I gave you some of mine. I'm not feeling well.

Buffy (concerned): Yeah, I can see. Flu?

Joyce: I'm not quite . . . (she suddenly gets a look of panic on her face).

Joyce throws the paper down and runs out of the room.

Cut to a camera angle behind and below the toilet bowl.

Joyce can be seen running into the bathroom, throwing herself on the floor, and then raising the toilet seat just in time, and, although the angle prevents us from seeing the chunks we can hear the sound, as she heaves into the bowl.

She turns away as she raises up and grabs a tissue and wipes her mouth, but then turns back and looks down at the camera with a mixed look of surprise and fear.

She gets up, locks the door and then fishes around in the bottom of the clothes hamper. Finally she pulls out a box labeled E.P.T.

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Spike & Dru, A Love Story 1: Demonstration (Part 2 of 4)

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