Act III, Scene I

Melissa and Cordelia are walking through town. Melissa is carrying the case that Cordelia so recently invaded with her; but it's her appearance that should grab our attention, not her accessories. Obviously we've missed a major makeover session. She looks like a Cordelia Mini-Me, sporting designer clothes from sculptured heel to plunging neck, capped off with a pair of elegant, simple shades.

MELISSA: (falsetto) Oh Cordelia – men keep staring at me – am I really so ugly?

CORDELIA: Why my friend, it is because you are so fair that they stare!

Melissa brings a dramatic hand to her temple.

MELISSA: Oh, can it be…?!

She breaks into a fit of giggles with Cordelia, neither able to sustain the deadpan expressions any longer.

CORDELIA: Hey, feel free to use that one. In your stories. Fair, stare…

MELISSA: (diplomatically) I'll, ah, be sure to remember it. Look at us! Look at me! Look at the guys! Men are such freaks, I swear. If I was walking along naked, they wouldn't give me a seco…(she rethinks) a third glance.

CORDELIA: Pshaw! Men! More substance in a Chicken McNugget.

MELISSA: So shallow!

CORDELIA: OhmyGod! Shoes!

She squeals with excitement and darts into the nearest store, followed a heartbeat later by Mel, clearly thrown in at the deep end but having a hell of a good time drowning…an instant later, though, both re-emerge, Cordelia fairly manhandling Melissa back to the sidewalk. Melissa is struggling mightily to go back inside.

CORDELIA: No! We (she grunts with effort) have…an…appointment!

MELISSA: Just an hour or two. Please. I've never 'browsed' before. I want to annoy the assistant. I want to be obnoxious about the range he has. I want to pretend I don't speak English. I want to make bitchy comments about the women shopping in the bargains section. Then I want to change my mind and walk out with a shoelace. Oh God, please…

CORDELIA: (hypnotically) Okay…no! No! This is your future we're talking about! Anne said this guy had some serious contacts, remember? You're not gonna jeopardise this chance to get your talent recognised, hear me? Maybe get a foothold at a shot at a really good life…and besides, we're coming right back here afterward.

Melissa relaxes.

MELISSA: Oh, OK. After lunch, right?

Cordelia gives one of her trademark 'pleeeease!' snorts as they resume walking.

CORDELIA: Shopping on empty? Are you nuts?

They laugh. We sense a growing affection between the two; what Wesley said right at the very beginning to Cordelia is coming to pass – having young people around is having a positive effect on Cordelia, reminding her of less complicated days and giving her a companion in the form of Melissa, someone whom she can unwind with in her own patented ways…

Act III, Scene II

We quickly see Angel and Jules training, before cutting to the hotel's reception area, where Gunn is speaking on the phone and Wesley is engaged in another one of his nondescript filing tasks.

GUNN: …look, just don't touch 'em, OK? I'll be right over – (puts down phone) – Wes, man, I gotta dive down to Vince's place; he just got hold of more anti-vamp guns, and I want to be there to stop him gettin' any ideas about going in early.

WESLEY: He wouldn't be that rash, surely?

GUNN: This guy's idea of a surgical strike would be camouflaged flamethrowers. You coming?

WESLEY: Me?

GUNN: Yep. We need the best out there.

His frank praise brings a slight smile to Wesley.

WESLEY: Er, no, no. I'll stay here, hold the fort.

GUNN: (nods) Whatever. Later…

As he leaves, we cut back down to the training room. Jules and Angel are sparring, quite intensely. Their outfits (all in black) are identical, and their fighting styles very similar, but there's a world of difference in their expressions. Angel wears a mask of grim concentration, whereas Jules has more of an air of someone who is relishing the contest, and the heat of the moment.

ANGEL: Don't let emotions surface when you're fighting.

JULES: What's the point of having a soul if you're afraid to show it?

ANGEL: Souls don't bestow or take away the capability for emotion, Jules. Look at vampires; they can hate, they can fear, they can even love each other…in a way.

They are still sparring. Jules forces Angel to retreat across the room in a series of dodging leaps, until Angel uses the hanging punchbag to counter the attack, resuming the ebb and flow of the stalemate.

JULES: So what's the deal with a soul?

ANGEL: Souls aren't the capability. Souls are the motivation. It's like adding colour. Suddenly everything has depth. A soul gives a thing a meaning, a purpose, beyond simple survival or pleasure, beyond the thing itself. Show too much of what you care about to your opponent and you're that much closer to revealing your – hey, Mel…

Jules half-turns instinctively…and is sprawling on his back in a moment later. He gets to his feet, shaking his head ruefully.

ANGEL: …weakness.

JULES: (winces a little) Point taken.

ANGEL: How are you two?

Jules reddens at once. Given the natural pallor of a vampire, it's like he's wearing a lighthouse for a hat.

JULES: …fine…hey, ah, can I have a toilet break?

ANGEL: (dully) A toilet break.

JULES: Yeah.

ANGEL: You're a vampire.

JULES: And? Wait a-you're not saying we don't have to-

ANGEL: Well, have you-since you were-?

Jules mulls it over.

JULES: Actually no, but…where does all the blood go? Come to think of it, maybe that's why we don't…I mean, never mind the pale skin and the lack of reflection, that'd be a fairly obvious giveaway, huh?

ANGEL: (puzzled) What would?

JULES: Well, it'd be red, wouldn't it? We'd put the fear of God into guys standing next to us in the john. It must be handy, for the heroic champion thing, never having to worry about dashing off for a leak.

ANGEL: Oh yeah. Makes the super strength and the immortality seem like an afterthought. Getting back to the point…you and Mel?

We cut back upstairs to reception. Wesley leans on the desk, his filing task complete, and his chin resting in his hand. He looks deeply bored, and a little annoyed with himself too.

WESLEY: "I'll hold the fort"…yes, heaven forbid I should leave it with only the two vampire warriors to protect it; idiot.

He sulks at himself for a moment.

WESLEY: "You're here with Mel, stay here and stay low." Who was it who took on the demon hordes last year when you-

The phone rings next to him, almost causing him to slam his chin into the desk as he reaches desperately for it. He composes himself and fairly snatches it from the cradle.

WESLEY: Angel Investigations: We Help The Hopeless. How can-

He stops, the hopeful expression plummeting from his face…along with the colour.

WESLEY: Grayson. Yes, a long time. No, I wouldn't say too long. Really? And what makes you think I have the slightest possible inclination to meet you?

His mouth tightens.

WESLEY: I'm on my way.

Act III, Scene III

Devasson sits in a very different office to the luxurious model we last saw him in at Wolfram & Hart. This is a tiny, modestly furnished room with no amenities save a water cooler which looks as if it could possibly be the prototype model, and an old television and video. The walls, however, are covered in 'motivational' posters and paraphernalia from his phony charity, the Junior Uplift Charity Association. Typically, he's on the phone.

DEVASSON: Yes, liquidise. Only if you have to. Or if you feel like it, we're nothing if not flexible (he laughs) but don't screw up this time or I'll rip out your lungs and make sandcastles out of them. Ciao!

He replaces the phone as the door to his office is knocked, and opened a second later by his secretary, with Melissa and Cordelia in tow.

DEVASSON: Kim, show the lovely ladies in!

KIM: Yes, Mr. Devasson, sir.

DEVASSON: You take off, Kim, go see the kids. I'll handle any calls. Full pay, before you ask.

He winks at her as Cordelia and Melissa sit down amidst this. Kim nods and murmurs her thanks, leaving Devasson alone and with the chance to unleash his best smiles, which he does with relish while shaking his visitors' hands.

DEVASSON: I'm tempted to ask which one of you is Melissa, but (he nods to the case Mel is holding rather protectively) it's fairly evident.

Cordelia laughs a tad too loudly at this comment, obviously a little dazzled by his style, smile, and smarm. To her credit, Melissa remains fairly impassive.

CORDELIA: She's our little Pagemaster!

DEVASSON: How long have you been writing?

MELISSA: Always.

DEVASSON: Good. Excellent, in fact. Now, I don't wish to raise your hopes but the firm (and we sense he's talking about Wolfram &Hart , though obviously neither Cordelia or Melissa know this) has strong, strong contacts with colleges and organisations which are crying out for what they call "urban youth root".

MELISSA: Sounds like a disease.

DEVASSON: I know! It's a terrible phrase.

MELISSA: Disease sounds about right.

Devasson's eyes linger on her.

DEVASSON: I'll need to look at your portfolio, obviously.

Melissa seems pained.

DEVASSON: Something wrong?

CORDELIA: Just her artistic temperament. (to Mel, urgently) Relax!

MELISSA: There's stuff in there that I don't want anyone close to me to see.

CORDELIA: Tell you what – I'll wait outside.

MELISSA: Actually, you…

She stops, having been about to assure Cordelia that she didn't necessarily include her in that group, but thinks better of it on seeing Cordelia's expression. Despite her acid tongue, her older friend can be quite fragile.

MELISSA: …would be helping me a lot, um, if you did that.

Devasson smiles thinly, dangerously.

DEVASSON: Let's get started, shall we?

Act III, Scene IV

Wesley's motorcycle draws to a stop alongside two sleek black Mercs in another unidentifiable part of town. Classic badguy cars. Three men are leaning casually against the rearmost car, while two men linger around the other. All are dressed sharply. Wesley approaches the trio with open hostility and a definite tang of apprehension.

The man in the middle is Grayson. In marked contrast to the other four visible figures, he does not possess narrowed eyes and a hooded look. He's middle-aged, comfortably podgy, and wears a cheerful grin.

GRAYSON: Wyndham Price! It must be five years.

WESLEY: What the hell are you doing here?

GRAYSON: A fine way to greet the people who put food on your table for over a decade.

WESLEY: What are the Watchers Council doing in LA?

GRAYSON: We'll tell you. If you'll listen. And you'd do well to listen, Wyndham Price. It's not slipped our minds that you co-operated with a vampire to help harbour a rogue Slayer.

WESLEY: You're threatening me?

GRAYSON: Stop. We may not like each other, but at this moment, believe it or not, you're going to need our help. Are you going to listen?

We cut to a view of the scene from the opposite angle, from behind Grayson, which enables us to see that the other pair of men both have guns trained on Wesley's head. Wesley is totally oblivious to this. He hesitates before replying. Grayson's eyes flick to the gunmen.

WESLEY: I'll listen.

GRAYSON: You see? Trust is not impossible, is it?

Act III, Scene V

Devasson's office. He's engrossed in reading Melissa's work, while she sits there and fidgets intensely, obviously incredibly discomforted by this. Every few seconds he looks up and shoots her a smile. After another few brief moments he gently places the sheets of paper back on the desk and sits facing her, saying nothing, his hands joined and supporting his chin thoughtfully. She's fairly trembling with anticipation.

MELISSA: Well?!

Devasson is unfazed. He separates his hands, hesitates (for purely sadistic reasons) and brings them together very slowly. And again. And again. After that, his three hundred watt smile is let loose. He proffers his hand to her, and she shakes it a little dazedly, as he shakes his head in wonder.

DEVASSON: Simply stunning. What can I say? Oh, the spelling is atrocious of course, but please! With someone of your opportunities to produce this sort of work! This is better than I could have imagined-you're more than qualified enough to land yourself a scholarship, more than qualified. I'll start the proceedings immediately to see just how far and how fast we can get you.

We cut to Melissa. She's speechless, dumbstruck, confounded by this.

DEVASSON: It's lucky your writing skills aren't on a par with your verbal.

MELISSA: I'm…sorry, um…you liked it? For real?

DEVASSON: I loved it. Sharp without being cocky, postmodern, youthful, full of energy but lacking in the usual inherent naïveté of the young author. I have no hesitation in predicting that your life is about to change.

MELISSA: Change?

DEVASSON: (laughs a little) Yes, of course it will. College. Campus. You'll be sponsored for it all.

MELISSA: People will pay me to go to college? You serious?

DEVASSON: Perfectly serious.

Melissa takes this in. She's not jumping up and down, but she is pleased…and also troubled, because there's an obvious flaw to this great new development.

DEVASSON: Ah…reluctant to leave someone behind?

MELISSA: Yeah.

DEVASSON: Not just that, but you're also going to enter an entirely new world. It's only natural to feel a little intimidated at that, Melissa.

MELISSA: I never expected…

DEVASSON: Don't worry about it. I'm not just here to tell you what you've always known for yourself, or to get you a sponsor. I'm here to act as your guide through the coming changes. If there's anything that I, or Wolfram & Hart, can do to help…

Melissa's head snaps up. Her eyes widen in fear. Devasson doesn't bat an eyelid.

MELISSA: (incredulously) Wolfram & Hart?

DEVASSON: The Juvenile Uplift Charitable Association is funded entirely by the firm. Didn't you know?

MELISSA: This is nuts!

She stands up, keeping her eyes locked fearfully on Devasson as she does so, backing away towards the door to the office.

MELISSA: What do you think, I'm that stupid? Angel's said enough about you guys to give anyone nightmares, and you're going to help me with a writing career now? Out of what? The world-domination of your heart?

DEVASSON: Angel…you know him?

Melissa bites off a reply, scowling fiercely. She reaches the door.

MELISSA: You had me believing you. I thought: God, finally one of those miracles you hear about happened to me, what do you know?

DEVASSON: Everything I said was true. Don't refuse this opportunity.

MELISSA: Opportunity? To what? Have the chance to work for a bunch of people who count murder as corporate games? Leave me alone, and leave my friends alone.

The door is locked. Melissa bangs on it a few times, now genuinely frightened. Devasson has remained totally immobile in his seat, and watches her begin to panic impassively. She turns, her face flushed, shaking.

MELISSA: Let me go. Now.

DEVASSON: I'm not going to sit here and watch you throw away a chance like this. You haven't the faintest idea about the truth…about us, and about your pointy-toothed knight either. You're in no danger, I promise you that. Not in this room. Not from me. Not from Wolfram & Hart. From Angel…(he shrugs)…who can tell.

MELISSA: He took us in. He protected us.

A troubled look flashes across her face as she says 'protected us'…after all, Angel didn't exactly succeed spectacularly in that mission, with Jules' current situation a testimony to that.

MELISSA: You people work for demons. You take pay from vampires. You've all sold your souls. And now you're going to, what, try and persuade me that you've been shown in a bad light all this time?

DEVASSON: Not at all. But you're an adult. Your writing shows that. Your intelligence proves it. So you tell me, Melissa – is it possible in this life to separate things into good and evil, nice and neat? We may walk a dark path, I admit it, but in doing so I've made my life safer, better. My family are well-fed. I'm a good husband and a good father. Millions of people go to work in evil jobs every day. Traders on the stock market. Some people think butchers are evil. Everyone thinks journalists are. And let's not get into lawyers, yeah. I'm not pretending what I do for a living is something shining and pure and holy. I represent monsters – that doesn't make me one.

MELISSA: Doesn't it?

DEVASSON: We're good to our own. I haven't lied to you yet, and I'm not going to start now. We will give you the money for a good education. We'll allow you to fulfil any dreams you've ever had, and we'll protect you. In fact, we've already started. Take a look at this-

He plucks a remote control from among the desk clutter and points it abruptly at the television, surprising Melissa. The screen comes to life and begins playback of a video recording of the earlier encounter between Devasson and Canon…

VIDEO RECORDING:

CANON: Kiss his ass au revoir. I don't care if Saddam Hussein is their godfather and they got a private army each for Christmas, I need to talk to those kids. At. Great. Length.

DEVASSON: Merde-we have a conflict of interests, Mr Canon. You're not exactly the most subtle of operators, and Wolfram & Hart would not look kindly upon any collateral damage you may cause.

CANON: I'll find those two little bastards, and I don't care who's in the way. Threats don't bother me. Not from you, or your bunch of crooked lawyers, or your hired muscle.

DEVASSON: It seems you don't know us at all, Mr Canon.

Melissa watches as the demons emerge from the fleet of Wolfram & Hart vehicles to intimidate Canon's men. The playback stops there, rather conveniently.

DEVASSON: Without Wolfram & Hart holding him in check, your old friend would probably have you dead by now. Which would put rather a crimp in your college ambitions, wouldn't it?

Melissa is silent.

DEVASSON: Think about that. Oh, and please, accept this-

He rummages in a drawer in his desk and proceeds to produce a small vial filled with a glowing green fluid.

MELISSA: My own snot jar! Where do I sign?

DEVASSON: This is Mohra blood. 100 pure.

The implications of this statement are not lost upon Melissa. She takes an involuntary step backward, clearly shocked.

MELISSA: You know about Jules?

DEVASSON: You expected less? This is enough blood to make one vampire totally human again. Oh, and in case you're interested, the market value of this vial is around seven million dollars.

Nervously, Melissa licks her lips.

MELISSA: And you're just going to give this thing to me?

DEVASSON: It's enough to save your friend…to cure him…that's assuming, of course, that 'cure' is the right term…?

MELISSA: What?

DEVASSON: Our knowledge doesn't stop at the fact that your boyfriend is suddenly eating much less junk food. You don't think what happened to him was so tragic an event, do you Melissa?

No reply is forthcoming. Devasson keeps up his burning, accusing stare for a few more seconds before breaking off and shrugging.

DEVASSON: There's really nothing more I can say to you. Don't think for one moment that I was lying about your abilities; you have what it takes. So do we. Wolfram & Hart can make your dreams come true.

Casually he throws her the vial. She scrambles forward in a blind panic to stop it escaping her grip and clamps it tightly between her hands, heaving a reflexive sigh of relief as she does so.

DEVASSON: All of your dreams.

Melissa walks out, tucking the vial away into her case as she does so. Cordelia is sitting by the front door entrance to the building, bored. She jumps up as Melissa approaches, beaming with excitement.

CORDELIA: What's the story?! Did he like?

Several replies flash visibly across Melissa's face. She smiles a forced smile, bringing the case around to her back and out of sight.

MELISSA: Seems I'm a hit…

Act III, Scene VI

Wesley, Grayson, and the remaining Council heavies walk into a cathedral. As usual, it is all but deserted, save a few nuns scattered about the pews like black pollen. The group take up seats away from anyone else.

WESLEY: Start talking.

GRAYSON: The Codex is a fake.

WESLEY: The Pergamum Codex?

GRAYSON: The one your boss requisitioned for Rupert Giles, yes. It's a copy, not the original text.

We might expect Wesley to ask why the conversation is about a book and not something a little more relevant, but despite himself he is fascinated already; these books are, after all, one of his great passions.

WESLEY: How do you know?

GRAYSON: Carbon dating and rune casting.

WESLEY: Carbon dating on…? You mean you-

GRAYSON: -have the original, yes. Before you ask, believe it or not the Council had it, locked up in our deepest stock vaults.

WESLEY: That's absurd! The Council spent centuries looking for the Codex, and we…they…had it all the time?

GRAYSON: The idea was to convince the other side that we didn't have it. That was the reason for the duplication and circulation of the copy-well, aside from the fact that on page 220 the book predicted as much.

WESLEY: If the Council was so desperate to protect the book, why make a copy and then lose it so quickly…unless…

GRAYSON: The real Codex, our original, contains a few extras. One extra chapter that was never copied. This whole sham was a top-level secret; so much so that the retiring President of the Council passed it on to their successor and no-one else. Until recently, one entire person on this whole planet knew about this extra chapter.

WESLEY: You have my attention.

GRAYSON: It deals with something called the Uongy'tenre…we had a translation team working on it for quite some-

WESLEY: 'The Choice of the Impossible Champion'?

Grayson is surprised. Wesley stares impassively. He knows he's good.

GRAYSON: You wouldn't want your old job back, would you?

WESLEY: I didn't like the pension plan.

GRAYSON: Ah.

WESLEY: Or the casual indifference toward justifying the murder, blackmail and intimidation of those weaker than the Council.

GRAYSON: Yes well I admit, the pension plan could use a little work. Regardless, it seems that this 'Choice' is the single event depicted in the Codex that has been left open-ended. Even the author of the most powerful book of prophecy in history was unable to predict the outcome.

WESLEY: What do we know?

GRAYSON: That it can end the world. (Beat) You seem unsurprised.

WESLEY: This is the Codex. If it's anything less than Armageddon, it's a footnote.

GRAYSON: It involves a series of tests. They're designed to eliminate for certain a specific form of life, undead or otherwise, at each stage. The entire ordeal is engineered to be logically impossible to survive.

WESLEY: If that's so, then why the huge cover-up?

GRAYSON: We think, for the first time, that there may be a way-or more accurately, an individual, who could possibly survive the tests and be granted the Choice. We know from the Codex that one of the five tests will only allow vampiric life to pass. Another test eliminates any participant without a soul. One of the tests is only possible for humans to endure.

WESLEY: The other two?

GRAYSON: The Codex describes only three, and even those are vague at best. We've searched every occult book we can find, and found only a few hushed references.

WESLEY: Angel…

GRAYSON: The location and the point in time-roughly here and now, LA-are pinpointed by the Codex. It doesn't name the Champion, but…

WESLEY: So the Council knew all along about Mohra blood and its effects?

GRAYSON: Yes, though it was highly classified. Given the rarity and viciousness of the Mohra, it was something that was only given attention in dire emergencies-in cases of Slayers being sired, for example.

WESLEY: It may be possible for Angel to pass all three known stages, but as usual you're completely missing the point – he's not about to perform some ritual to bring about doomsday, for God's sake.

GRAYSON: You don't understand. We're not here to kill him to prevent him from doing it. We're here to persuade him to do it.

His words echo a little around the impossibly grand interior of the cathedral. Wesley sits still in his seat, his lips compressed into a thin line.

WESLEY: I'm looking forward to this explanation.

GRAYSON: It's called 'The Choice' for a reason. Should the Impossible Champion get successfully through every stage, they are presented with the opportunity to do one of two things; bring about two Armageddons, if you will.

WESLEY: In case the first wasn't apocalyptic enough?

GRAYSON: (sighs) Wyndham, think laterally for a moment. How many times have the forces of darkness tried to bring about the end of days?

WESLEY: It's been a quiet week.

GRAYSON: We've grown to think that only evil can benefit from an apocalypse. But I ask you – what if Armageddon were on our side? What if the end of days meant the death of all vampires…demons…the victory over evil, once and for all.

WESLEY: (faintly) I never thought it was possible…

GRAYSON: Why not? Why shouldn't it be? The uongy'tenre could usher in Paradise, Wesley. This is our chance to actually do more than save the world at the last minute, at least until the next bunch of demons try to open one Hellmouth or other. And Angel is the key. This is his destiny, don't you see? He becomes human and ends the eternal struggle in our favour. He finally saves himself, redeems his past.

WESLEY: (a little thrown) What you're telling me is…hard to take in.

GRAYSON: It's all true. And here, my ex-colleague, is the hard proof.

He produces a book from his pocket, a truly ancient object which fairly screams its antiquity and looks as if it could fall apart at any moment. Wesley looks as if he is about to faint, such is his reverence. Grayson pushes the book into Wesley's grasp. Agonisingly slowly, Wesley dares to turn a single page, hands shaking.

GRAYSON: We do, however, have one problem.

WESLEY: …do tell…

GRAYSON: In order to begin the ritual, one must activate the Talisman of Arcon, fashioned by the first wizards, blessed by the first Pope, lost during the Second Crusade…auctioned, to Wolfram & Hart.

Act III, Scene VII

The hotel. Angel and Jules emerge from the training room, both drenched in their usual industrial dose of sweat. A full-scale debate is in progress between them.

JULES: You don't know the first thing about us!

ANGEL: I've seen it all before, Jules. I lived it.

JULES: Lived? You mean there's more to you than the brooding?

ANGEL: (hotly) If you were half as much in love in Melissa as I was with Buffy-

JULES: Hey, what gives you the right to compare my relationship with yours? How can you say how much I'm in love?

ANGEL: Your age, Jules. What are you? Eighteen, nineteen?

JULES: What age was Buffy when you met her?

The quick back-and-forth nature of the dialogue dies at this, and Jules recognises that he's scored a point. Angel runs out of verbal steam, but rallies.

ANGEL: Buffy was unique.

JULES: Every girl you're in love with is. Melissa is…like everything that's good about life, given a pulse.

ANGEL: More than you have.

JULES: What the hell does that have to do with it? I have a soul, you moron. I just don't stop being human because I-

ANGEL: Yes you do. Jules, you're not human. Neither am I. We may both have souls, and we may both cherish our qualities of humanity, but we're not homo sapiens any more. We're different.

JULES: Is this that stupid demon thing again?

Angel reacts badly to this.

ANGEL: This stupid demon thing is a line you're walking now without even knowing it. Your soul may be suppressing it, but you have a demon inside of you that wants out, and wants to tear this world apart one soul, one innocent, one massacre at a time. If you let your guard down, if you forget what you are-it will take control, soul or no soul, love or no love. Someone once told me love was about blood, not brains. They were right. That's what makes it so dangerous for us. For me. For you. Jules I'm sorry, it won't work with you and Melissa.

JULES: Because it didn't with you and Buffy.

The words, the accusation, hangs heavily in the air. Jules remains strong behind it, his eyes burning with the anger he feels. Angel is caught between the throes of the argument and the feelings stirred within him remembering his past.

ANGEL: For a while, it worked.

JULES: And she was human, right?

ANGEL: Mostly. She was the Slayer.

Before Jules can ask (and we can see clearly he was about to; obviously he doesn't yet know about Slayers), the front doors open and Cordelia and Melissa step in from the sunlit street. Melissa is still noticeably clutching her bag close to her, and seems withdrawn. Cordelia and Jules are delighted. Angel is…well, Angel.

JULES: How did it go?

CORDELIA: (claps her hands) She's a star!

JULES: I already knew that…

He steps forward and hugs an unresisting Melissa. The hug evolves from close embrace to yet another quite strong kiss. We see the reactions of the two adults; Cordelia is flabbergasted, and simply gapes. Angel coughs delicately after a few moments. Eventually, separation is achieved. Jules gives a small sigh of contentment, holding Melissa, who grins back…a shade weakly.

CORDELIA: (to Jules) Remind me never to tell you if I successfully audition, OK?

She punches Melissa in a rebuking way on the shoulder.

CORDELIA: You might have told me!

MELISSA: It's, um, early days.

ANGEL: (dryly) Good to know.

JULES: Oh look, I'm getting pretty damn sick-

ANGEL: Neither of you have the slightest idea what you're getting into. I'm not against you two being together for one minute; you've known each other for years, and it's easy to sense the connection. I just think it would be better to wait until Jules is human again.

We cut to Melissa, who instinctively cradles the bag. Which, needless to remind everyone, contains a vial which can achieve that exact goal. She seems agonised beyond belief over whether to speak up, say something. Before she can do anything, Cordelia, who until now has been too amazed to speak (a rare occurrence indeed), finally finds her voice.

CORDELIA: Look who's getting all judgemental! Mr 'Fall-in-love-with-my-natural-nemesis', Mr 'turn-evil-and-try-to-kill-everyone', Mr 'obsess-about-my-old-flame'!

ANGEL: Cordelia, a little support here? Please?

JULES: For all I know I could be killed on this mission tonight, right? I'm damned if I'm going to wait for anything…especially the one thing I've been waiting for my entire life.

He hugs Melissa again, but she pulls away unexpectedly, upset.

MELISSA: Jules, please, don't go.

JULES: What? But I-

MELISSA: But what? Why are you going? (turns to Angel) I don't understand you. First of all it's 'oh sorry about that turning you into a vampire thing, just sit still, don't bite anything and I'll get you back to normal ASAP' and now…now he's like your latest weapon or something. You're putting his life in danger.

ANGEL: I can't deny what he's become. If he chooses to use what he has to help me, then I'm willing to accept his help.

MELISSA: Jules, please. I don't want to lose you. Why are you doing this?

JULES: What do you mean, why? Because it's the right thing to do.

MELISSA: Yes, for the right people. God, we're just kids…you're not a superhero, you know? You could die.

CORDELIA: (quietly, to herself) Okay, here's where Cordy usually butts in with the wrong thing and gets all awkward…well not this time…just gonna tiptoe away…

JULES: This is-(he stops, hesitating)-this is the first thing, ever, that I've felt I'm good at, Mel, and that I've been proud to be good at. All my life I've done what it took to get by, and get you by. Watching you do the writing thing…it was a kind of compensation for me, because of the stealing, and the lying I was doing. I loved you, but I never thought, I guess, that I deserved you. Doing this thing, helping people, going up against the darkness, I know that I'm doing something right. And I can look at you, and not be ashamed of me.

He takes her hand and places it on his chest.

JULES: My heart doesn't beat, but I feel alive for the first time. This is what I want to do, I know that now. I don't want to be a vampire, because I want to grow old. With you, Mel.

Her eyes brim with tears. Cordelia, who valiantly attempted to make good on her promise and walk away, only to get about three feet, bites her lip, reaches over and hugs a very surprised Angel tightly.

Melissa gropes for her bag and its contents-

MELISSA: I have something-

WESLEY: Angel!

GUNN: Guys!

Both have burst in from the street within seconds of each other. They exchange a glance, and attempt to speak again, only to interrupt each other again. With a glare, Wesley nonetheless gestures to Gunn to speak first, even as Melissa attempts, vainly, to attract attention back to her.

GUNN: Vince is panicking-he thinks the vamps are wise to us. He says we hit in the next hour or we storm an empty building. When he says we, he means with or without us…in case that wasn't obvious.

Angel pulls on his ever-present coat, manner businesslike. Jules kisses Melissa goodbye, instinctively goes to the stand and looks miffed.

JULES: I get a coat, right?

ANGEL: Tomorrow. Let's roll out. Sundown's in about twenty minutes anyway. Wes, like I said, the gun is there, keep low, keep alert. Oh, was what you had to say really important, because…?

WESLEY: I'll remind you said that. No, it can wait until after the attack, assuming everything goes as smoothly as planned.

Gunn, Angel and Jules freeze on their way to the front doors. Wesley grimaces.

WESLEY: Oops. Sorry…

Act III, Scene VIII

The building we saw earlier in daylight, now a silhouette in the first moments of the Los Angeles night. Things seem fairly quiet. We cut away a little to a side street where proceedings are less serene; around fifty people are crowded there, all of whom are packing stakes or the v-guns. At the head of this gathering stand our four intrepid generals-Angel, Gunn, Jules and Vince.

GUNN: (to Angel) Aren't you gonna…you know, address them?

ANGEL: I don't exactly feel comfortable telling an armed crowd let's go kick some vampire ass.

Without warning, Jules steps forward.

JULES: You know what you have to do. Subterranean squads are with me; split up, lay low, and pick off the runners when things get moving. Tactics are simple-don't engage at close range; that's what these babies (he holds up a vgun) were invented for. Pick them off at a safe distance, and while they're busy dissolving from the inside out, move in for the kill, and remember-you must stake, or they'll recover.

ANGEL: Above-ground squads, same basic strategy-except we have to carry the attack, drive them. Half of you are with Vince, other half of you stick close to Gunn and me. Don't waste your ammunition; one or two shots will be enough to take a vamp out of the fight for long enough.

GUNN: Those of you who I've fought with before, you know how I like to do things-my way. No heroes out there, no corpses either. No going nuts, no settling scores, because you'll wind up dead or walking dead. We have the advantage, we have the weapons, we have the numbers. Don't screw this up.

The crowd are silent. The three speakers exchange slightly uneasy glances.

VINCE: Let's go kick some vampire ass!

CROWD: YEAHHHHH!

As the assembled teams break up and begin to march out, Vince shakes his head at the trio, grinning.

VINCE: Amateurs.

Act III, Scene IX

Devasson's office, the real one again. A Newton's Cradle clacks idly on his desk. He's wearing one of those wraparound phone headsets, and has a faraway look in his eyes which probably means he's waiting-

DEVASSON: Hello…? Yes, could I speak to Melissa, please? Ah, Cordelia, is that you! Your voice is as delightful over the phone as you are in person. (laughs) Oh I know, I know, small wonder I was a failure at the singles game way back when. Would you? Thanks.

The smile vanishes as he resumes waiting. From a drawer in his desk he produces a crossbow (casually, as if this is something one would expect to find in a piece of office furniture), sights along it at something we cannot see, aims-

DEVASSON: Melissa!

He pulls the trigger. The bolt flies from the bow and buries itself in something out of shot…not with a thud, but with a rather wet squelch. Devasson looks mildly nauseated and spins his plush executive swivel chair around to face the office window and the panoramic view of LA.

DEVASSON: Melissa, my dear, you misunderstand the nature of this phone call. Please don't think I'm going to do anything as distasteful as stalk you or some such like-there's altogether too much of that in today's society, it's a sad state of affairs. I just thought you should know something, something I myself learned but a few moments ago from the firm's intelligence division…ah, very amusing, yes…a career in stand-up surely beckons for you, my dear.Well, it seems that your friends and their little attack are in rather a deep amount of trouble. No, no, not from the vampires-that's the funny thing. The provider of the guns and much of the muscle, a Mr. Canon I believe, is rather taken with the idea of turning on your friends as soon as the masses of the undead have been dispatched. You can't get the help these-

He stops, smiles, and takes off the headset. Melissa has obviously rung off after hearing that news. Devasson breathes in the view of LA for a moment, then turns, manner businesslike once more. We are now able to see his earlier target-a human, suspended from above his office door, his mouth taped over, and now sporting a crossbow bolt from the chest. There is quite a lot of blood. Devasson presses a few buttons on his desk's phone.

DEVASSON: I did say not to fail me, didn't I? Hello, Maintenance? I'm afraid it's happened again…

Act III, Scene X

The inside of the vampire stronghold. It's pretty clear that this place has been occupied for some time by them-there are little homely touches; namely corpses and dried blood on the walls. Around sixty or seventy vampires are present, the majority of which are slumbering-the night, after all, is still in its earliest infancy. A few vamps mill around, kicking the rest into wakefulness with the usual charm of the undead. We see a few humans chained to the walls of the building, gagged. Two vampires walk casually over to them.

VAMP #1: I'm not sure if I should tonight. Takes some of the urgency out of hunting when you've already fed, you know?

VAMP #2: (nods) I know what you're saying, man, but as soon as I wake up I got this taste in my mouth…I gotta get someone down me before I can face the night.

VAMP #1: Not an evening person, huh? I was the same myself.

They walk up the line of humans, hmm-ing thoughtfully with all the manner of two workmates choosing a breakfast in the self-service canteen. The first vamp lifts up the chin of a young woman and tuts to himself, while her terrified wide-open eyes stare back at him, her body trembling uncontrollably.

VAMP #2: She's got a nice amount of fear built up, I'll give her that much. Just hope she's not like the last one.

VAMP #1: Well, that's what you get for being O Negative intolerant.

Having both chosen their selections, they lean in for the kill…and…at that exact moment…nothing happens. We hear the crunch of necks and the gleeful slurping of blood. The young woman's body spasms and stops, and the feasting vampire raises his head and licks his lips, casting a satisfied glance over at his compatriot.

VAMP #2: That'll get your engine running-

And at THAT exact moment, at both ends of the warehouse, the doors are blown to smithereens simultaneously, and with roars of challenge the building is invaded. The two vampires, some distance from what has rapidly become the front line of the battle, cast interested glances at each other.

VAMP #1: Just as well they didn't come in twenty seconds ago.

VAMP #2: Yup. I hate killing on empty.

They sprint to join the meelee. Our point of view switches from them to take in various aspects of the conflict as they unfold. After fanning out to a thin line as soon as they entered the building, the advancing human army has drawn their guns en masse, to the amusement of the vampires now rapidly approaching. We cut back to our two breakfasting vampires, who have now joined the ranks of their brethren.

VAMP #1: Guns? Couldn't they afford bits of wood?

VAMP #2: Who cares? I hate getting shot, but turning into dust really pisses me off. (looks up and down the line of vamps) Hey, isn't anyone gonna charge these peeps? Oh all right, I'll do it myself…

He charges…we see Angel shout 'fire!' and the guns begin to blaze. The vampire goes down screaming in agony, his body parts sizzling as the consecrated payload saturates his body from within. He writhes on the floor for a few moments before a well-placed crossbow bolt from one of the troops puts him out his misery.

The line of vampires take this in. As one, they take a long step back.

ANGEL: Now!

The guns begin to blaze again, cutting a swathe into the vampire lines. We move quickly to the other side of the warehouse, where a similar story is being played out with Vince's half of the invasion force. Vince, however, has predictably thrown insanity to the wind and broken his lines, charging into the middle of the retreating vamps and using a combination of gun and stake to kill as many as he can. His troops follow suit, causing panic in the undead ranks.

That's not to say that the humans are getting it all their own way-wherever a vampire can disarm one of their opponents, death usually follows fairly swiftly, and we see a few such wretched victims being quickly terminated with a savage wrench to the neck.

The vampires are clearly losing ground, but equally the humans are losing ammunition. More and more are pulling triggers to find nothing but empty clicks. The forces are pretty well trained though, and simply drop their guns, switch to stake and crossbow and begin the necessary task of picking off the agonised holy water-filled vamps who now litter the warehouse floor. Clouds of ex-vampire dust begin to whirl in the air.

Angel, as usual, has forsaken the use of the guns and instead roams the battlefield in a sort of sweeper role, lighting down upon little packs of rebelling vampires who look as if they could pose a threat. As we join him he is doing his usual trick of completely beating the crap out of multiple opponents. Dusting one vamp with a rather swish kick-and-stab combination, he's relieved of having to finish off another by the arrival of Gunn and an accurate crossbow shot. The two take advantage of the momentary hiatus to compare tactical notes.

ANGEL: They're going for the sewers.

GUNN: You gonna say this is too easy?

ANGEL: Nope. Enjoying the novelty.

They resume the fight. We cut down to Jules in the sewers, who's crouching at the entrance to a side tunnel with around ten or twelve men behind him. Clearly he's by turns excited and intimidated by holding a tenuous command over these people. He raises his head.

JULES: I hear them. They're coming. Wait for my signal.

MAN #1: Yeah, you told us that already.

JULES: Forgive me for wanting to make sure you think before you shoot. It's just that, well…

He turns around to face them, now sporting full vampire face. The assembled team are taken aback by this, to put it mildly, and stop just short of shooting reflexively (this probably wasn't a wise move by Jules, but he wanted to look cool).

JULES: …I have my little concerns over how trigger-happy you all get. Here they come; ready! NOW!

Act III, Scene XI

The hotel reception. Mel is talking agitatedly to Wesley. Cordelia is nowhere to be seen-maybe she's gone to the bathroom, who knows.

MELISSA: I'm telling you, it's a trap!

WESLEY: And who was this informant, again?

MELISSA: Call him Mr Reliable for all I care! Do something! Gunn said this Canon guy couldn't be trusted – he was right! Don't you have anyone you can call? Backup R Us? Jules could be dead by now!

Wesley ponders for a moment, sending Melissa into a frenzy of impatience.

MELISSA: Why does Angel have his phone turned off, anyway?!

WESLEY: He's a reluctant technology user. Calm down. I have an idea…

He picks up the phone and dials. It's answered almost instantly.

WESLEY: Grayson, I need your help. Now.

As he begins to explain the situation, we see Melissa taking the opportunity to exit the hotel as fast as she can. She runs outside to where Wesley has parked his motorbike, and fishes his keys (should we really be surprised?) from her pocket, throttling the machine into life and speeding off.

Back in reception, Wesley replaces the handset.

WESLEY: …well, I suggest the best thing for us to do is-(turns, realises what's happened)-charge onto the scene half-cocked. Damn…

Act III, Scene XII

We see Jules in action against the fleeing vampires. Not used to 'retreat' as a battle plan, they're confused and disorientated, and Jules is taking full advantage by combination of vgun, stake, and some pretty slick Angel-esque moves; all he lacks for the complete package, in fact, is a long coat and gelled hair.

Cut to outside the building. Canon sits on the hood of his car, flanked by more of his ever-ready heavies. He's wearing a headset and has one hand cupped to his ear, listening intently.

Back in the sewers, Jules is in a momentary spot of trouble – a vampire knocks the vgun from his grasp and leaps on him, knocking him painfully to the tunnel floor. The pair wrestle desperately, fiercely for supremacy for a few moments, before a brief instant in which the assailant catches sight of Jules' demonised features. The vampire blinks in shock and what looks like fear.

VAMPIRE: Angel?

Jules twists, retrieves his stake and brings it crashing up through the creature's ribcage from below, spearing the heart. The vampire grunts softly once, and flies apart without further fuss.

JULES: Close.

A little way away, one of the humans too is wearing a small wraparound cranial device. She's watching the events unfold, stopping only in her passive vigil to ruthlessly cut down an escaping vampire with a few economical vgun shots.

ALICE: Count three remaining vamps down here, sir. Cleanup should be over in a matter of minutes.

She's talking to Canon, and it's he who we cut to now.

CANON: Excellent. Above-ground squads report a similar story. You can ditch first stage weapons and progress to second stage when-

ALICE: Sir, one of the vamps is on our side…

CANON: Angel's down there with you? (mulls this over) Good, good…

Inside the building, Angel (the genuine article) and Canon are working on dusting a couple of vamps. The battle is short as we might expect, but we see another headset-sporting human nod meaningfully to the scattered combatants, most of whom (Vince's men excluded, obviously) acknowledge the signal in silence. There is the repeated thud of discarded vguns dropping to the floor, even as a still adrenaline-rushed Vince jogs up to Angel and Gunn.

ANGEL: Your people all right?

VINCE: AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!!! WE KICKED THEIR ASS!!

Behind him, resisting the urge to cup their ears, the men Canon so generously donated have reached into their combat fatigues and produced guns which look suspiciously unmodified. Gunn and Vince are busy high-fiving; Vince even urges Angel to high-five…unsuccessfully. Angel raises an 'I'll add that to my list of things I don't do' eyebrow. We cut outside to Canon, who is grinning thinly.

CANON: Never look a Trojan horse in the mouth, boys…fire!

Inside, shots ring out. Angel flings out an arm and floors Vince and Gunn just as the ambush from within begins. All three dive headlong for cover behind an abandoned vehicle which had previously been used to confine captured humans. In other parts of the warehouse, Vince's people are not so lucky; screams and cries of outrage and pain punctuate the air as thickly as gunshots. Angel fights to restrain a crazed Vince, all but insane with anger, from joining the one-sided fray.

VINCE: NO!! YOU BASTARDS!! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!!

GUNN: Vince, Chrissakes, you'll last five seconds out there!

VINCE: THEY'RE MY PEOPLE! THIS IS MY FAULT!

He catches Angel with an elbow to the head hard enough to make Angel release his grip, stunned. Vince makes to stand. At that moment two of Canon's goons burst into view. Vince roars in anger and pumps bullets into both of them, causing them to stagger back…a little…and not much else.

Vince looks down in utter betrayal at his gun and realises that it is a vgun – close to lethal against vampires yes, but nothing more than a nuisance to humans. Somewhere deep down we know that Vince is recalling that night when he practically drooled in Canon's face about these toys, and now the real reason for the gangland boss' generosity has been revealed.

Gunn tries to drag him back by the ankle, but Vince charges blindly, overcome with rage and the need to exact revenge. He is cut down by a hail of bullets, dead before his lifeless body impacts the warehouse floor. Gunn lets loose an anguished cry of his own, and now must be restrained by Angel.

ANGEL: He's gone. Don't follow him.

GUNN: (through clenched teeth) Double-crossing son of a bitch…what can I do?! I've got a goddam popgun here! (he waves the vgun)

In response, Angel's features flow and coalesce and harden from the soft lines of his human visage to the bumpy contours of his demonic incarnation. His expression, that of the grimmest determination and more than a faint trace of simmering rage, does not flicker for a moment, however.

ANGEL: Funny – I'm still armed.

As a new pair of gun-toting former allies appear, Angel goes into overdrive, knowing that anything less will mean Gunn's death, and probably his. He leaps full-speed and full-length, catching both men at neck height. As they sprawl on the deck, their heads twisted at awkward angles, Angel throws out a leg and kicks a discarded pistol over to Gunn, who scoops it up from the floor aims and fires point-blank in a single movement, downing another two attackers who had just sprung loose. He ducks down behind the car again as bullets fly from the remainder in retaliation, joined there seconds later by Angel.

GUNN: How's it look?

ANGEL: I count twenty, fanning out to flank us. Maybe thirty seconds before that happens, none of them want to be heroes.

GUNN: (grunts) 'Bad' woulda done me.

Down below in the sewers, the conflict over with the fleeing vampires, Jules is listening to the sound of chaotic gunfire from above, frowning.

JULES: Sounds different to before-

The woman we saw earlier-Alice, one of Canon's most decorated street generals-takes this as her cue to nod to the rest of her complement. We see the lightning-quick exchange of weapons, from everyone except her; she alone retains her vgun.

After an infinitesimal pause, a second nod from her begins the firing. Vince's representatives are cut down mercilessly before they have a chance to realise what has happened, most of them shot in the back.

Jules spins around, takes in what has happened…and freezes. All traces of his former pseudo-Angel persona vanish. He stares wide-eyed from body to body, corpse to corpse, even as their blood turns the sewer water red. Vampires don't leave behind dead bodies. It's clear he's in deep shock, and very terrified.

JULES: …oh, no…(weakly)…please, no…

Alice approaches him, a vgun pointed at his torso. She's the epitome of calm.

ALICE: There's someone who wants to speak to you.

Back inside the building, the advancing humans have almost completely flanked the hiding place of Angel and Gunn, who are still crouching where last we saw them, given their rather extensive lack of other options.

GUNN: Tell me you have a plan, right?

ANGEL: Hey, at least you can make your peace with God.

Rather aptly, God chooses that moment to grant divine intervention, in the shape of two vans, which roar into the building from each entrance simultaneously at top speed, scattering Canon's men and wrecking their careful advance. One of the vans pulls up against the (now bullet-ridden) car; from its interior pour yet more heavily armed and well-equipped troops…and, sporting a Kevlar body armour jacket and a pretty large rifle, Wesley.

He fires a quick covering burst at Canon's troops (now desperately seeking cover as a new and rather more rounded gunbattle begins). Gunn and Angel, moments ago certain that they were going to die, cast pretty disbelieving looks at each other. Then at Wesley.

WESLEY: Come on!

Not needing to be told twice, despite their measure of shock, both fugitives dive for the relative safety of the van. Wesley joins them inside, after taking the time to fire off another volley in the direction of the opposite end of the warehouse (he is, most assuredly, definitely enjoying himself).

WESLEY: Both of you – all right? Shot?

GUNN: (reflexively) No, sir.

WESLEY: (hollers) Everyone back in the vans! Let's move the hell out! (to Angel) Where's Jules?

Angel is horrified at the question. Clearly, in a time of crisis, his routine reverted to worrying about Gunn and Wesley, with Cordelia already isolated and safe. We can see an agonised flash of guilt pass over his face.

ANGEL: Still down below.

WESLEY: That'll be where Melissa is headed.

The Council forces have now made their way back to the vans, battling furiously all of the way. Fresh bodies litter the carnage-ridden floor; ironically, given the purpose of this mission, not a single vampire corpse can be seen, impossible a sight though it is. Outside, we can hear the sound of many, many police sirens wailing closer.

Angel grabs Wesley by the arm as the van exits the building at high speed.

ANGEL: Melissa?

WESLEY: We're running out of time.

Act III, Scene XIII

Canon is scowling furiously as reports of the turning of the tide in battle trickle through to him via his headset.

CANON: Wolfram & Hart, I presume. (adjusts frequency) Oh well…how's the prisoner holding up?

We cut to the sewers. Jules is being pushed unceremoniously along, his arms being held back by two burly heavies, while Alice covers him cautiously with the vgun at all times. She taps her headset to reply.

ALICE: Angel is secure, sir. He'll be with you in moments.

Jules starts at this revelation of mistaken identity, a reaction which he quickly buries and suppresses for fear of what revealing the truth might bring. As the captive party round a bend in the tunnels, we hear a low scraping from the ceiling of the stretch of tunnel they have just vacated. A few seconds later a shape drops from the streets above as quietly as possible. It is Melissa. She holds the vgun Angel left with Wesley at the hotel (having stopped to pilfer more than simply his motorbike keys) tightly against her chest. Hearing footfalls and Alice's voice from up ahead, she begins moving as stealthily as possible in pursuit.

MELISSA: What the hell am I doing…

Back to Jules.

JULES: Who, exactly, are we going to see?

ALICE: None of your concern, vampire.

JULES: Oh come on-how am I gonna know if its worth my while making an escape attempt or not?

ALICE: That all depends on whether you want to be delivered in an ashtray or not. I'm not into this witty kidnapper / hostage banter thing, OK? Just shut up and walk.

We cut back to Melissa, creeping along behind, trying her best not to faint with terror. Jules' head lifts suddenly, and he sniffs the air. He risks a furtive glance behind the group, back in the direction Melissa is approaching from. Obviously the keen vampire senses have alerted him.

JULES: You, uh, you don't date much do you?

Alice nods to one of the heavies holding Jules' arms. The pressure is duly increased to almost bone-crushing level, causing Jules to groan with pain.

ALICE: I did warn you. Besides; dating? Coming from the notorious Angel? (snorts)

MELISSA: (whispers) Jules? How good is your hearing?

JULES: Very good.

ALICE: Thanks. I thought so. Now shut up.

MELISSA: (still in a whisper inaudible to all save him) Jules, what do I do? I've only got a anti-vampire weapon here, and they're taking you to see Canon-

JULES: Canon?!

ALICE: Quite the detective, aren't we.

JULES: This is about m…this is about the pair I was hiding, right?

ALICE: (threateningly) One more word.

MELISSA: Jules, there's no time! Canon will kill you! I have to do something, now!

JULES: No!

It's too late. Melissa bounds forward from further back along the tunnel and squeezes off a few potshots with the vgun, all of which go hopelessly wide. They do, however, succeed in sufficiently distracting Alice to swing her weapon away from pointing at Jules for a moment. Jules takes full advantage by roaring in effort and slamming his two captives together by bringing his arms around, stunning both men.

Alice shoots him, twice. He screams in agony, clutching his right arm and thigh. As she's about to lunge with a stake and finish the job, though, Alice is abruptly knocked flying by a vengeful Melissa.

We cut to outside. Canon is listening to the chaos being piped through to him via Alice's wraparound headset. He leaps up from his reclining position on the hood of the car and beckons his minders to follow, which they were doing anyway.

CANON: Let's go.

In the sewers, Melissa has managed to land on top of Alice, and is giving her quite a substantial pounding, so rushed with fear and adrenaline that she's close to tears as she makes each punch. Jules clutches at his injured limbs tenderly, clearly in great pain. His skin is raw and red where the sanctified liquid has taken its acidic toll. He totters unsteadily over to Melissa.

MELISSA: Don't you (punch) ever, EVER (punch) shoot my boyfriend again, YOU HEAR ME?!

Jules pauses on his way to take a quick detour; one of the men he stunned appears to be coming around. A quick lash to the head with a well-placed foot puts paid to that recovery attempt.

JULES: Mel…I think she's (coughs) no longer a danger.

Alice is indeed very, very unconscious. Melissa stops her attack, this fact penetrating to her at last. She flings herself on Jules, kissing him tenderly with abject relief, and looking with concern at his wounded skin. Noting her worry, Jules tries to paper over the anxiety with a watery grin.

JULES: I'll live. (pause) You know what I mean. Mel, what the hell are you doing here, anyway?

Melissa helps him walk more steadily as they move further along the sewer tunnels, putting some distance between them and their comatose ex-captors.

MELISSA: Heard Canon was involved, heard he was planning an ambush. I couldn't get this picture out of my head of losing you. So here I am, saving your ass. Dammit Jules; didn't I tell you that you're not a superhero?

JULES: They (he coughs in slight pain) thought I was Angel.

MELISSA: Please. How many vampires are there in the world are there who are happy killing their own kind? (suspiciously) You sounded pleased.

JULES: I was.

MELISSA: He almost got you killed!

JULES: I don't think the part where Canon started butchering his former allies was part of Angel's plan, Mel. He was set up.

MELISSA: (mockingly) He was 'set up'. It wasn't 'part of his plan'. I thought this guy was supposed to be hero here? Where is he now?

CANON: That's what I'd like to know.

He steps from the shadows of the tunnel up ahead, along with the three minders who had flanked him on the street above, and a wide smile that threatens to bisect his face in two like cheesewire if it gets any thinner. Melissa whimpers in fear, unable to contain it. Jules stares balefully back, silent and grim.

CANON: Hi, kids. Long time.

JULES: (quietly, firmly) Mel, stand behind me. Now, Mel, do it.

Shaking, she complies. Canon watches this display with great interest.

CANON: Well. That's new. I see you two have finally stopped being coy and denying the oh-so-obvious sexual chemistry between each other. Aw…sweet.

JULES: Did you pull the trigger yourself?

CANON: I'm sorry?

JULES: On the old couple you had butchered. Did you do it? No. You got these guys to do it, didn't you. Always one step removed, right?

CANON: Well, not these guys personally per se…but why argue.

His tone chills markedly.

CANON: If you and your beloved here had performed your task properly, the old dears, bless their little hearts, might not have ended up quite as spectacularly dead. Oh, and speaking of quite as dead…

He raises a vgun and empties a shot into Jules' right leg. A puff of vaporised holy water escapes from beneath the skin. Jules cries out in pain and sinks to his knees momentarily, but rises again, teeth gritted, refusing Melissa's helping hands. He spreads his arms backwards to cover her protectively, shielding her as best he can, his face now metamorphosed to full demonic mode.

CANON: The little boy's becoming a man. Admittedly an undead, bloodsucking man, but hey…Kudos to you nonetheless.

JULES: Let her go.

MELISSA: Jules, dammit, no!

JULES: I'm already dead.

Melissa sobs and clutches at him tightly, overcome with terror and unable to accept the sacrifice Jules is prepared to make on her behalf.

MELISSA: Not to me.

CANON: Oh, my noble hero.

Ignoring Canon and the situation, Jules risks death by turning slightly away from the group of antagonists and cupping Mel's face with his hands. He smiles at her.

JULES: You hear what he called me?

MELISSA: (through her tears) You were always mine.

CANON: Oh, get a room. I'm killing you both, in case there was any lingering doubts about that. Much as I'd love to see this immensely touching farewell scene continue.

JULES: Touch her and I'll snap you in half.

The words echo slightly around the tunnel walls. It's not so much what was spoken but the manner in which Jules said it which causes the ensuing deathly, deadly silence. Jules uttered the threat without blinking an eye, and yet the sentiment had a strange backbone of concrete to it that Canon clearly sensed. He seems unnerved, but quickly buries the emotion beneath an equally genuine flare of anger.

CANON: Why don't you just die, you little f-

He fires. An instant before he pulls the trigger, Melissa utilises her new sidelong position to put herself between Jules and Canon. The modified payload strikes her in the upper abdomen, causing her to gasp deeply with lost wind and pain. The holy water steams harmlessly from her clothes, having none of the devastating acidic effects it would have had on Jules. She just saved him a hell of a lot of agony. She glances back at Jules and impatiently blocks his effort to reverse their positions.

MELISSA: Don't be stupid; these guns only bruise humans, remember? I should have been the one protecting you. (smiles briefly) For once.

They begin to move backwards.

CANON: Smart girl, as always.

He drops the vgun and produces a real pistol.

CANON: Wonder how this will work?

He fires.

Melissa drops to the tunnel floor.

Jules stares down at her limp form for a moment, as we slow down the proceedings. Water splashes up from where her body impacted. As he stares, blood begins to stain the water crimson, seeping out from where she lies in a thickening pool.

Canon fires again.

The bullet causes Jules to stagger backward, some of his own blood spraying out from a fresh hole in his chest. It doesn't seem to cause him the amount of pain that the vgun is capable of delivering…but that may also be down in no small part to his current mental state. Canon reaches for the vgun he dropped a moment earlier.

Jules moves.

A blur of pure hatred and rage, screaming at the top of his lungs in sorrow, grief, and anger, he kicks the vgun from Canon's grasp as the gangland boss tries to bring it to bear. Jules is immediately tackled by all three minders, the force of their direct frontal assault propelling all three back along the tunnel.

Canon exhales slowly. We stay with him and hear only the sounds of struggling from further down as he bends down once more to retrieve the weapon. As he locates it and wraps his hand around the barrel, there is a series of cracks, loud cracks. One. Two. Three. And then nothing but silence.

Canon freezes.

The hand holding the vgun is shaking as he stands up and turns around to take in the battle he turned his back on. His three former employees, huge men all, are scattered along the sewer wall and floor, their necks at hideous angles, heads lolling, eyes vacant. And walking towards him, seeming to fill the tunnel from floor to ceiling, is Jules, looking like the Reaper itself, growling and snarling, his yellow eyes burning, his fangs bared. All trace of human restraint, all trace of humanity, is gone from his expression.

Canon backs off, eyes wide with unabashed terror at the sight of this creature. He raises the vgun as quickly as he can…and isn't nearly fast enough. Jules is upon him in a heartbeat, dealing him a brutal blow to the head. The vgun clatters to the floor as its former wielder slams against the tunnel wall, crazed with panic and sobbing in terror, looking to the skies.

CANON: …ohGod…Jesus Mary, holy mother…ohGod…dear Lord in heaven, help me, please, please God…

Jules stops in his relentless advance, bare inches from the cowering Canon, to stare again for a timeless moment at the unmoving form of Melissa, crumpled up in a bloody heap. He turns to Canon, his fangs gleaming and exposed.

JULES: You want God's help?

In reply, Canon only gibbers in fear.

JULES: Go ask him for it.

That said, he grabs Canon by the throat and brings his canines to bear on his neck. We hear the crunch of vertebrae and the multiple snapping of a larynx, even as Jules feeds. Canon's eyes roll back in his head, and his arms and legs spasm once, briefly, before coming to a limp stop.

Jules continues to feed for a second longer, then allows the body to drop, taking his hand away from Canon's ruined, collapsed neck and throat. The corpse splashes to the floor. Jules mouth is stained red, and as we watch, a huge and powerful sobbing convulsion wracks his entire body. He sinks to his knees…

MELISSA: …Jules…

Before the second syllable is fully formed he is by her side, blinking away the tears cried but an instant before in wonder, breathing quickly in his excitement. She gazes up at him, her eyes dim. He inspects her wound, and we see he's dismayed by what he finds. Still without speaking, she presses her fingers to her wound before he can stop her. Coughing in agony and with her arm shaking in effort, she raises the crimson-topped fingers to his mouth.

Jules rears back, in realisation of what she is asking.

MELISSA: Save me. Have me. Please-

Her eyes close softly. Tears streaming once again freely down his cheeks, Jules closes his own eyes and raises his face to the skies…before bowing his head to her neck.

Another feeding is in progress.

Act III, Scene XIV

The interior of the van which holds Angel, Wesley, Gunn, and numerous Watcher's Council troops. Angel is seized immediately by another vision from the Powers That Be, and falls, his hands pressed to his head in agony.

In the usual chaotic rush of images which follow, we see glimpses of what has just transpired in the sewers with Jules and Melissa.

The vision fades as quickly as it begun, leaving Angel gasping for breath while Wesley and Gunn try to steady him.

GUNN: What now? What'd you see?

ANGEL: We're too late.

We cut to the sewers. Jules brings Melissa's numb lips up to the bullet wound in his chest, and ensures that some of his blood is passed to her. Red liquid drops from his own fangs onto the top of her head.

Back to Angel.

ANGEL: We're always too late…

Act III, Scene XV

The Karaoke Bar – Caritas – in full swing. We pan across the clientele, who are of the usual multifarious extractions. Lorne is regarding the scene with something approaching contentment from the bar, sipping at a spectacularly coloured cocktail of indeterminate origin.

A few shouts rise above the normal din of exulting musical demons. Lorne frowns and turns in the direction of the disturbance; by the entrance doors. There are two more brief cries of challenge before one of the doormen, all two hundred-odd pounds of him, comes flying through into the bar and slides to an unconscious halt.

HOST: That rules out the health inspection.

He gets off his chair and gesticulates to his staff to get the matter in hand as the demons begin to mutter in alarm. Approaching the doorway rather cautiously, he's met by Jules, who's carrying the body of Melissa in his arms. Lorne takes this in with a long look, meeting Jules' silent plea. The remainder of the doormen burst into the bar and are about to try to bring Jules to heel again…

HOST: Leave him. (snaps) I said leave him. You, get Tony some ice for that bump on his noggin. Oh, see if we have a shaman in the audience. A real one this time.

He places a hand on Jules' shoulder.

HOST: Let's get her someplace safe.

We cut to a room, presumably in the interior of the Caritas compound. Melissa's form now rests upon a luxurious bed quilted in purple velvet (the Hosts' own, who knows?). Jules is by her side, one hand on her cheek, the other clutching one of hers. The Host enters the room, carrying a small leather bag.

JULES: What-

HOST: Don't worry, soldier.

He plucks a crystal sphere from the inside of the bag (it should look more or less identical to the one Wesley used in Act 3, Scene 2) and places it on the table by the bedside. Melissa does not move a muscle. Jules regards the sphere with suspicion, but obviously does not want to press the matter. Lorne stands nearby to him and folds his arms, eventually provoking Jules to turn from his vigil.

JULES: What?

HOST: Call me pessimistic, but I don't think you're likely to burst into song about whatever happened here kiddo. So you're gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way, and just tell me from the beginning.

JULES: She got shot.

HOST: Is that where those bullet holes came from?

Jules' features morph into his demonic side. He snarls at Lorne, who backs off.

HOST: OK, easy on the sarcasm, reading you loud and clear on that one. Just excuse me for being a little impatient, but I get enough of the taciturn titan pastiche from your landlord. Quit drip-feeding me here.

JULES: I don't feel like talking about it.

HOST: Should I phone Angel, and see if he knows?

He leaps backward slightly after saying this, as if expecting another snarl, or perhaps worse from Jules. Neither is forthcoming. The young man simply slumps his shoulders and leans closer to Melissa. When he speaks, his voice is low and hushed.

JULES: Don't do that.

HOST: Did she ask you to do it?

JULES: Yes. And I should have said no.

HOST: You'd have watched her die.

JULES: It would have been better than killing her.

HOST: Better! Try telling that to the echo of that thumper in your chest. Love isn't about what's better or worse, or even what's right. If you can stop and weigh up the pros and cons – newsflash – you're married.

JULES: How did you know she - ?

HOST: (imitating someone singing) It's not something I put on the posters to attract customers. You do remember knocking everyone out, opening your soul…

Jules' slumped shoulders straighten. He stares at Lorne with a dangerous expression.

JULES: You knew this was going to happen?

HOST: Hey, hey! Reading destinies doesn't work in terms of knowing. Just because I glimpse a map of your life doesn't mean I can navigate every square inch. All I knew was that sleeping beau-

Melissa springs to abrupt life, begins choking, retching. Lorne sandwiches himself to the wall in shock, clutching his chest. Jules watches her fight the incredible surges of power surging through her in silence, emotions running through his expression one after the other. He keeps a grip on her hand throughout as her breathing slowly, surely, returns to normal. Sweat sits out in beads on her forehead. Her eyes open from tightly shut against the pain to slivers, to fully exposed to the world.

JULES: …Melissa…?

Melissa slowly rises from her reclining position until her upper body is vertical. She takes in the sight of Jules and a huge grin spreads across her face.

MELISSA: Jules!

They embrace, muttering things to each other. While this is going on, Lorne quietly picks up the crystal ball and brings it closer to the pair, his face set in intent.

Before he can bring the ball too close, however, Melissa's right hand snakes out and clamps him by the wrist. She has accomplished this without looking up from hugging Jules. Lorne gasps in pain. The embrace ends.

MELISSA: I could hear your hand moving…

HOST: (tensely, pained) While I still have my piano-playing bones intact, please?

JULES: Mel, let him go.

MELISSA: What is this thing? Oh…a soul-detector. Cool.

She squeezes Lorne's wrist a little harder. With a yelp of anguish he drops the ball, squarely into her outstretched left hand. She turns it over idly in her grip, releasing Lorne almost as an afterthought. He rubs his arm resentfully.

MELISSA: Isn't this thing supposed to…

On cue, there is a white pulse from the ball. Melissa grins. Jules is astonished, as, we see, is Lorne himself.

JULES: But – that means you have a soul?

HOST: You passed it on.

MELISSA: Yep, guess so. Anyone Angel sires retains their soul because, hey, he's got one too. Makes sense for the same rules to apply to you.

She lifts up her bloodied jumper and watches in awe as her bullet wounds begin to visibly shrink, cauterise and close. The whole process takes about ten seconds, after which she gingerly touches the exposed skin, and feels no pain.

MELISSA: Is this not so unbelievably amazing, I ask you! Jules! Me and you, kid, laughing in the face of bullets from now on!

She bounds from the bed and kicks out with a foot, putting a hole clean through the wall. Not stopping for a moment, she bends down and peers through it, into the Karaoke Bar. We cut to there, and a few rather taken aback demons looking at her from their now-covered-in-concrete table. She giggles.

HOST: Much as I appreciate the Xena-antics… Stop. Now.

JULES: Mel…

MELISSA: Oh, lighten up! I was dead five minutes ago!

JULES: You're still dead.

MELISSA: (dismissively) Dead, undead, alive, who cares? It's a lot more fun than lying bleeding in some sewer. Which reminds me…you did kill that bastard, yeah?

Jules flinches. Lorne watches this intently, but says nothing. Melissa frowns in puzzlement at Jules' recalcitrance.

JULES: Yeah.

MELISSA: Go, Jules! Big up! We're in the clear, sweetheart!

She squeals with delight and spins him around, hugging him tightly. Letting him go, she turns, still enthused with happiness, and contemplates Lorne for a second. He stares back at her, eyes widening in alarm.

HOST: Wh-oooof…

He too is caught up in a tight hug. Smiling weakly, he pats Melissa on the back, before taking his arms and more or less bodily forcing her from him. Smiling in a tolerant way, he regards the pair of young vampires.

HOST: I'm thrilled for you and the whole 'being alive' thing. Really. But if you think this is the finishing post in the race, boys and girls, think again. This is a big thing; you've got to stand there and decide, both of you, what it is you want to do now. And don't make the snap choice. What you do now-

MELISSA: (raises a hand) Er?

HOST: (sighs) Yes, the vampire at the back.

MELISSA: Can we, um, just go out and dance?

Beat.

HOST: And that's the plan, is it?

MELISSA: I might improvise a bit of groping, but that's the basics.

JULES: I second this plan.

Act III, Scene XVI

At the hotel, music is playing pretty loudly from a stereo in reception. Cordelia comes out from the office, dancing merrily to the tune. She's got the definite air of the 'home alone' girl kicking back – her hair is in the midst of some modifications, there's a plate of crisps on the counter, and a huge glossy magazine lies beside them. She switches between quick snatches of unashamed grooving, quasi-guilty snacking and open-mouthed envious reading (it's probably a fashion magazine). As we watch, she begins picking out the models with a finger.

CORDELIA: Am I better looking than….you…yep…you…yep…ooh, I am so much thinner than her…eating disorder, surgery, tramp…

Screech of tires from outside. Cordelia looks up in an 'I knew this was going to happen' way, turns off the stereo, stows the bowl of crisps under the counter and tucks the magazine under a few case files. She runs a hand through her hair as footsteps and general commotion approach the front doors.

As they are flung open, we go into super slow-motion and have very dramatic music heralding the entrance of our returning heroes, i.e. Angel and Gunn. Wesley is as yet nowhere to be seen. We cut to Cordelia, who's looking pretty nonchalant about the whole business.

ANGEL: Calls?

CORDELIA: Not a one.

GUNN: Dammit!

He throws his weapons down, frustrated. Angel goes straight to the telephone and begins dialling. Cordelia purses her lips, obviously waiting for an explanation. Gunn kicks out at the wall in frustration – more or less exactly like Melissa did in Caritas, the only difference being that Melissa didn't suppress a yelp of pain.

CORDELIA: So…

ANGEL: (on the phone) Lorne?

CORDELIA: What's going on? Anyone?

Wesley enters the hotel at this point, looking suitably grim about the world. Cordelia starts in surprise to see him.

CORDELIA: There you are! I turn my back for five seconds and you're out of here!

ANGEL: (still on the phone) Yes, I'll hold…

WESLEY: Did either of them come back?

CORDELIA: Either of…?

WESLEY: Jules or Melissa!

CORDELIA: Okay, enough with the comedy confusion, what is going on?

ANGEL: Melissa left the hotel.

WESLEY: There was a double-cross at the ambush.

GUNN: We got separated from Jules.

ANGEL: They were attacked.

WESLEY: Angel had a vision.

GUNN: Of Melissa. She's been sired.

ANGEL: By Jules.

WESLEY: To save her life.

GUNN: We don't know where they are now.

ANGEL: Yes we do. (into phone) We're on our way. Make sure they don't leave.

Replacing the phone in the cradle, he sweeps out without another word, Wesley and Gunn close on his heels. The doors close. We stay on Cordelia, who looks, to breathtakingly understate matters, stunned.

Abruptly, she comes to her senses, and charges out from behind the desk in pursuit of the disappearing trio.

Act III, Scene XVII

Wolfram & Hart – Devasson's Office. He's in a meeting with two unseen others, and the camera faces him. Adorning his expensive executives' desk are the usual array of accessories; a laptop computer, small piles of white paper, and the archetypal executive toy – a Newton's cradle, which is in motion.

DEVASSON: In the space of one night, we have managed to rid ourselves not only of the surplus vampire population of that part of the city, but also the more unsavoury element, in the form of the late Mr. Joseph Canon. May he rot in peace.

Pause. Devasson smiles broadly, but we sense he's just a little nervous beneath his normal unflappable exterior.

The cradle seems to be clacking faster.

DEVASSON: Of course, those are only the short-term gains. Our more invested goals are still securely in place, rest assured.

The left chair creaks. Devasson licks his lips. When the voice emanates, it has the texture and warmth of slabs of granite breakdancing.

VOICE #1: The Watcher's Council are here.

DEVASSON: Ah…indeed they are. On schedule, I may add.

VOICE #1: You expected this?

DEVASSON: They do have extensive contacts. Their appearance here was inevitable, especially with the signs so clearly stated. It's under control.

The cradle has now definitely picked up speed, impossible though this is. The increase in noise level has been enough to alert Devasson to this, and every few seconds his eyes helplessly flit to the kinetic ballet.

VOICE #1: Admirable confidence.

DEVASSON: At your service. I'm only privileged that the Senior Partners thought me worthy to oversee –

VOICE #1: We did not select you.

DEVASSON: Ah?

VOICE #1: (slowly, with malicious intent) You were appointed from Ground Level. I'm sure it was because they had confidence in you. And not, perhaps, because they thought you expendable in the face of failure.

The cradle is in chaos. Devasson says nothing.

VOICE #1: The uongy'tenre is very important to the Senior Partners. Weak and foolish though the humans of the Watcher's Council are, they have been working against us for centuries. They should not be underestimated. All has come to pass – the three candidates exist.

DEVASSON: Yes, but surely Angel - ?

VOICE #1: Nothing is certain. Remember that. (pause) My apologies for my companion. I think he needs to vent a little steam. I'd advise you to duck.

Devasson hurls himself under his desk. We cut to an outside shot of the W & H building, just as most of an entire floor is annihilated in a fireball of exploding glass and metal. As we stay on the building, two silhouettes detach themselves from the debris cloud and plummet to the surface below…passing right through.

Act III, Scene XVIII

En route to Caritas, everyone is packed into the back of the Watcher's Council van, the same vehicle used to effect the rescue of Angel and Gunn from the ill-fated assault on the vampire stronghold.

More to the point, most of the Watcher's Council troops are still in there. An awkward silence prevails, and is broken from a predictable source.

CORDELIA: Who the hell are these guys? Was there a garage sale on private armies?

WESLEY: Watcher's Council.

CORDELIA: And this is OK with everyone?

GUNN: (shrugs) It's been that kinda week.

WESLEY: Angel, there's something I have to discuss with you. Soon.

ANGEL: (glancing around) I figured as much.

GUNN: Some protector I turned out to be.

ANGEL: Wasn't your fault.

GUNN: Never said it wasn't yours either.

WESLEY: Stop this, both of you. There's a very real possibility that the same process we witnessed when Angel sired Jules is still in effect. Besides, wherever Melissa is now, Jules is bound to be with her. He knows the difference between right and wrong.

ANGEL: She's got a hold over him, Wes.

CORDELIA: Hey! Mel's not a bad kid.

GUNN: You don't know her like I do.

CORDELIA: And maybe you don't understand her like I do. All her life she's been on the bottom rung, without really knowing why. The only thing she wants is –

GUNN: Payback.

CORDELIA: - a chance. If she's a vampire now, a regular vamp, then fine, mourn for her. If she's not…then we just have to hope Virginia's demon hunters have like, bonanza day or something. It's not the end of the –

She trails off, reacting to the 'don't even think about it' expressions of the other three.

CORDELIA: (musingly) When the workmates didn't let her talk about doomsday in case she jinxed the night's work, Cordelia knew it was time for a career change…

Act III, Scene XIX

Caritas. Melissa and Jules are in the midst of a full-blown melee on the dancefloor. It's not the slow, painstaking movement of, say, Angel and Buffy back in their Bronze heyday – this should remind us a lot more of what it might have been like had Faith and Spike ever gotten together…

Lorne is watching from his usual vantage point, a drink in hand. He knocks back a long draught and shivers as he continues to take in the scene, clearly uneasy at some aspect of what is being played out before him.

A hand taps his shoulder. He turns, and we see that the hand belongs to the girl whom Jules rescued in Act IV, Scene 11, Charly. She's dressed to kill.

HOST: Oh, not you again.

CHARLY: (sticking out her tongue) Me again. Is he here?

Lorne casts a furtive glance over to where Melissa and Jules are dancing.

HOST: How many times, kiddo? Move on. Plenty more non-fangy fish in the sea. Find yourself a nice boyfriend. A nice, alive boyfriend. Am I getting through here? I don't wanna have to bar you.

CHARLY: Bar me! For what?

HOST: Much as I hate to rain on your genetic parade, you're not technically a demon, are ya? They tend to be a little heavier on the weaponry and mutation. And wear less push-up bras.

CHARLY: Oh my God! There he is!

She waves to Jules, who doesn't see her. Before Lorne can stop her she rushes forward into the crowd. He looks after her for a moment, sighs, and turns back.

HOST: Tom, hit me. And don't spare the worm.

We move to follow Charly as she pushes herself bodily (and there's quite a lot of bodily she can use to help herself here) through the heaving masses until she's reached her target. Jules gives her a momentary glance, but doesn't recognise her. He and Melissa are, to put it mildly, pretty wrapped up in one another.

CHARLY: It's you! Oh God! I thought I'd never see you again!

She moves to tap him on the shoulder. Without looking back, Melissa snakes out an arm and clamps the other girl's wrist like a vice. Seeing this, Jules frowns and stops dancing. He looks closer at Charly and a flash of realisation hits.

JULES: Mel, let her go. It's…Charly, right?

MELISSA: You know her?

She releases her with an air of reluctance. Charly glares at her with open hostility.

CHARLY: He saved my life a few nights ago.

JULES: (smiling) Yeah. Mel, you remember, I told you –

MELISSA: Yeah. Well, all part of the service. Now be somewhere else.

CHARLY: I – I was just hoping I could thank you –

Melissa leans closer, her tone now fairly dripping with menace.

MELISSA: Fresh outa hope over here. Thanks anyway. Be. Someplace. Else.

JULES: Mel, relax.

MELISSA: I will not –

Ignoring her, Jules steps forward and shakes Charly's hand, smiling awkwardly. Behind him, Melissa is fairly seething. The situation is not improved when the other girl, unable to help herself, turns the handshake into a full-blown hug. Jules manages to extricate himself from the embrace hurriedly, casting one split-second warning glance over his shoulder to prevent Melissa from doing anything rash.

Melissa merely smiles, beatifically.

JULES: So, you know, generally be a bit more careful around the streets at night. I can't be there every time.

CHARLY: (adoringly) I will. You can't. I know. You're right.

JULES: Uh huh. So, thanks again, and…see you around.

He turns away, back to Melissa. Charly stares at them for a moment, sighs, and walks back through the crowd. We cut back to the Host, who's been watching these events intently, obviously expecting the worst. He addresses the off-camera barman, but we get the impression he's really talking to himself.

HOST: Whew. That coulda been worse. My ticker's going so fast I'm darn near bouncing off this stool, I tell ya.

Back to the couple. In a break between songs, they pull apart from a kiss long enough for Jules to cast a slight frown at his companion.

JULES: What was all that about?

MELISSA: All that?

JULES: Mel…

MELISSA: (sighs) Oh, all right. I hold my hands up (does so) bad attack of the little green monster, my fault entirely, begging your forgiveness. She was pretty…

JULES: (in an everso sincere puzzled voice) Was she?

MELISSA: Ooh, who's a well-trained boyfriend!

They share a laugh – relieved, on Jules' part, and go back to the business in hand. Charly has reached the bar again. We see Melissa, her head resting on Jules' left shoulder, watching her intently. She smiles slowly.

Act III, Scene XX

A dimly-lit LA street, nameless. Strolling casually along are Utrech and Yimsin, still in their ridiculously thin disguises. Since no-one is still giving them a passing glance, we have to assume the old appearance suppression spell is still working fine.

UTRECH: No-one was impressed, you know.

YIMSIN: Oh, you're just jaded, that's your trouble.

UTRECH: Subtlety is the key to these humans. Centuries we've been working together, and you still haven't figured that out.

YIMSIN: Subtlety is all very well, all very well. But sometimes, and damn me to Hell for saying it, you just need to blow up a floor of one of their buildings to get them to take any notice of you.

UTRECH: Hmph. (beat) Which one?

YIMSIN: Oh…the one with the boiling lakes of acid, and all those giant teeth things.

He utters a small curse and bends down to rummage at his feet. Utrech, having been used to this for many, many years, simply stands and waits.

UTRECH: I was sorely tempted not to tell that lawyer to duck.

YIMSIN: He's a slimy one, all right. You couldn't – ?

UTRECH: About a metre behind you. It's either your toe or a fossilised peanut. Slimy doesn't begin to cover it. As far as he was concerned, we were the Senior Partners, and yet he still had the audacity to sit there and lie to our f…to us.

YIMSIN: He's got backbone. (bitterly) Lucky bastard. So what now?

UTRECH: We do what we've always done. We watch. We record. We observe.

YIMSIN: And when the time comes…

UTRECH: When the time comes, my friend, we choose.

Act III, Scene XXI

Our consignment of heroes burst into Caritas, all drama and furrowed brows (very like the 'group shot' they use in credits, in fact). They approach the Host, who's still leaning at the bar nursing another drink.

ANGEL: Where?

HOST: Would ya like to buy a sentence?

GUNN: We don't have time for –

HOST: Oh, settle, settle. Here comes the undead Boy Wonder now, anyway.

Jules is indeed walking to the group. He seems unsure as to what his expression should be; from his point of view, things are confusingly positioned between fine – after all, Mel seems happy with her new lot – and very, very not fine.

ANGEL: Where is she?

JULES: Angel, I –

ANGEL: Save it. I saw it already. Where is she?

Jules allows his gaze to travel downward. Held tightly in Angel's grasp is a stake. Wesley and Gunn too are packing. He backs off a step.

JULES: You're here to kill her, aren't you.

GUNN: We're a little late for that, wouldn't ya say?

JULES: You don't understand. She's – she's got a soul. (to Lorne) Tell them!

HOST: It's true. Denicron sphere. (shrugs) Use it as a discoball on retro nights.

The grim certainty of purpose drains from Angel and Gunn. Neither seems sure what to say or do next.

WESLEY: You sired her?

JULES: I had to! She was dying in front of me! I couldn't just stand there and let h –

WESLEY: Please. Just answer the question.

JULES: (quietly) Yes. Yes, I sired her.

WESLEY: You're forming an entirely new breed of vampires. Anyone sired by the three of you will retain their soul – my God – the implications…

HOST: Nope.

The word, though quietly spoken, cuts through Wesley's enthusiasm. Everyone turns to stare at the Host, who meets their eyes with typical calmness.

HOST: Hate to rain on your parade buddy boy, but the soul-retaining stops here. You've got yourselves a Trinity, but anyone who swaps the sticky juices with our three fun-loving avengers will be a normal vamp, lack of soul very much alive and kicking, your usual laugh-a-minute vacuous killer.

CORDELIA: You know all of this suddenly how?

HOST: We're dancing to an old, old tune here. Whose tune – anyone's guess. I'm not even sure I like the melody much. But the notes are there, sweetheart, and not so very far under the surface.

ANGEL: (impatiently) Where is she?

HOST: Somewhere even you can't go, big fella.

Act III, Scene XXII

The ladies.

Melissa enters, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. She crosses to the line of mirrors and sinks. As this is Caritas', most are occupied by things which stretch the definition of 'female' to breaking point. Selecting an unoccupied mirror at the far end of the row, she runs carefree fingers through her hair.

Cordelia opens the door, very cautiously. Used as she is to the demonic underbelly of LA by now, she's still a bit taken aback by the strangeness of the menagerie of creatures in front of her. She spots Melissa and moves to her.

MELISSA: Hey, Cordy.

CORDELIA: How are you holding up?

MELISSA: Never felt deader, sister. I'm fine.

Cordelia is about to reply when she realises something. Looking into the mirror, she sees only herself. Melissa, seemingly oblivious to this, persists in adjusting her hair. Cordelia sends a concerned look at the younger girl.

CORDELIA: I know what happened. You must be feeling –

MELISSA: Cordy. Don't tell me what I must be feeling, OK? Nothing's changed. Still can't seem to get my hair to behave itself. You'd think manageable hair would be a vampire gimme, surely?

CORDELIA: Nothing's changed? You're dead, Mel.

MELISSA: Some of my best friends are dead. (she turns to Cordelia) Except they're not still pretty. Killed for drugs, killed for kicks, some of them just plain disappeared from the face of the Earth. Always knew I'd end up a corpse one day, probably one day soon. What I didn't think –

She lashes out with a fist behind her, pulverising a patch of wall and sending plaster flying. Murmurs of disquiet run up and down the remainder of the denizens of the room at this. Cordelia covers her nervousness with a familiar superior bearing.

MELISSA: – was that I'd end up as a corpse who could do that. How do you think it feels to be strong, Cordy, after so many years of hiding? Can you imagine that?

CORDELIA: No, I can't. I was always strong. I wasn't able to poke ventilation shafts in walls like some blondes I could mention, but I was strong. I got my strength from the wrong place, maybe, but it was still there.

MELISSA: (disgusted) Strength against what? Cutting comments? Dangerous essays? Drive-by brunches? You don't know the first –

Cordelia slaps her.

Melissa brings her hand to her cheek disbelievingly. She has vamped out. Behind them, the rest of the room's nose-powdering population watches intently.

CORDELIA: Strength against an invisible nutcase who tried to cut up my face. Strength against a reptile-demon worshipping bunch of college boys who put me up for sacrificing. Strength against a vampire who you might recognise hell-bent on killing me and my friends just so his ex-girlfriend would notice him again. Oh, and did I forget to mention the fifty-foot snake and his pet posse of fiends who invaded my graduation? So don't you ever, ever, think that your heart has to stop beating before you can stand up for yourself.

Melissa makes no reply. Her yellowed eyes burn with anger, and humiliation. Her hand, still exploring the red weal of the slap, moves up to slowly touch and probe her ridged forehead.

CORDELIA: My nose feels powdered enough. I'm leaving. Are you coming or not?

MELISSA: I'll…(she slumps)…I'll be out a minute. Please, Cordy. I just…I just don't want Jules or the guys to see me like this.

CORDELIA: Sure. Mel?

MELISSA: Yeah?

CORDELIA: I'm sorry.

MELISSA: What for?

They stare at each other for a moment. Cordelia smiles.

CORDELIA: Whenever you're ready.

She leaves. Melissa fixes her stare to follow her for a moment. She smiles again, and turns to face one of the cubicles lining the opposite wall.

We see its occupant. It is Charly.

MELISSA: Knock, knock…

She is about to leap at the door when Cordelia pokes her head into the ladies again.

CORDELIA: Oh, hey, I probably should have said. There's a violence suppression spell over this place. It only affects demons and vamps, though. So (she grins sheepishly) that little stunt I played wasn't as impressive as it looked. Sorry.

Melissa digests this. Her features return to their normal humanised state. Cordelia remains at the door as the cubicle opens and Charly exits casually, moving past Mel, crossing to the line of mirrors and adjusting her lipstick and hairstyle, constantly checking her reflection.

CORDELIA: You coming?

MELISSA: Yeah. I'm ready to go.

She and Charly reach the door at the same time. Mel gestures and smiles broadly.

MELISSA: After you. I insist…

Act III, Scene XXIII

Back at the hotel, which is getting ever more populated; around the central reception area are Gunn, Cordelia, Angel, Melissa and Jules. Standing a little way off the main group are Wesley and Grayson. Wesley is currently finishing a telephone call.

WESLEY: …once again, thank you, yes. (replaces phone) Damn!

GUNN: Nothing?

WESLEY: No contact from the group since yesterday morning. They were supposed to check in every three hours. I'm afraid it's looking rather grim, though Virginia says we shouldn't abandon all hope just yet.

ANGEL: What about Council boy here?

GRAYSON: I'm sure you of all people appreciate quite how rare Mohra blood is. The Council simply –

WESLEY: – has bottled lakes of the stuff, if I know the Council.

GRAYSON: I only wish we did. Sadly the underground market in the substance has been somewhat…cornered.

ANGEL: (wearily) Wolfram & Hart, right.

We get a glance at Melissa. She's following the exchange closely, but seems to have no inclination to add anything to it.

JULES: Well then we pay them a visit, right?

ANGEL: There's no we in this one. Not with Wolfram & Hart.

MELISSA: (innocently) What's so bad about these guys, anyway?

Everyone else in the room – Grayson included – reacts to this question incredulously.

CORDELIA: Do ya have a millennium?

WESLEY: Wolfram & Hart are the most dangerous force of organised evil on the planet, Melissa.

GUNN: (darkly) Plus, they send you poisoned ham at Christmas.

GRAYSON: Oh, you received those as well? We've been getting one since the Reformation.

WESLEY: Wolfram & Hart have been around since the seventeenth century?

GRAYSON: Good God, no. Wolfram & Hart have been around much longer than that, though they haven't always gone by the same name. And they do not exist merely here, but in all dimensions, on all worlds. Fortunately, wherever they rear their head, the Powers That Be are there to combat them. With champions, like the Slayer.

Realisation dawns on Jules. He meets Angel's eyes, understanding what was meant previously when the vampire mentioned Buffy and their special relationship.

GRAYSON: (eagerly) The uongy'tenre is our chance to rid this world of their influence. Surely the events of the past few days have been much more than coincidence. We need the Talisman of Arcon. We know it is held in the vaults of the Wolfram & Hart building here in Los Angeles. That same vault should contain enough Mohra blood to restore our two young friends here many, many times over. You will, of course, have the full resources of the Council to bring to bear on this task; this is top priority, let me assure you.

ANGEL: So why no Slayer?

Grayson is stopped in his tracks. He stares at Angel, slightly open-mouthed.

GRAYSON: I don't understand –

ANGEL: Seems simple enough to me. Top priority for the Council. And the Council's number one weapon of choice is, and always has been, the Slayer.

WESLEY: So why isn't Buffy here? You did ask her for help?

GRAYSON: The Slayer is…not an option.

ANGEL: (standing instantly) Why?

GRAYSON: At this moment she has, ah, problems of her own.

Angel lunges at Grayson and pins him to the reception desk. Wesley makes no move to stop him from doing so. There is a deathly silence, broken only by a slight choking.

ANGEL: What kind of problems?

GRAYSON: There is…Sunnydale is under attack from…a God…Glory…trying to open the gateway to all dimensions…

ANGEL: And yet you're curiously unworried about this?

He relaxes his grip slightly, enough to allow Grayson to speak without croaking.

GRAYSON: Because, you fool, if we can activate the uongy'tenre, Glory, for all her power, will be destroyed instantly. We need Buffy in Sunnydale to hold off her assault for as long as we know she can; if we brought her to LA, we would risk Glory opening the gateways unopposed.

WESLEY: What of Buffy? You're letting her go up against a God in the meantime?

Angel releases Grayson and walks away. The Council man adjusts himself, sending a malice-filled glance to the retreating vampire's back.

ANGEL: Buffy can handle it. I know she can. She's coping with her mother's death better than I ever could have thought. She's strong.

MELISSA: (whispering, to Jules) Do I get the feeling that –

JULES: Mm hmm.

CORDELIA: Much as I hate to say it…aren't we forgetting someone a lot closer to home in all of this?

The attention turns to her. She looks as if she's hating every word.

CORDELIA: If we really do need all the help we can get…

WESLEY: Out of the question. Totally and absolutely out of the question.

CORDELIA: Fine with me. Forget I mentioned it.

GUNN: Mentioned what?

ANGEL: It's worth thinking about.

GRAYSON: You…you surely can't be serious. The Council would never allow such a horrific risk.

JULES: What'd be such a risk?

ANGEL: Everyone needs a chance to prove themselves. Ask some people in here.

WESLEY: I think in this case, they've already proven themselves.

CORDELIA: A few times over.

MELISSA: (to Gunn and Jules) Did we skip the prologue here, or what?

ANGEL: It's an option. Nothing more.

GUNN: For the last time –

WESLEY: An option?! You would give consideration to springing a known murderer from jail at a time like this? One who also happens to be an active Slayer? One who tortured me and injured Cordelia on her last little soiree in these parts, before her oh-so-miraculous conversion to justice?

He turns to the previously unenlightened trio.

WESLEY: Most of that was for your benefit, you realise.

They gape back at him, open-mouthed, trying to absorb this latest in a long line of revelations. There is a long silence.

JULES: Oh. Thanks.

Act III, Scene XIV

Wesley's office. Angel and Melissa enter. We catch a brief glimpse of Jules skulking around outside, sending furtive glances. Before closing the door, Angel sends a meaningful glare in the direction of the young vampire. Jules gets the message, and reluctantly stalks away. Angel takes his seat.

MELISSA: You don't have to say the same things you said to Jules, you know. I mean, he pretty much told me the big 'welcome to your nightmare' speech you gave him when he'd been sired.

Angel says nothing.

MELISSA: That said, I know we're different people, he and I. I mean you've probably figured that out by now. And I guess things are different now than they were back then, because he's…fitted in. Kinda. I, uh, I hope I can do the same.

Angel makes an 'oh, really?' face.

MELISSA: Not exactly like he does. I don't know if I could do the whole champion of justice deal, fighting on the front lines. He's good at that (she smiles proudly), he's been doing it all his life I guess. Whereas me, I'm more your plain survivor.

Angel absorbs this with a slight nod; whether this signifies agreement is not clear.

MELISSA: I need to know what I am, though, I mean I know that. And hey, I mean not only have I got you to help me, I've got Jules too, so it shouldn't – well, I know it'll be difficult, probably a lot more than I know, so you don't need to give me the old 'not nearly afraid enough' speech – but I think I can handle it…

She trails off. Angel lets the silence reign for another few moments.

ANGEL: Well, now that the presentation is over, let's start the actual talking.

MELISSA: (puzzled) Presen –

ANGEL: Don't patronise me, Melissa. You're right; you're a different person to Jules. You're a writer. I know writers – I ate some of the best. They rehearse things. You've already been through this meeting in your mind. You've written it. And that's great, shows you're a good writer. One problem, though; you're damn well going to listen to what I have to say, and you won't if you think it's done already.

MELISSA: So everything I said back there was irrelevant? It wasn't basically what you were about to tell me now? Is that it?

ANGEL: Some, sure. It's gotta come from me, though. Not you. That's how it works. If you don't like it, there are (he pauses) other options. Now, do you listen?

MELISSA: All ears.

ANGEL: See, I can't win here. It'd be bad enough if you thought I was human; I'd still be older than you, too many years for you to think anything I said applied to you. But hell (laughs mirthlessly) I'm a vampire! I'm centuries past you. So if I tell you that you remind me of someone I knew, you're gonna think –

MELISSA: – big surprise –

ANGEL: – you got it. It's true, though. And the thing is, the person you remind me of, I only met her a few years ago. Smart girl, this one. Hailed from Boston, didn't exactly grow up in the lap of luxury. Used to viewing things in terms of me versus them. Power dropped into her lap, power she didn't ask for.

MELISSA: Claimed by the darkness she swore she could handle.

Angel narrows his eyes. The tension in the room is palpable.

ANGEL: Just because you can storyboard it doesn't mean you can imagine it.

MELISSA: Just because you fear it doesn't mean it'll happen.

ANGEL: I see the same conflict in you.

MELISSA: I see the same conflict in everyone.

ANGEL: Not everyone can do the damage you can do. The other girl had a choice between the light and the dark. She reached out, she came to me for guidance.

MELISSA: And you blame yourself.

ANGEL: I showed her what the dark was, how it could absorb you and never spit you out. She went right ahead and she immersed herself.

MELISSA: Some people are made for the shadows.

ANGEL: No-one is made for the shadows. But they're there if you want them.

MELISSA: I get it. OK? I get it. You know, maybe you don't quite remember what it was like to be human, Angel, but I do. And when you spend a lifetime running and come back from the dead, hey, for a while you get pretty excited. I'm sorry if this is immature of me, to be glad to still be…to still have a chance of being alive again, but it seems you've already made up your mind I'm bad news.

ANGEL: I haven't. Have you?

MELISSA: (angrily) What I make of myself is my business!

ANGEL: Just so long as you know that I'll always be there.

MELISSA: Oh yes. To turn out the lights.

ANGEL: If you're not afraid of the dark, Melissa…now would be a good time to start.

Act III, Scene XXV

An alley, thronged with gang members. Human, though we're stretching the definition a little. If anyone here isn't packing a weapon, they're keeping quiet about it. We linger on numerous vguns and more conventional weaponry. At the head of the throng stands Devasson's sewer lieutenant Alice, her face bruised and swelling from the beating dished out to her by Melissa earlier. She seems fairly pissed off.

ALICE: If they did this to the boss, they'll come after us too. I know there's some of you want to make your jump for the big chair, but it can wait.

She hefts a particularly vicious looking rifle.

ALICE: We take them down. All of 'em. But no-one kills the girl but me. Got it?

Shouts of agreement mingle with a few bursts of excited gunfire into the air.

ALICE: Move out.

Act III, Scene XXVI

A glass of blood, standing on the reception desk. We pull out to reveal Melissa contemplating it, Jules beside her. Behind them a full-blown debate is going on between the adults and Grayson, though every so often a lingering glance will be directed toward the younger pair.

MELISSA: (softly) Before, when I drank it, God it was disgusting.

JULES: It didn't show.

MELISSA: Hey, I was trying to put you at ease. When you left the room I must have brushed and flossed about eight times. Our sink looked like it had been napalmed.

Jules laughs and kisses her tenderly. She smiles at him nervously.

JULES: You need to drink, Mel. The living skeleton look wouldn't work on you.

MELISSA: Large glass of blood for Hollywood celebs, stat.

She grasps the glass and raises it to her lips.

MELISSA: Cheers…

She gulps down the contents of the glass, slowly at first but with increasing speed. Once finished she replaces the glass on the desk…a little too emphatically. Shards of glass slide off in all directions.

MELISSA: Oops.

Jules tries to give her a reassuring look, but both become aware of the total silence from behind them. As if fixed to turntables, they face the eyes of the five watchers.

CORDELIA: OK. Gonna get interesting when someone gets a papercut around here.

The attention of the larger group shifts back to the matter at hand; Angel is last to drag his gaze from his twin protégés.

WESLEY: We've penetrated Wolfram & Hart's defences before, you seem to forget.

GRAYSON: And as such, you can be sure that you will not do so in the same fashion again. A new approach will be required.

GUNN: Someone mentioned flamethrowers a while ago.

CORDELIA: We've got other problems than Wolfram & Hart.

This is an unexpected comment, from an unexpected source. She rolls her eyes.

CORDELIA: Hello? Since when has Angel been Vision Boy?

WESLEY: She's right. Angel must be getting visions for a specific purpose.

GRAYSON: I wasn't informed of this.

CORDELIA: Oh, excuse us for not publishing rushes for the Watcher's Council. Maybe it had something to do with you trying to kill us all last time.

ANGEL: We need answers from the Powers. With the Oracles gone –

GRAYSON: There are other methods.

ANGEL: Hoping you'd say that. Let's hear them.

GRAYSON: You must leave the matter with me. Our resources are extensive, but spread rather thinly at the moment. It's the best I can do.

Angel and Wesley exchange a brief look. Wesley nods almost imperceptibly; this seems good enough for Angel to drop the matter.

GRAYSON: Fortunately, one such resource may of be more immediate use to us in our current problem with Wolfram & Hart. We have –

His mobile radio squeals in alarm, cutting off whatever he was about to add. Frowning, Grayson retrieves it from his belt, adjusting frequencies slightly.

GRAYSON: Say again?

The front windows of the hotel are promptly shattered by a hail of bullets. Everyone dives for cover where they can find it, desperately trying to get away from the flying glass and debris. Shouts and whoops of joy are heard outside, followed by the sound of many approaching feet.

CORDELIA: (screaming) I think he said you're all going to die…

END OF ACT III