by Nancy Holder
ME AGAIN
Honestly, gentle viewers, these
motivational speeches of hers get a
little long. I’ll take you back in
there a little later. In the in-between-time,
I thought you might
want to know a little about me, your
humble host. I’m a man with a
burden, a man with a dark past. You
see I was once a . . . Supervillain.
INT. SCIENCE LAB—DAY
In his fashionable suit and stylish sunglasses, Andrew completed the latest in a series of diabolical inventions intended to thwart the Slayer as his adoring sidekicks, Warren and Jonathan, raptly attended to his every word:
“Thus , the validity of the Bronsted-Debye-Huckel equation at low ionic strength has been amply tested and the charges on the reactant ions are well known, if their reagents are properly characters,” he concluded.
“What’ll it do to Buffy?” Warren was dying to know.
Andrew could barely stand how amazingly neat he was. “Make her . . . super-magnetic.”
“Wow,” Jonathan gasped. “She won’t be able to get out of her car.”
“And knives and other sharp things will fly at her,” Warren said, clearly stunned by Andrew’s super-genius.
“We could walk right by her and she wouldn’t be able to stop us,” Andrew elaborated.
“Unless we were wearing, like, metal belt buckles,” Warren pointed out, concerned. “ ’Cause then we’d stick to her.”
Andrew raised his chin. “In my plan, we are beltless.”
Jonathan and Warren took off their goggles and goggle-free, were goggle-eyed at their incredible leader.
“Wow,” Jonathan said, “you’re the best, Andrew.”
“Yep,” the hero-worshipping Jonathan added. “Good-looking, and smart, too.”
BACK TO BUFFY . . . OR NOT?
“. . . more than just a battle,” the Slayer was saying. “It’s going to be a battle like we’ve never seen before.”
Andrew murmured, “She’s not done. Even Willow looks bored, and she’s usually can take a lot of that stuff.”
Through the viewfinder, Kennedy gave Willow a shy caress on her beautifully proportioned lesbian arm.
“Oooh, do you see that? That’s important. Willow and Kennedy have been in a kind of a bad place lately, but things are looking up.
“You see, Kennedy pursued the reluctant Willow and won her heart, only to find herself frightened when she glimpsed the darkness that still lies within the witch’s mind. Side note: I once had my own personal encounter with Dark Willow.” [PRODUCTION NOTE: SEE IF MAGIC BOX SECURITY CAMERA CAUGHT ANY OF THIS. IT WAS WHEN SHE CAME AFTER US LAST YEAR.]
FLASHBACK TO MAGIC BOX—LAST YEAR
“Jonathan, Andrew,” Dark Willow said scarily. At least, her uncanny voice worked its desired effect upon Jonathan, who was weaker of will. Andrew stayed proud, and true . . .
“You boys like magics, don’t you?” Dark Willow intoned. Then she put out the lights and taunted them, saying, “Abracadabra.” Her soul-searing Death Spell rent the very fabric of time itself as it blasted toward them like a very cool CGI force created by noted Santa Monica–based wizard Loni Peristere. Terrorized, Jonathan ducked.
“Haltem,” Andrew said calmly, barely raising a finger.
The spell evaporated.
“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” Dark Willow conceded.
“That’s because we have power you can’t imagine,” Andrew explained kindly.
“We do?” Ah, that was from Jonathan, Andrew’s guileless protégé.
“You, Dark Willow, wield a force of mighty evil it is true, but you are new to the game, little one.”
She tried again. and he deflected her again with an idle wave of his hand..
“Damn,” Dark Willow blurted, not able to conceal her admiration. “That is one effective counter-spell.”
“Thank you, little one,” Andrew said, as Jonathan gazed worshipfully on.
BACK TO BUFFY . . . OR THE KITCHEN?
“I think she’s done talking,” Andrew announced. “That usually means she had to go to work. Let’s see what those little locusts left for breakfast, shall we?”
* * *
School was a madhouse, a madhouse. Kids fighting; shy girl starting to go invisible; girl rushing out of the girls’ room sobbing that the mirror said she was fat. “It said it!” she wept, running away.
Then a stressed-out boy was ranting about his trig exam, which covered three extra chapters, and his English paper and—
“I feel like I’m gonna explode!”
Uh-oh.
Buffy walked up to the boy and said, “You just need to relax, you know?” To his friends, she said, “You know, um, maybe one of you guys could give him a foot rub?”
Then she went in to see Robin, who was holding an ice pack to his head. He told her, “Someone threw a rock at me as I got out of my car. Didn’t get really get a good chance to see who.”
She took a Band-Aid from the open first-aid kit open on the office counter and prepared to stick it on his head. “Yeah, well, it could have been any of them,” she said. “Students, teachers . . . something is going on today.”
Robin grimaced as she taped on the bandage. “Yes, well, that occurred to me as I ducked the other two rocks.”
She nodded. “There’s a thing that happens here. In this school. Over the Hellmouth. Where the way a thing feels, it kind of starts being that way . . . for real. I’ve seen all these things before, just not all at once.”
He processed that. “So, what? It’s like hell’s a bustin’ out all over?”
ME HERE IN FRONT OF BIG BOARD, NODDING. THIS WILL BE A LOT LIKE PROFESSOR DR. EVERETT VON SCOTT IN ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW.
“Exactly,” Buffy said. “Being in a high school can feel like being at war, so now it’s true. The students feel like the teachers are out to get them. The Chess Club resents the French Club for taking the activities room, and well, everybody hates the cheerleaders. If we don’t do something about this, we’re going to have a riot on our hands. And a lot of other nasty stuff too.”
Ka-BLAM.
Brain matter splatted against the window.
Buffy said sadly, “He really should have had the foot rub.”
INT. SUMMERS’ HOUSE—DINING ROOM / FOYER / LIVING ROOM—DAY
MOI
Dawn is a typical American teenager.
Bubbly and sweet with a hunger for
fun and a smile that lights up the room.
DAWN
Hello.
MOI SOME MORE
Dawn used to be a key.
INSERT CLOSE-UP OF THE KEY ET TU, MOI
I have no idea what that means.
INT. LIVING ROOM AT BUFFY’S HOUSE—DAY
AND YET . . . MOI!
Hey, here’s something I think you’re going to be interested in.
* * *
Pan pass Kennedy and Willow making out passionately on the couch to show a . . . CLOSE-UP on the window behind the sofa.
YOU GUESSED IT: ME
Look at the fine work Xander did on replacing that window sash. You can’t even tell it’s new, it blends in so well. He’s extraordinary.
* * *
Buffy and Robin had spread blueprints all over his desk, working on the school blowups one by one.
“You’ve dealt with this before? I mean, you’ve seen stuff like this in the high school?”
She got a little nostalgic. “Well, sure. You know, swim team monsters or killer prom dogs. Again, not all at once. My guess? It’s that Seal thing in the basement. It’s like all the Hellmouth’s energy is trying to escape in that one little spot, and it’s getting all . . .”
“Focusy,” he finished.
“Careful,” she told him. “You’re starting to speak like me now.”
INT. LIVING ROOM AT BUFFY’S HOUSE—DAY [THIS IS XANDER AND ANYA INTERVIEW #1 FOR “BUFFY, THE SLAYER OF
THE VAMPEERS” OR ELSE: “BUFFY, THE SLAYER WHO KNEW NO FEAR.”]
ME
I understand that exactly one year ago today you left Anya at the altar. Any comment on that?
XANDER
Whoa, what the hell?
ANYA
What do you have to say for yourself one year later?
XANDER
I’ve apologized enough. That’s what I have to say.
ME
But you think it was something that called for an apology.
XANDER
Well, yes.
ME
So, then you don’t think it was the right then to do.
ANYA
Of course he doesn’t think it was the right thing to do!
XANDER
It was the right thing to do.
ANYA
What?!
ME
Interesting. I feel like we’re getting to something here.
XANDER
Look, Anya, if I’d married you, it would have always been against what I thought was best. It wouldn’t have worked.
ANYA
But-but we still spark! I get jealous of you, you get jealous of me! You still love me!
ME
Ooh, is that true, Xander? Do you still love her? (Oh, my God, I am better than Larry King!)
* * *
Buffy and Robin had moved down the basement . . . where, sure enough, the Seal of Danzalthar lay fully exposed in the dirt floor.
“I swear we just covered this thing up,” Buffy said.
“It doesn’t want to stay hidden any more,” Robin countered. “It wants to turn these kids into monsters and victims and who knows what.”
Buffy took a breath, let it out. “It’s more than that. I had a vision the other day.”
He was intrigued. “You have visions?”
She nodded. “Sometimes.”
Intrigued further. “How do you know they’re not just dreams?”
She smiled. “You’re running to catch the bus naked? That’s a dream. An army of vicious vampire creatures? That’s a vision. Also, I was awake.”
“A bus to where?” he teased. “I mean, an army of how many?
“Hundreds. Maybe hundreds of hundreds. All I know is that the last Ubervamp I faced crawled out of that very hole.”
He knelt on the Seal, and she came along for the ride, saying, “Willow did a search on the symbolic database, but it turns out everybody loves a good goat’s tongue. Rock groups, covens, and Greek cookbooks. She said she couldn’t narrow it down.”
He gave her a penetrating look. “And you trust her?”
She blinked. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I trust her?”
“I don’t know why any of you should trust one another,” he said. “You’ve all been evil at some point, right?”
Buffy shook her head. “No. Willow had a bad patch, but I’ve never been.”
His voice was growly in an evil way as he turned to her and said, “Evil is as evil does, and I know what you’re doing.” He stood, and his eyes glowed milky white. “You’re with that vampire, screwing that vampire, you filthy whore!”
He charged at her and she dodged him and he ran into he wall. Panting, he said, “Whoa. What happened?”
“I think it was controlling you,” she managed.
He was abashed . . . and worried.
“Buffy, we’ve got to get rid of this Seal. We’ve got to shut it down before it starts affecting everyone.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea who we should talk to,” Buffy ventured. “The guy that fed it its first drop of blood.”
As if on cue, a very cute little pink piglet chittered past them, scampering off into the shadows.
“God, I hope that’s not a student,” Wood murmured.
SPIKE, TAKE #1
Spike glared at the camera and realized he was being taped. He flicked his cigarette butt toward the lens and lunged toward it in a move that would make Randy Rude of the WWE PROUD!
“Thought I told you to piss off with that bloody camera. And here you are again with that thing in my face!” he thundered. “Sod off ’fore I rip your throat out and—”
CUT! BAD LIGHTING!
SPIKE, TAKE #2
Spike glared at the camera and realized he was being taped. He flicked his . . .
* * *
[Oh, my God, the tale of Xander and Anya must be told . . . over and over and over and over and over again!]
As they sat on the sofa, Xander said, “I mean, you were the one who didn’t want to keep seeing each other.”
Anya frowned. “And here’s where we hop on the merry-go-round of rotating knives. I blame you and you blame me and we both end up all cut to shreds. Please, just tell . . . do you still love me?” Her voice broke.
Xander nodded. “Yes. I still love you. I always will. I just don’t know if that means anything for us anymore.”
Anya said, “Well, I love you, too. I don’t know if that means anything, either.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Xander said tenderly. “I’m not going to find anyone out there like you, am I?”
“Doesn’t seem likely,” Anya replied.
“I guess I’m more replaceable, obviously.”
He’s talking about when she had sex with Spike!
“No. There’s no one like you, Xander. You were willing to stand up to danger, even when your hands had no weapons. You were ready to protect me with your life.”
Xander gazed at her. “I guess we fit together pretty good.”
“We fit together great.” She smiled back at him.
“You know,” Xander confessed, “sometimes I want you back in my life.”
She gazed at him tenderly. “I hope you know you never left my heart.”
And over and over and over AGAIN!
* * *
And then, gentle viewer, I was intruded upon!
Buffy and her handsome young principal friend-slash-sidekick burst into the basement. They talked so fast and urgent that someone who was trying to write down every word they sent would have a heck of a time of it unless they had gone to school to become a court reporter, or something.
“Heads up, Andrew. We’ve got to talk,” Buffy said to Andrew.
Robin said, “We just spent the day keeping a lid on a war.”
Andrew stood, excited, and said, “Oooh, that would be very exciting on tape!”
Buffy looked irritated as she crossed her arms and continued, all Miss Practical, “The school is out of control with energy from the Hellmouth. It’s time for you to help, Andrew.”
And here he was, Mr. Art. “Well, right now, I’m really more about the recording of the . . .”
“No,” she insisted, as firmly as a producer, whose job, let’s face it, is to say no. Look at Gareth Davies. “The Seal thing is your baby, and you have to get in there before it tears everything apart.”
* * *
Once in the basement of Sunnydale High School, lived a mama Bezoar who hatched some eggs that took over everybody’s minds and made them attack each other.
Variation on the theme, but with the volume pumped way up: the Seal of Danthalzar began to summon the students of the new school, and they answered, stumbling down the stairs and walking through the passages, to come upon the seal, kneel, and chant above it in Latin.
And it began to glow.
[PRODUCTION NOTE TO ME: WE COULD SHOOT THIS SCENE ON THE UNIVERSAL BACKLOT. THEY HAVE A VERY CUTE MEXICAN VILLAGE THERE. THE TRAM RIDE GOES THROUGH IT, DURING WHICH THERE IS A MOCK FLOOD TO SHOW HOW SPECIAL EFFECTS WORK. BUT WE COULD ASK THEM VERY NICELY TO GIVE US A FEW MINUTES TO SHOOT THIS NEXT SCENE, MAYBE WHEN EVERYONE IS HAVING LUNCH OR SOMETHING. WE’LL GET DAWN TO ASK. NO ONE COULD SAY NO TO HER. OR ELSE WE WILL ASK BUFFY TO THREATEN THEM.
BUT FIRST, THE SCARY MONTAGE/DREAM SEQUENCE]
It was Mexico, the dingy hideout of Andrew and Jonathan. They slept fitfully, tormented by horrible images: the Seal of Danthalzar; a Turok-han; a Bringer stabbin
g the Istanbulian Potential; the Cheese Man; the Turok-han reprise; cheese slices; the Frankfurtian Potential dying; the Turok-han again, even scarier; the Seal opening, more more more more. . . .
And a voice, vaguely reminiscent of the one in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland, booming “DEZ-day ah-BAH-ho tay DEV-or-ah.”
They woke up simultaneously . . . and not for the first time.
Jonathan was panting “Omigod,” and Andrew breathed, “Hay-sus.”
Tears formed in the tormented eyes of Jonathan as he said, “Desme abajo tay devorah. What does it mean? What does it mean?”
For a while, they had guessed that it had been part of the lost footage of Klaatu’s speech in The Day the Earth Stood Still, which had been excised because the censors thought it was blasphemous and was certain to upset the American audience. But they’d checked into that, and though the words have been close, they weren’t close enough.
Now Jonathan said, “Let’s try looking it up again in the morning in the dictionario. Holy cats, that was terrifying.”
Andrew nodded. “We’re fugitives, haunted by our past, tormented by a message we don’t understand.”
“We’re hunted men,” Jonathan concurred, “driven mad by forces beyond our understanding.”
“We’re men of hidden power,” Andrew continued, “tortured from within by . . . by a voice from out of nowhere.” (That sounds like the Disneyland guy’s voice. In fact, he is also the voice of Amtrak. This is especially evident when the train pulls into the Anaheim station . . .
Oh, Anaheim! How I miss you!)
“I don’t deserve this,” Jonathan blurted. “I wasn’t even that evil.”
“I thought you were evil,” Andrew assured him. As Jonathan glanced questioningly at him and they both sat up, Andrew said, “I respected your ideas for evil projects and I thought you had good follow-through.”
“Oh.” Jonathan got a little lift from that. “It’s nice that you noticed.”
CUT.
* * *
“Okay,” Willow said, “I think we’re getting a little off track here.”
In Buffy’s living room, Willow, Kennedy, the young and handsome Principal Wood, Spike, and La Buffeleta Sumprema were all staring at Andrew, who was supposed to be staring at a glowing memory crystal in order to evoke his memories about the Seal.
“I’m all tense,” Andrew murmured. “Can’t I have a cool, refreshing Zima?”