Sins Of The Father

by Larbo

An alternate history - what would have happened had the gang never gone to Pylea? In this story, Angel gains an adopted son and daughter and faces off against Wolfram & Hart.

2. Act II

ACT II, SCENE I

The hospital morgue. An orderly's unconscious body is our first stop. We cut to the group, standing over the body of Jules. Angel is present, but stands at a distance, and Gunn is covering him with a stake at the ready. Melissa is pleading with Wesley.

MELISSA: You're saying he's gonna wake up? Not be dead? But you're gonna kill him before that happens?

WESLEY: Melissa, it's what must be done…

MELISSA: No!

She stands over the corpse protectively. Cordelia licks her lips, and nods to Wesley.

CORDELIA: I know this is difficult...

MELISSA: Shut up. Just shut up.

CORDELIA: Jules is dead. Even if this…(indicates corpse)…gets up and knows your name, calls out to you, it's not him. Jules is gone. But unless we do what we have to do, some thing will be able to use his body, his name, his memories, to...to do things. To kill. To feed.

MELISSA: So he'll be a vampire, so what? He's a vampire (points to Angel).

WESLEY: Angel is a special case. He…he has a soul. He's unique amongst vampires in that regard. He's not controlled by the demon.

GUNN: (dangerously) At least, until tonight it did.

ANGEL: I told you, I can't explain wh-

GUNN: Yeah. You said. Instinctive action. Brought about by somethin' you saw in that vision of yours. One, you don't get visions. Two, makin' dead kids into bloodsucking demons ain't exactly chapter 1 of the hero textbook.

MELISSA: I won't let you kill him.

GUNN: Dammit Mel! I saw what they did to my sister with my own eyes, so don't you ever think you know what you're talking about with this, do you hear me?! It's a whole lot easier putting that through his heart now while he's cold than when she's looking at you the same way she-

He breaks off. There is a moment of silence. Gunn inhales quickly, angry at himself for going so close to a complete breakdown. He looks at Angel with something approaching hatred.

GUNN: I trusted you with these kids. Even after all Darla crapola you pulled on us last year, stabbing us in the back, you were the first person I thought of when I thought to myself who do I want on their side?

Angel makes no reply.

GUNN: Jules is dead. You didn't protect him, but that's not the worst. Now I have to kill him all over again, and doing it will mean she ain't never gonna trust me again. And if she don't trust me, then it's only a matter of time before someone gets to her, too. So she's as good as. You can't even tell me why you did it, either.

CORDELIA: Wait. Wait. Mel, step away from him. Wes, you too.

WESLEY: Cordelia, in a matter of moments-

CORDELIA: I know. So let her see him. We'll be here to protect her. Let her see what he's become.

MELISSA: (hopefully) You'll let him wake up?

GUNN: No! Stake him, now!

WESLEY: I think Cordelia might have a point. Gunn, you said yourself…trust is an issue here. He won't be able to conceal the demon, the urge to feed, not this soon. It'll make it easier.

GUNN: You had better be right-

At that moment, Jules' corpse abruptly spasms, causing Melissa and Cordelia to shriek and Wesley to take a long step backward. Gunn is reluctant to watch, but, like everyone else, has a morbid fascination with the unfolding process. Jules' entire body shakes with the shock of being alive. His eyes are wild, he emits short gasps of pain and takes in whooping breaths (out of a force of habit, we assume). When the initial stages of high disorientation subside he focuses on the other people in the room, stopping immediately when he catches sight of Melissa.

JULES: Mel! Oh God! It's you!

She bursts into tears of joy, and they attempt to come together, only for Mel's advance to be halted squarely by Cordelia and Wesley's firm grip.

CORDELIA: Let me go…

JULES: Leave her aloooone-

He staggers backward in shock as his anger works as a catalyst to morph his human facial features into those of the vampire. Mel gasps in horror.

JULES: What's…what's happening to me…

CORDELIA: Need this?

She holds up a compact mirror. We see from Jules' point of view; he looks into the glass and sees nothing but the wall behind him. Cordelia looks grim.

JULES: Where am I? This is a nightmare…it's gotta be…can't be real.

He clutches at his stomach in pain, doubling over. Seeing this, Mel is torn between an urge to get to him and her new unease. Wesley has his crossbow aimed and ready.

ANGEL: It's the feeding urge. Never stronger than now. He'll attack.

WESLEY: (to Melissa) Right now he wouldn't think twice about feeding from you.

MELISSA: Jules, tell them they're wrong.

Jules lashes out at a nearby wall with frustration. His fist smashes a good-sized hole in the concrete. Astonished, he looks at his hand and flexes it experimentally.

MELISSA: Jules!

He looks at her, his demonic countenance remaining, his yellow eyes burning and smiles slowly. He takes a step forward. Wesley readies himself to pull the trigger-

JULES: Feed from you? What the hell are you talking about?

His features morph back into human again.

JULES: Did anyone else see me hit that wall? Was that not wicked-cool?

An incredulous silence.

MELISSA: J-boy! I knew you wouldn't let me down!

JULES: (grinning) Are you telling me I'm a vampire or something now? And what, this is s'posed to make me all 'chow-down-on-my-tightest-amigo', is it?

GUNN: What the hell is going on…

WESLEY: It's a trick! He's trying to gain our trust! Back!

Jules looks at him quizzically. Wesley waves the crossbow in a menacing way. We cut from this to another perspective on the morgue, a few tables away.

Another corpse covered with a sheet twitches…

JULES: What are you gonna do, shoot me? What's going on?

CORDELIA: Oh, don't try to pull the 'I'm not an evil vampire' wool over our eyes, fang junior! If I had a dollar for every vampire who's pulled the Mr Innocent on me when he's surrounded, I'd…(frustrated, she turns to Angel)…you said he'd be nice and evil, and it'd make things simpler! Oh, this is turning out to be a swell night for you all round!

ANGEL: Actually I think it was you who-

CORDELIA: Don't even think about taking that attitude with me! If you hadn't-

WESLEY: Look out!

Jules rushes him. Wesley squeezes off a shot, but it's not enough to slow Jules' approach. Gunn swings his bow around…and abruptly takes in several important facts. Firstly, Cordelia is in his direct line of fire. Secondly, there's someone new on the scene-another vampire to be exact, fangs bared, and totally naked, until very recently an ex-corpse like Jules.

Thirdly, and most vitally, Jules' attack was not directed at Wesley at all, but rather at the new vampire, who had been about to sink his teeth into an unawares Cordelia. The would-be assailant is now pinned to the floor under Jules, who struggles to keep him contained.

JULES: (panicked) ah…a little help?!

It is Angel who meets the call, grabbing a stake from the unresisting hand of Cordelia and driving it into the chest of the vampire on the floor, who disintegrates with appropriate speed. Angel extends a hand to Jules, who has been unceremoniously deposited on the now-ashen surface, and pulls him to his feet. Both turn around to face the astonished looks of the assembled group.

JULES: A thank-you for your heroics might be nice, guys.

ANGEL: (amazed, a slight smile) You've got a soul.

WESLEY: He's got a soul.

CORDELIA: He's got a soul.

GUNN: He's got a soul.

MELISSA: He's got an arrow through his leg.

Jules looks down. He smiles faintly…

JULES: Would ya look at that…

…and passes out.

ACT II, SCENE II

There is a full-scale conference going on at the reception. Angel is tending to Jules' leg, which is now partially covered in bandages. The arrow has been removed. Jules is still unconscious.

WESLEY: This is unprecedented. Absolutely unique, in centuries of vampire history.

He produces a small, glass sphere from a velvet box.

MELISSA: Oh, do you get an award?

CORDELIA: Oh please. This is (she waves a hand airily) obviously an ancient orb of some kind, used to test (pause) for the presence or absence of souls in a living being, right?

WESLEY: Actually, it's an orb, and it's used to test for the pres-

He stops. Cordelia absorbs the evident fact that Wesley was fully expecting her to be wrong. She folds her arms and regards him with a 'go on…' look. Wesley coughs.

WESLEY: Yes, very good.

He takes the orb and passes it within touching distance of Cordelia. The orb pulses hungrily with blue light from within, once.

WESLEY: Blue! Astonishing.

Cordelia frowns, and waits for an explanation, but Wesley has already moved on. He tests Gunn and Angel-both provoke the orb into flashes, of different hues. Angel's "pulse" is blinding. He casts a slightly smug look at Gunn.

Wesley comes to the reclining body of Jules. He inhales, and brings the orb closer…sure enough, right on cue, it pulses.

WESLEY: It's true. He does have a soul.

CORDELIA: All right, see-I'm confused here. I'm thinking it was kind of a rule-get bitten by big scary vampire, bit of icky, very symbolic blood-exchanging action, wake up all dead and fangy and eat-your-mother?

ANGEL: It's me. It has to be.

WESLEY: You've never sired another vampire since the curse.

ANGEL: (troubled look) Yeah...

No-one notices the look.

GUNN: So any vampire with a soul who makes…sires…another vamp, they get a soul too?

WESLEY: It's impossible to say. (off Gunn's look) Before Angel, a vampire with a soul was a contradiction, an impossibility. In recorded history there has only been one instance, and he's with us in this room. (mulls this over) Actually, that's rather surprising…gypsies are steeped in tradition, you'd think they would have tried something similar at least once before, or since…

ANGEL: Maybe they did. But the odds of surviving that curse for very long are almost nil, Wes. It's designed to drive a vampire crazy with guilt, send them over the edge, cause them to commit suicide or get killed pretty quickly.

CORDELIA: So with you, it only kinda worked?

Angel slams a fist into the reception desk.

ANGEL: Dammit!

CORDELIA: All right…all right…maybe you're not over the edge…

ANGEL: There was a way out for her. I was this close to doing it…but she'd accepted her fate, she said…

The group are puzzled. Jules begins to rouse from his slumber; only Mel notices this. She makes her way over to him.

GUNN: Her?

WESLEY: Darla.

Gunn and Cordelia groan in unison. Cordelia is relieved to see the awakening Jules.

ANGEL: …I could have prevented it all…but she was ready-

CORDELIA: (very loudly) Jules! Hey look, he's up…(takes Angel by the arm)…you, Mr Experience, you take him away and explain to him what's happened. Now.

JULES: God…I could eat a horse.

CORDELIA: Good! Excellent! Just keep thinking horse. As in animal. Horse good, people bad.

Jules stares at her for a moment. He tilts his head to one side slightly, watching her. Cordelia grows ever more uneasy at this.

CORDELIA: What? What are you looking at?

JULES: Your neck looks so good…

Cordelia leaps back. Jules bursts into a fit of laughter. Melissa slaps him good-naturedly on the shoulder, laughing too. She seems almost dazed with joy; bare hours after watching him expire slowly covered in tubes and peppered in apparatus, he is now making jokes, his broken arms have healed, and he seems little the worse for being shot through the leg with an arrow not so long beforehand.

The rest are not so joyful. Gunn and Cordelia in particular seem uneasy. Wesley, ever the student of lore, has been taken in by the sheer fascination of what has happened. Angel, meanwhile, strikes us as being relieved firstly-this unexpected twist has served to extricate him from a very, very deep hole.

Following Cordelia's suggestion, he moves to the couch while Jules is lying and swoops for the boy, picking him up unceremoniously and depositing him on his feet.

ANGEL: You. Me. Talk. Now.

ACT II, SCENE III

Angel's office. Angel sits behind his desk, motions for Jules to occupy the other seat-needlessly, since Jules has already flopped down, his legs extending to one side over the leather. Angel notes the confident gesture with a very slight eyebrow raise.

ANGEL: Do you want to start?

JULES: Well, I'm not too sure what this is supposed to be.

ANGEL: I've sired other vampires before. It's a pretty big thing. The sire is bound by ancient code to instruct his new brother-or sister-in the ways of our race.

Jules takes this in, though he seems a little puzzled. He's not willing to show this.

JULES: You're gonna teach me how to be a vampire?

ANGEL: No. If I were to teach you that, I'd haul you outside and ask you to take your pick, so I could watch your killing style, supervise your first feed. Then maybe we'd track down some of your family, put to rest some of those buried hate issues. It's standard practice; go for the parents, the siblings, the children. It's what I did.

Angel pauses. Jules seems taken aback. Angel leans forward and speaks very softly.

ANGEL: What? You're shocked? What did you think I was atoning for-Grand Theft Auto? Don't be under any illusions about the family you've joined. The only thing we value is death. The only thing we enjoy is fear. Our habitat is terror, we feed without mercy, we bring death and we bring pain. And we do it gladly. And we do it again, and again. For centuries.

Jules is silent. He stares at Angel, at a loss for words.

ANGEL: You can call that lesson one. (Pause) Sit up straight.

Jules adjusts his posture obediently, removing his legs from their draped position and turning his body to face Angel. We're not sure if Angel has captured his attention or if he doesn't dare do anything else…

ANGEL: Right now Wesley is out there going through every book he has. There was only meant to be one vampire with a soul. Me. That was my thing. Earlier tonight, I had a vision. That's Cordelia's thing, not mine. I saw that I'd fail to save you. I knew you'd die. And…I can't explain how…earlier, when you were dying as I carried you, I knew I had to do what I did.

JULES: You lost me.

ANGEL: This isn't some accident, Jules. I don't know why, but congratulations, there's a place for you in the big cosmic plan. You were destined to become a vampire with a soul. You must have a part to play.

JULES: What are you saying? That I've been conscripted into some all-mighty eternal struggle? My entire life has led up to this, no matter what choices I made, I'd have ended up here, undead?

ANGEL: (briskly) Yeah, pretty much. So now you're going to have to become a crime-fighting vampire superhero, just like me. I'll start your training tomorrow, we can have you tackling some villains inside a week. I'll get you a garishly coloured sidekick uniform.

Jules' mouth opens and closes in confusion. Angel seems nonchalant.

ANGEL: Well, good meeting.

He makes to stand up.

JULES: Wait just one damn minute here! I've been in control of my life for nineteen years, I'm sure as hell not gonna bow to some cosmic plan! Sidekick my ass! I didn't ask for this!

ANGEL: You don't want it?

JULES: No!

ANGEL: Good. Then stay in the hotel, do exactly as I tell you, and I mean exactly, and you won't have to.

JULES: Huh? What…what about my destiny as a part of the eternal struggle?

ANGEL: (waves a hand) I'll cover for you.

JULES: Just stay here in this rathole for the rest of my undead life?

ANGEL: No. There's a way…(he is reluctant to say more, but Jules is clearly in need of some sort of information) you can go back.

JULES: To human?

ANGEL: To eight-track tapes. What do you think?

JULES: Yeah. Sure.

He seems a little dazed, and he should do-Angel has just manipulated him expertly.

Act II, Scene IV

Downtown L.A, one of the lower-rent neighbourhoods; so low-rent, in fact, that only rats who are down on their luck infest this place. An abandoned warehouse (where else?) is currently playing host to a gangland meeting. Two armed camps face each other, and there is a stark contrast between them. The first is made up of typical street heavies, dressed to the nines…well, elevens in casual togs and designer jewellery so frequent and thick that it looks like a small tornado has whipped a man through Fort Knox. At the head of the group is Canon, the leader. To mark himself apart from his underlings, he is dressed from head to toe in black. He's not exactly original.

The other group is very out of place, given the surroundings. They've just emerged from two limousines which, if left unattended, would have a "not-stolen" shelf life comparable to the amount of time it would take a teenage boy to flick through a home shopping catalogue to the lingerie section. There are five of them, all male, all dressed in suits, all packing handgun shoulder bulges, and their leader is similarly adorned. His name is Devasson, and he works for-

CANON: Wolfram & Hart.

DEVASSON: I see you've heard of us. Good-our poster campaign targeting dark alleys and sewage pipes wasn't a total waste.

Canon's group growl at this jibe. If it were possible, you'd hear fingers scraping across holstered, barely concealed gunbarrels.

CANON: You got a lot of nerve, coming to a place like this. I like that. It-it shows…what's the word I'm looking for here, college boy?

DEVASSON: Stupidity?

Canon clicks his fingers.

CANON: Le mot juste.

If Devasson is surprised by this surprising touch of education, he conceals it behind a broad and confident smile. Canon merely responds with a look which has a faint touch of rebuke-don't judge me again, he's saying.

DEVASSON: Nonsense my friend. We could have a little (waves hand) bullet exchange-and-mart here, sure, but what would it gain us? As I see it, and I'm not wrong, you have your "gang" and your "turf" and I have mine.

CANON: Except I don't see many people starving to death on your turf.

DEVASSON: And I don't sell them drugs when what they need is food.

They regard each other.

DEVASSON: Aren't you going to say touché?

CANON: You're the one who came here. So the way I see it, I'm going to listen to what you and your suits have to say, and then I'm going to decide whether to just say what the hell and put a bullet through your head.

The moment of threatening silence is rather spoiled by a few of Canon's men beginning to hum the tune from the song in question. Canon moves his head very slightly. The humming stops instantly.

DEVASSON: I'll make this a power lunch meeting, shall I, and get to the point. Wolfram & Hart like to keep up-to-date with events around the city, one might say especially in places like this. We know that you've had certain difficulties recently when an opportunity to increase your finances slipped through your fingers.

CANON: (a little uneasy) You knew about that?

Devasson smiles broadly, displaying a row of perfect white teeth.

DEVASSON: Maybe you're not as familiar with our firm as you thought, Mr Canon. But that's immaterial-you planned to extort money from a wealthy couple using two young people who would pose as their son and daughter, lost from birth. It was a con trick. Except that it…kind of…(he smiles)…went belly-up, didn't it?

CANON: All right, so you know. Don't bore me, talk.

DEVASSON: We happen to know where the two rascals in question are holding up. As…well, as fate would have it, I suppose, for lack of a better term, they're being protected by someone of great interest to us.

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. (he steps forward and fairly spits the next words) At. Great. Length.

Devasson grimaces.

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: (shrugs) 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: (softly now)It seems you don't know us at all, Mr Canon.

As Canon is about to reply, the limousine doors open. Canon's men step back-until this point they had enjoyed a slight advantage. Not any more. That isn't the reason they step back, though. Each and every new participant in the standoff who emerges from the vehicles is a seven-foot tall warrior demon, red-eyed and blue-skinned, growling with what sounds awfully like hunger. They flank Devasson to his left and right. He smiles benignly, enjoying the moment.

CANON: So it's true about all the supernatural crap. I've ran into a few vamps in my time, employed the odd scaly assassin…I never knew they ran that big.

DEVASSON: You should see them when they're past the infant stage.

Canon's eyes bulge. His men are growing more and more restless, and noisily so.

CANON: You stopped talking. Keep talking. I'm listening here.

DEVASSON: Very well. Wolfram & Hart are never willing to pass up on a happy coincidence. We will keep a close eye on your brats on your behalf. When the time is right, and it may well be soon, we will of course hand them over to you to do with as you wish, as many times as you wish, it's your business. In return, you are not to interfere with our business in any way.

CANON: And just, exactly, what is your business?

Devasson leans back on the bonnet of his limo. He grins again.

DEVASSON: His name is Angel…

Act II, Scene V

A glass of blood. We pull back from it to see Jules' face, inches from the glass. He looks extremely ill. Angel stands behind him.

ANGEL: Not hungry?

JULES: Starving. Why can't I just eat regular food, for God's sake?

ANGEL: Regular food won't sustain you. If you don't drink, and drink regularly, your skin will start to shed.

JULES: Is that all? I'll moisturise.

Wesley appears. He takes in what's going on.

ANGEL: I mean 'shed' as in 'drop off'. At least being a vampire means you look human. Trying to pass for normal is a little more difficult when you're a living skeleton. Besides, the hunger would drive you insane. Wes, we need to talk.

WESLEY: I thought as much. You're not going to leave him, are you?

JULES: Aren't I ever gonna get some trust going around here?

WESLEY: (annoyed) What I meant was that this must be a difficult time for you. It would help to have a supportive face around.

Jules is abashed. Before he can apologise verbally Melissa enters the room too, having obviously been listening outside.

MELISSA: I'll stay with him. I think I know him pretty well… (she winks, Jules grins)

ANGEL: (in best 'rebuking parent' tone) I want to see that blood gone by the time I come back.

With a nod to Wesley, they exist. Melissa picks up the glass and peers into its contents with disgust, but a fair bit of morbid fascination too.

MELISSA: Yummy.

Jules sits down heavily. She flops down beside him, the glass resting in her hand still.

JULES: This is nuts, Mel. I'm not sure I can handle all this.

MELISSA: Are you crazy? Jules, you were dead. Stone cold without the Steve.

Jules is unsettled, unsurprisingly. He cannot bring himself to look straight at her.

JULES: I've been thinking about that a lot, too.

MELISSA: Did you see anything? Anyone? Come on Jules…not one person in a million goes through what happened to you. Fill me in!

JULES: I didn't see anything. No tunnels. No bright light. Not even Charlton Heston.

MELISSA: Oh…well…maybe that's because you were, y'know, only temporary dead, kinda. Waiting to come back.

JULES: Angel says it's all some destiny crap. I was meant to come back. He's working on a way to make me human again. Can't come soon enough (he shivers).

Melissa is silent. Jules notices this. She stands up and faces him, in deep thought.

MELISSA: Punch the wall, Jules. And don't ask me why…ssh…just do it.

JULES: Wh-

MELISSA: Punch the damn wall!

Jules' fist lashes out. Plaster and dust fly up as a large chunk of concrete is pulverised beneath his hand. He grunts with effort to remove his hand from the hole he's just created.

JULES: Damn, damn…I hope no-one heard that…

Melissa steps forward to peer into the hole. She's clearly very excited.

MELISSA: If you'd had that power when we were on the streets…

JULES: Yeah. The bullets-can't-kill-you thing would have made me sleep easier nights too. If I slept nights now, that is.

MELISSA: So let me get this. You're invulnerable to bullets, you've got super strength, you don't need air or food, you're-

JULES: Stop.

MELISSA: What?

JULES: I know you, Mel. Don't do this. Don't think this.

MELISSA: How can I not think this? All our lives we've been running scared from one group of bastards or another, haven't we? Now you don't need to run from anyone, or anything.

JULES: (bitterly) Yeah, except daylight.

MELISSA: Come on, Jules. You know as well as I do, there are two types of people in LA-those who come out at night, and those who don't. Besides…I always thought that night was more interesting than day, anyway. The dark's got more layers.

JULES: I'm not human.

MELISSA: You've got a soul. See me splitting hairs? Look how everyone treats Angel, and he used to be a maniac, from what I hear. Now he's a hero. You're in the same position he's in.

JULES: What? You saying I could do what Angel says I was 'destined' to do and become this force for good?

MELISSA: Like hell-leave that to the heroes. I'm saying you've got the power to actually get yourself a good shot at a decent life, and you're a damn fool if you let Angel take it away from you before you at least explore it.

Seeing Jules is agonising, Mel presses home the point with all the manipulative skill Angel showed bare moments earlier.

MELISSA: Jules, I'm saying this because I care for you. Give yourself a shot-you've come back from the dead with this amazing gift, these great powers…it'd be (she laughs slightly) well, a sin, to pass up this opportunity, right?

JULES: What about you?

Melissa grins slowly. She lowers her head to stare at the glass of blood. Jules follows her gaze, a questioning expression on his face.

MELISSA: I'll be right beside you…

With that, she drinks a long gulp. Jules calls out in shock and alarm, but Melissa lowers the glass and raises her hand, indicating she's all right. Her mouth is red. She seems more than faintly nauseous, but still with that dangerous edge of excitement.

MELISSA: …all the way.

She proffers him the glass. Jules takes it from her numbly. He brings it to his lips, hesitates, takes a deep breath, and begins to drink, his eyes tightly shut. After one gulp, he tips the glass back, halting the flow. His eyes open, and his tongue extends from his mouth, tasting the blood on his chin. Still silent, he tilts the glass forward again, draining the remaining blood greedily, hungrily.

We see Melissa's smile, broad, framed from her own crimson lips…

Act II, Scene VI

Wesley and Angel are having their meeting, in Wesley's room.

WESLEY: My God. And you've never told anyone?

ANGEL: Not until now. It was too painful a memory.

WESLEY: I can imagine…but during this…day that never was…you were fully…?

ANGEL: Human. Yes. Uncursed, and human. Walk in sunlight, sense of taste, reflection, heartbeat.

WESLEY: The blood of a Mohra demon. No wonder the species is rare.

ANGEL: That's what I figured. Vampires must have been trying to make them extinct for millennia now.

Wesley, typically, has produced four or five large volumes seemingly from mid-air. He begins flicking frantically through the first.

WESLEY: They've all but accomplished that goal, I'm afraid. Although...there were reports of pockets of Mohra activity deep in the Appalachians around a year ago.

ANGEL: Get on it, Wes. I don't want Jules to be a vampire any longer than he has to.

WESLEY: I'm sure he feels the same way.

ANGEL: Yeah. Now he does...

Act II, Scene VII

Outside the Karaoke Bar. The entire gang (this includes Jules and Mel) get out of Angel's car and approach the entrance. For the first time, we see that, just like any other establishment, the bar has bouncers. Presumably in an attempt not to attract attention, they're human. They're also enormous.

WESLEY: I'm a little uncomfortable bringing these two into this place.

MELISSA: (bored) Scared it'll have a bad influence on us, I suppose?

CORDELIA: Wow-did you ever get that the wrong way around.

Cordelia flashes an impudent smile at Melissa. The group reaches the doors. Angel makes to go through, but the bouncers close ranks abruptly, and unexpectedly.

ANGEL: Problem?

BOUNCER #1: No kids. Sorry.

GUNN: See, I'm confused here. Isn't this the place where if you ask for a Bloody Mary, you gotta specify the type of blood?

BOUNCER #2: We cater to a range of clientele, yes.

BOUNCER #1: Overage clientele.

BOUNCER #2: Can't have kids drinking in here.

BOUNCER #1: Might give the place a bad rep.

BOUNCER #2: Might attract the wrong crowd.

They lapse into silence. The group digests this. There's really nothing all that unusual about the behaviour of the two doormen; it's simply the way of their ilk worldwide, whether guarding demonic establishments or not. It comes from absolute, unshakable faith that they are about as likely to be bested in physical confrontation as a small moon.

GUNN: The wrong what?!

JULES: Guys, guys, relax.

He steps forward, arms outstretched to quell the tension, and grins at the doormen, who leer back casually.

JULES: Obviously these gentlemen need to see my I.D.

The doormen exchange glances. By the time this is completed and they resume leering at Jules, he's now sporting full vampire face. He smiles in a vaguely threatening way. We cut to inside the bar. The group move to an empty table beside the stage where a complement of swamp demons are belting out "Wild Thing". Jules and Melissa must be prodded along forcefully as they're so fascinated by the canvas of weird that they've entered into-demons of all shapes and sizes surround them, but neither seems afraid. Angel orders at the bar, then spots the Host drifting aimlessly and genially through his citizens as usual, and waves him over.

HOST: Well! I didn't know it was coupon day! And who might these little scamps be!

Jules and Melissa flash him their Grade A hostile simmering look, the kind that will usually turn well-meaning adults into piles of recalcitrant ash. As this is the Host, though, it's ineffective.

HOST: Ouch-so much angst coming out of these two that it's more like Dawson's Ocean than Creek over here, and it doesn't take an empath to sense that, I can tell ya. We need to talk, big fella-unless you came here to show off your family album-can you imagine that? (he hits Angel playfully on the shoulder) I think I hear the brooding of little Angels over there…come on.

They walk away, leaving behind two incredulous teenagers.

JULES: Was he real?

CORDELIA: (snorts) Wait til you hear him do Moulin Rouge.

A waiter sets down the round of drinks. Melissa stares at her lemonade with disgust. Beside Jules is set a large glass of blood, topped off with a paper umbrella. Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia scrutinise him, without wanting to make it seem obvious that they're doing so. Jules notices nonetheless.

JULES: Oh…darn…another glass of blood. (hollowly) Hate the stuff.

With mock reluctance, he raises the glass and takes a sip. His eyes bulge, and he takes three long gulps before being kicked soundly under the table by Melissa. Looking guilty, he sets the glass down.

MELISSA: So brave.

JULES: (shaking his head, pained) Yes. It's hell..

The three adults exchange sceptical looks.

GUNN: Yeah, well, just go easy on the stuff, kid. Not only is it disgusting, it's twenty bucks a glass.

We cut to the Host and Angel.

ANGEL: I need to know why the Powers That Be wanted me to sire him. I have to know what plans they had for him, what they wanted him to do.

HOST: Uh huh. Why?

ANGEL: I knew you were gonna ask that. Why do you think?

HOST: So you can perform whatever function he was designed for himself, right?

ANGEL: He's a kid. I'm a champion. I'm the one who's job it is to fight the good fight. He's an innocent in all of this-I don't care what the Powers wanted him to do as a vampire with a soul, he's not doing it.

HOST: This big smog-filled hole isn't big enough for the both of ya, is that it?

ANGEL: (annoyed) No.

HOST: You're not unique anymore, ya big lug. It's the way of the world. At one time it was one girl in every generation; and by that I'm not referring to your dating record-

ANGEL: He doesn't have anything to atone for.

HOST: He's no angel, Angel.

ANGEL: I know. That's what I'm afraid of.

HOST: Ahhhh. Now we're getting somewhere. Go on…

Angel struggles to form the words, but it's clear that these thoughts have been nibbling at him for some time. He casts a furtive glance over at the table, where Jules and Melissa seem enthralled by their surroundings.

ANGEL: He has the power to do a lot of damage. Having a soul doesn't mean you have to use it-if he's got nothing to atone for, no guilt, then what's to stop him using what he has for his own gain?

HOST: You.

ANGEL: What?

HOST: Honestly-sometimes I think that eating something which congeals and crusts over pretty quickly and nothing else has a bad effect on you vamps. Has it really not occurred to you that the best way to make sure Junior over there doesn't go the way of the no-soul brigade is to pass on the things you've learned as a champion to him?

Angel is silent.

HOST: Call me Mr Lip-Synch in the ways of vampire lore here, but isn't that what a sire does? Passes on his skills to those he bestows with his blood?

ANGEL: This is different-

HOST: Yes, but so are you. Now you might get this blood of a Mohra demon-and incidentally, can you throw a little of that stuff my way, makes for some killer shooters-but probably not for a while. You took these kids in to protect them. Well, do more than that. Teach them.

ANGEL: Who am I to teach them?

HOST: Maybe you'll find out along the way.

Angel absorbs this. The Host recognises that a neutral silence on the idea is about the best he's going to get. He pats Angel on the shoulder and flashes him one of his least dazzling, but most sincere, smiles.

Angel continues to stand there, looking a little awkward. The Host's smile dies slowly.

HOST: (sighs) You're gonna sing aren't you.

Act II, Scene VIII

The Karaoke Bar, later that night. Two seven-foot scaly creatures warble the final bars of 'Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now' and leave the stage locked in a passionate embrace. Jules and Melissa are in fits of laughter, and seem to be having a great time. Jules wipes his mouth with his sleeve. The Host leaps onto stage and does his usual compere routine.

HOST: Give it up for the underworld's answer to Ike and Tina-except without quite as much mindless violence-Zikklar and his lovely mate Grofab, everyone. Whew! This is turning out to be one of those nights-I can feel it in my horns.

He scans the audience, and his gaze alights on the Angel party.

HOST: How about a volunteer? Come on, people-grab a mike or take a hike…

Melissa grins over at Jules. He gives her a 'what, me?' look. Cordelia slaps him encouragingly on the shoulder and winks at him. He grins at her, wiping the smile from Melissa's face (unnoticed), and nervously takes the stage. As he talks to the Host, we stay with the remainder of the assembled group at the table.

MELISSA: He's always wanted to do this. Have any of you ever-?

Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia and Angel all look at each other for a long, long moment.

ALL: No.

MUSIC: 'Mr Writer', The Stereophonics

JULES: (sings) You line 'em up. forgot your shoes / Your own name's on your wall, and you should have known / You fly around in planes that bring you down…

Nervous, a little halting at first, he gains confidence when the crowd remain respectfully silent, and his performance improves. He's actually quite good, and when the song hits its rapid series of crescendos, he handles it well. Conversation dies across the bar as we move from table to table, demons soulfully nodding their heads to the mournful beat, swaying to the melodies, their eyes closing. Back at Angel's table, it is equally silent. Melissa is spellbound by the performance, her hand up at her mouth, her head swaying only slightly.

MELISSA: So tone-deafness isn't a part of the whole 'vampire' deal!

CORDELIA: (looking idly at Angel) News to us, too.

Our first sight of the Host, then, is a total shock. He's horrified about something. When Jules finishes his performance, however, he manages to snap out of this frozen terror and do his routine all over again. Before he can speak at the stage, however, Jules accepts the cheers from the audience, and laughs at the whoops and hollers of admiration from Melissa.

HOST: Worth every whoop! All right, we'll take a break from performers for a while, all cocktails half price at the bar until the next police siren goes pas-

There is a stampede to the bar which drowns out his next words. His patrons are not fools-this is Los Angeles after all. He leaps lightly from the stage to stand by Jules, who's just retaken his seat and is flushed with exhilaration.

HOST: Talk about baring your soul-that was just about indecent exposure young man.

JULES: Huh?

WESLEY: The Host can pick up psychic messages from anyone who's singing.

MELISSA: What happens if you want to read someone who's totally tone deaf?

All eyes swivel in one direction.

ANGEL: What?

Diplomatic coughs all round.

ANGEL: (sulkily) They don't have to be singing well. Just singing. OK?

JULES: What'd you get from me?

We see the Host is struggling with some internal dilemma. Clearly he saw something pretty major, but, as on previous occasions, sometimes the best thing to do is not to be totally honest right away with messages about destiny.

HOST: Nothing about a recording contract-travesty or what, I ask you. You've got a lot of big decisions coming up, young man. How you deal with them, well that's up to you and you alone. I'll tell ya this, though, smoky tones-make the right choice.

WESLEY: That's a little ambiguous…

JULES: It's total bull!

HOST: Hold up, little fella. Turn that Krakatoa into Old Faithful. Just remember that I didn't say make the easy choice. I said make the right choice.

JULES: Or else…?

HOST: (shrugs) Who knows! That's what makes this destiny business fun, babe.

He looks over at the bar, and winces.

HOST: Me and my big yap. (shouts) Anyone caught drinking the barstaff will be asked to leave the premises!

Act II, Scene IX

After the relative calm of the last couple of scenes, the opening to this should come as an abrupt shock-we're plunged into a full-scale battle. As we duck and dive around the bodies desperately fighting for supremacy, little clues are dropped; a stake is flashed into view for a moment, a vampire crumbles to dust, we see a man screaming as his lifeblood is drained by a grinning vamp. It is pretty close to utter chaos.

The locale appears to be very much back in downtown LA territory, Gunn central in other words. After a few brief moments of skirmish, a half-circle of vampires advance slowly on a rapidly shrinking group of humans, backing against a chainlink fence with no obvious escape routes. The man at the head of the retreating humans sports an eyepatch. His name is Vincent. He gets called Vince, for reasons of ancient street lore…there's always a Vince.

VINCE: Steady!

There's always a Vince. And he's always insane. This one looks as if he's straightened his last jacket, though. The humans are outnumbered two to one, though each man (and quite a few women) look as if they're more than willing to do some damage on their way out. Vince makes an effective leader-madder than a bouncy castle on the Moon, but the first into battle and the last to retreat.

The first vamp makes a leap…and disintegrates in mid-air, caught through the chest by one hell of a harpoon shot. Both groups, humans and vamps, stop to gape back. New on the scene are two vanloads of heavies, armed to the teeth with stakes and, strangely, handguns. One thing is apparent, though-they're human.

VINCE: Reinforcements! Chaaaaaaaaaaaargeaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!

His mad headlong rush into the vampires, by now with their backs turned, is enough to galvanise his troops into following. Panicked, the vamps beat a retreat, but only into the waiting ranks of the newcomers.

Battle begins anew.

Whoever these arrivals are, they're clearly a force to be reckoned with, as one vampire after another finds out; expert martial arts training is coupled with a fearsome skill with a small piece of wood. One vamp manages to disarm his opponent, sending his stake to the ground. The human draws his small handgun, eliciting a bemused frown from the vamp but little else.

There is a gunshot, and an odd report. The vamp screams in agony, clawing at his face, which is somehow covered in liquid, a substance which is eating into the vampire's skin even as the wretched creature claws desperately at its own features. After another few seconds of convulsions it is put out of its suffering by a stake brought squarely to the heart.

We see the gun in action again, pumping its strange ammunition into the back of a fleeing vampire, who drops to the surface in fits of acute distress. Vince is only too happy to pounce upon its back and drive a stake through it. When he gets up and surveys the one-sided devastation, he is awed.

VINCE: Who the hell are you people?!

The van door slides back. Stepping out from its interior safety now that the danger is well and truly over, Canon adjusts his shades and ambles over to Vince, several of his goons in tow. Vince recognises him; some of his pleasure ebbs a little, to be replaced by, in not quite equal measure, respect, fear, and disgust.

CANON: Vincent.

The disgust factor ups a little, visibly.

VINCE: What are you doing here?

CANON: Nice.

VINCE: Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your little Calvary show. Things have been getting rough round these parts lately-the damn vamps-

CANON: It's the vamps I'm here to talk to you about.

VINCE: Uh huh. No offence, but I always kinda thought you and your people had a 'don't suck us, we don't stake you' policy in respect to 'em.

CANON: Things have changed. I'm offering my resources to you.

Vince draws in a long breath. He may be a little unstable, but he's a long way from stupid. A gangland boss was unlikely to offer his private army for good deeds unless-

VINCE: I ain't about to become one of your dealers, I'll tell you that right now.

CANON: No need for that. Just tired of seeing my own species become food-is that so hard to believe?

Vince lets his eyebrows reply.

CANON: (smiles thinly) Look at it like this, Vince my boy - how many vamps buy drugs?

Clearly this is a much more acceptable reason. Vince seems caught-he can hardly keep from drooling when he imagines taking on the local vampires kitted out with this army, but Canon is about as trustworthy as a dotcom company.

VINCE: I need to bring in some more people on this. I ain't the greatest planner the world has ever seen.

CANON: Yeah, I think I caught your all tactical know-how when you shouted charge…call anyone you like. Call the best. My men are at your disposal, simply drop me the nod and the rendez-vous point and you can give them their instructions.

VINCE: Do we get some of those guns?

CANON: Ah. You noticed, huh.

He holds out a hand and one is immediately placed there by a nearby lackey. Canon takes the few steps over to Vince and bids him to take a closer look, which, naturally, Vince is only too eager to.

Canon flips open the barrel to reveal the ammunition, one of which he extracts.

CANON: This is a superdense plastic ball filled with consecrated water. A holy water bullet. Designed to resist the heat of firing, and burst open under the skin of your average vampire, causing them instant agony.

He snaps the barrel closed again and presents the gun to a totally silenced Vince, who cradles it protectively, as if it were a newborn.

CANON: Best of all, an impact to you or me causes us nothing more than a moderate bruising-like a paintball hit. To a vampire, of course, it's pure, 100 pain. It won't kill them, and they will heal, but it'll take them out of the fight. Now I don't have to tell you, these things were not cheap. Don't screw around with them, Vince.

VINCE: I'll be gentle.

Canon nods to his goons, who file back into their vans with military speed and precision, watched with fear and awe by Vincent and his cronies. He smiles.

CANON: Go find Gunn. Get him to pick the biggest, juiciest vampire nest in the area, get as many people as he can, and then give me a call. It's time for the humans to take back this town. Starting now.

Vince and his gang burst into a ragged cheer, waving their stakes in the air. We close on Canon as he scrambles into his van, breaking out into a smile you could shave with…

Act II, Scene X

A bright morning in Anne's shelter. She emerges from her office with Wesley and Cordelia. There's an easy air of friendship present, though the tone and the subject matter of the conversation are serious. We catch brief glimpses of the children and young people, most of whom are lazing around idly.

ANNE: That's a pretty tall order, even for her.

WESLEY: I think Virginia can do it. She still has the contacts.

CORDELIA: Wes-I thought it was her father who had the contacts. You know, the father she's not talking to on account of the way he tried to have her sacrificed at an altar to a dark God for his own gain…

ANNE: That's the story of so many broken homes these days.

WESLEY: Yes, well, many of those in her father's old business were horrified. Don't forget, he had many rivals. They're only too happy to help Virginia out with a little requisitioning. By happy coincidence, there was a magical supplies foraging expedition scheduled to go out to the Appalachians.

CORDELIA: He means party as in bunch of men willing to risk neck and spine to bring back demon goo worth heap big reward.

WESLEY: Yes, well let's just hope that any of them return this time. I had quite a job putting Angel off the idea of joining them-how he thought he was going to cross mountains looking to hunt day-dwelling demons while travelling only at night, I've no idea.

ANNE: How's Melissa holding up during all this?

Cordelia and Wesley glance at each other.

WESLEY: Rather too well.

CORDELIA: She's like a moth to a flame, you mean. And I'm sure she's skimming some of my office cosmetics.

WESLEY: Down to your last drawerful?

Recognising the signs, Anne steps quickly between them with an amused smile, which reminds us that behind that often-serious exterior is a very young and pretty girl.

ANNE: Keep an eye on them. And thanks for keeping me in, you two. I appreciate it.

All three exchange their goodbyes. Wesley exits, and just as Cordelia makes to pass through the doors, Devasson approaches from the opposite end. He graciously steps back and opens the door to allow her passage with a broad sweep of his arm, bowing slightly and flashing that whitening-toothpaste grin.

CORDELIA: (pleased) Thank you…

DEVASSON: My dear. Don't think of mentioning it.

His grin broadens and he steps inside. Cordelia casts a glance back at him, and we see Wesley standing a little way away, his arms folded impatiently. Cordelia sighs in a long-suffering way and starts toward him.

Inside, Devasson knocks the door to Anne's office. She looks up from some paperwork and sighs a little.

ANNE: Come in, please.

Devasson enters. He presents himself with effortless style, and though Anne is not as taken as Cordelia was, she cannot help but be slightly disarmed by his genial bearing. He proffers his hand and shakes hers gently, smiling.

DEVASSON: Such an honour to meet you in person. You must think me a little odd, bursting in here without announcing my attentions to visit first-it's just my way I'm afraid, half borne out of a busy schedule and half because I want to see people in their full flow of work…

He laughs at that point, obviously seeing her confused expression.

DEVASSON: Now I've really lost the image battle. Oh well…nothing left but to tell you that my name is Frederic Devasson, and I work with a group of people called the Junior Uplift Charitable Association. We're a charity.

ANNE: …hello…

DEVASSON: She speaks, I've finally given her a chance to! (laughs) I've read up so much on what you've done here, for these children, I can't help but babble a little, and besides, you're…ah…rather different in person than one imagines a youthcare worker to appear.

Anne eventually decides this to be a compliment. One corner of her mouth tugs up, but she still seems a little unsure of this talkative newcomer.

ANNE: What do you want from us, Mr Devasson?

Devasson smiles, in much the same way-in fact, in a more less identical way-to the way Canon did at the end of the previous Act…

Act II, Scene XI

Angel's training basement in the hotel. It seems to be kitted out for war; targets hang from the ceiling, dummies abound. Angel and Jules stand in the middle of all this equipment. The latter is fairly quivering with excitement. Angel, typically, is not.

ANGEL: Your body clock is going to have to adjust-don't forget that. Try not to stay up much past five in the morning, the sun can come up pretty quick. Sleep until the early afternoon-try to aim for about two, maybe three o'clock. Of course during winter-

JULES: Angel?

ANGEL: -you can gain an extra…yes?

Jules looks meaningfully downward. Angel follows his gaze down to the huge silver axe he's holding across both arms.

JULES: You're standing there with a weapon most people wouldn't even be able to lift, in a room the A-Team would have thought was over the top, and you're lecturing me about how much sleep I should aim for?

ANGEL: It's important.

JULES: In case you've forgotten, I can't go out during the day. What am I going to do, take up bridge? I'll sleep. Now show me how to fight.

ANGEL: You don't want to know how to fight.

Jules makes to reply, then catches himself.

JULES: Oh, don't start this.

ANGEL: Excuse me?

JULES: You're gonna do your Yoda bit now, aren't you.

Angel hefts the axe and stares at Jules impassively.

ANGEL: Do I look like Yoda to you?

JULES: (smiling) That doesn't matter. Anyone doing this mystical training thing always has to get all mysterious. Stay on the path…anger leads to fear…be the fly, grasshopper…c'mon, I've seen it a million times. I bet you were about to say you don't want to know how to fight, you want to know how to hurt people. Give me a break, Angel. Cut the crap and teach me the moves.

ANGEL: Moves?

JULES: Yeah, mo-akkkkkk…

Without seeming to pass through the intervening space, Angel is suddenly behind him, and has the shaft of the axe tightly drawn around his throat. Though vampires don't require air, they still would rather not have their throats crushed by invading metal.

ANGEL: How about this one? Huh?

He releases Jules by pushing him forward, sending him sprawling to the floor in a heap. We hear an angry grunt metamorphose into a characteristic vampire snarl, and when Jules turns to glare at Angel his face has changed into full vampire mode.

ANGEL: What I was gonna say was that you don't want to know how to fight, you want to know how to survive. And you'd better start learning.

He throws Jules a second axe from the table. Jules takes it from the air as he gets up, still panting with anger, but now with a healthy dose of apprehension too.

ANGEL: Lesson one-

He comes at Jules with the axe, a long sweep. Jules brings his own axe to meet the blow and they collide in the air. Almost as soon as they have, Angel steps back and feints to the side before coming in from the blind left, completely throwing Jules off, and making it easy for Angel to bring the axe's handle into his opponents ribs. Such is the force of the blow that Jules is lifted off his feet and into the wall, crashing to the ground, his axe a few feet away.

JULES: (panicked, in great pain) What…what the hell are you doing!

ANGEL: I dunno. Being all mysterious?

Jules gets to his feet, backing against the wall as Angel approaches.

JULES: You could have killed me!

ANGEL: No.

Something about the way he says it triggers a realisation in Jules' mind. He gingerly touches his ribs, and is astonished to find he can push and prod without any sort of pain backlash. He flexes himself.

ANGEL: You have to readjust. Your sleep. Your diet. And what you think you can do. You're stronger, faster, fitter, and you heal in a moment. But you have to know that to be able to use it.

He allows this a moment to sink in, then bends down and picks up Jules' discarded weapon and throws it to him. Jules catches it. His vampire face is gone; now we see his human features set in a mask of concentration, determination. He starts to look older than his seventeen years.

Angel raises his axe and points the blade at Jules. He beckons with his spare hand.

ANGEL: Show me.

Jules pushes out from the wall, blade flashing. The two come together in a whirl of steel and flesh. We don't stay on the fight, but the scene ends with a series of still images from the ensuing battle. Jules has begun his combat training in earnest, and he appears to be doing quite well.

Act II, Scene XII

Same setting, presumably a little later. Jules is squatting on the floor, Angel a few feet away. The two men are breathing heavily, but there is a sense of muted exhilaration about both-Jules, though almost too tired to move, grins lopsidedly over at Angel, who nods and returns the smile.

JULES: (catching his breath still) Is…is…is this your typical work…out?

ANGEL: I'm taking it easy.

Jules laughs this off.

JULES: Yeah, I get it…scare the rookie with the horror stories, right…

ANGEL: Nope. I'm taking it easy.

Jules' smile dies.

JULES: …great. I thought vampires more or less stayed in shape no matter what?

ANGEL: Partly true, yeah, but I don't work out for the physical sharpness. You need the heat of battle to stay focussed, or you pay the price out there when it matters.

JULES: Besides which, you enjoy it.

Angel reacts as if stung. He scrutinises an unrepentant Jules, considers denying it outright, and eventually concedes defeat, though he's clearly not happy to do so.

JULES: You look as if you're ashamed to admit it. Why?

Angel makes no reply.

JULES: Man, you're a champion. A hero. A warrior. Are you supposed to go about LA and come across demons snacking down on the innocent and look for a diplomatic solution? You're out there on the front line, fighting the good fight. The good fight. (shrugs) So what's wrong with relishing it a little?

ANGEL: Sometimes I think I could never be anything else.

JULES: Well, there are a lot of worse things you could be stuck as. You could be a street kid with no future and a price on his head, just to pick a random example.

They regard each other for a moment. Angel grunts and smiles ruefully.

ANGEL: Here I thought I was supposed to be Yoda…?

He gets up and wanders across the room. Jules is reluctant to follow him, preferring to remain in his semi-resting position, still in need of a breather (…figuratively speaking, of course). We stay with Jules and hear Angel's voice.

ANGEL: You've learned to start to let go of your expectations of a human body. That'll let you access your strengths as a vampire. What you did this morning was hard work, but there's no easy ride beyond that-now you have to keep practising, improve your technique, work on your rhythm.

JULES: Right…

ANGEL: You're only halfway there in terms of adjustment. You've learned to come to terms with your advantages. You have to learn your weaknesses. Catch!

Jules brings up his hands instinctively to block the trajectory of an object that was sailing straight for his head. He manages to catch it…

JULES: AAAAAAAAAAargh!

…and drops it almost immediately. We see a large and pretty ornate crucifix drop to the ground, still smoking as it settles.

The sound vanishes from the scene. We see Jules look down at his hands. Burned into the flesh, charred and likewise smouldering, is the impression of the crucifix in his skin. Around it the skin is raw. Jules' features begin to change to his vampiric face as a reflex, but he resists it fiercely, shaking his head violently, eventually managing to retain his human face.

There is a palpable sense of deep shock. Sound floods back as Angel appears on the scene, quiet at Jules' obvious distress.

JULES: Oh God…it burned. It burned.

ANGEL: If you'd kept hold of it, it would have dissolved the flesh down to the bone. I've seen vampires tortured with them. Hell, I've done it myself. Hold it down on their chests and it'll eat through the flesh and gobble the heart.

Jules is incredulous.

JULES: But…but it's meant to be…holy…so does that make me...

ANGEL: You are a vampire, Jules. It's doing its job.

JULES: I don't get it. You've got a soul. You're a hero, right? You've saved the world. And yet-what?-according to this (points) according to God, you're meant to be unholy? I'm unholy? Why?

ANGEL: I saved the world, yeah. But I did it with a demon inside of me who would have laughed to see it burn, rejoiced to see millions die. We're not meant to be unholy, Jules-we are unholy. You'll have to accept that.

Angel lifts up one of those sports containers with the push-on caps and the built-in straws, the ones which clip to bikes. As he does we see the straw is stained red.

JULES: (defiant) I don't feel unholy.

ANGEL: Blood?

JULES: Oh hell yeah.

Act II, Scene XIII

Angel and Jules emerge into the reception area of the hotel. It's approaching early evening, but the sun is out (this is California, after all) and it spills into the hotel a little through the main doors, forming a half-circle pool of light on the floor.

Unusually (Wesley and Cordelia must still be on that errand), there is no-one else currently there.

ANGEL: Wes and Cordelia aren't back yet.

See, told you. Jules, meanwhile, takes a few casual steps around the entrance desk, casting the odd nervous glance over at the outside world. Angel notices this.

ANGEL: Every one of us thought it, too.

JULES: What?

ANGEL: Every single vampire thinks '…maybe the others just didn't have enough faith in themselves, maybe if I show them the way, we can do it'.

Jules stands agape at him. Angel points to the doors.

ANGEL: You think you can do it?

JULES: I…never said…

ANGEL: I understand, it's all right. It seems so nuts at first, right? I mean, come on…of all the things in the world to be fatal to you, daylight seems less likely than Q-tips. I mean, we've all heard about skin cancer, but…bursting into flames? Within seconds? Maybe it's just a mind-over-matter thing. Right?

Jules nods, taking another couple of hesitant steps. The camera pulls back, until we see he's maybe ten feet from the edge of the circle of light.

JULES: Of all the vampire things, this is the one I least get. I mean, think about it-it's not exactly surprising that a large piece of wood through the heart will do some damage; name me something that wouldn't have a bad day with that. The cross thing I kinda get, though I think it's harsh if you have a damn soul…

Seven feet…

From the reception sofa, Angel sits and watches and waits, silent.

JULES: …but daylight? How come most demons walk in it without getting so much as a sunburn; and yet vampires, more human than demons, frazzle up and die?

Three feet.

JULES: Once you're bitten, that's it? You'll never feel the sun on your face again? But why keep us to the night? Why make us hunt when people are most vulnerable?

He's breathing hard-well, giving an approximation of breathing hard, at any rate. Taking two more small steps, he's at the very edge of the half circle of light, so close that it affects his eyes; he blinks, a little blinded.

From the sofa, Angel watches. He closes his own eyes and sighs.

Jules raises a slightly trembling arm, ready to thrust it forward at any second.

JULES: Maybe…you know, hey, I have a soul…and I've had one from the beginning-it could-

…and he thrusts. His arm enters the light…and is preserved. He turns over his hand, still unblemished, and turns his head to shout to Angel.

JULES: I'm all right! I can do it! It's not bur-

…and that's when something goes 'whooomph'. An orange light flickers on the back of Jules' head. He screams and pulls his arm away, and we see that it is completely aflame, burning fiercely and brightly.

Jules howls in agony, hopping about the shaded part of the hotel's reception, clutching at his incinerating limb in blind panic.

Angel watches this, impassively.

JULES: HELP ME! OH GOD DO SOMETHING OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD -

ANGEL: Extinguisher's behind the desk.

Jules hesitates for the quarter-second it takes to shoot Angel a look of pure malice, then dives for the reception desk. We don't follow him-instead, we see Gunn entering from the street and nodding to Angel, even as off-camera we hear the sound of a fire extinguisher being used, and long howls of relief interspersed with curses. Gunn watches this action for a moment, not commenting, until-

GUNN: I'm guessing that wasn't an accident with microwave popcorn?

Jules clutches at his blackened arm, his face red from exertion, terror, and a healthy dose of humiliation. He shoots Gunn yet another look of total disgust.

ANGEL: Kid's on a learning curve. I don't think we'll need to repeat that lesson.

GUNN: Or at least next time give us head's up, and we'll bring some marshmallows.

JULES: (bitterly) Get bent.

He slumps down on the sofa, muttering and pawing at his arm, emitting occasional whimpers of distress, but now too proud to admit them.

GUNN: I got a call from some old buds. Word is that a major player in the downtown districts has developed a sudden vendetta for vamps.

ANGEL: I'm listening.

GUNN: Old…friend…of mine, Vince, he tells me this guy Canon-you heard of him? (Angel shakes his head) I'm not surprised, he's not the flashy type of big fish, but for whatever reason, he wants to sweep the entire hood clean. Vince is talkin' about armies of what looked like Grade A mercs. Canon is letting them out to the local vampire hunters, free of charge.

ANGEL: Maybe he was visited by the three spirits.

GUNN: Yeah- of Dealers Past, Present and Future. But Angel, folks down there are up against it pretty bad. Vince is gonna take what help he can get. From Canon…and from us, too.

ANGEL: What's he planned?

GUNN: (grimaces) He ain't big on plans…he was kinda hopin' that you and me would provide the tactics, and lend ourselves too-he's targeting a huge nest spread over a couple of buildings. He figures maybe sixty, seventy vamps, and unless he takes 'em out now they're only gonna increase their numbers, so he's setting a date in the next few days.

Angel thinks it over. We cut to Jules, who's still holding his arm (which is markedly less black than last we saw) but seems very interested in the wider conversation.

ANGEL: Can you take me there? Now?

GUNN: Sure-there's cover, you can scout the place out.

JULES: I'm coming.

GUNN: Oh no you are not-

ANGEL: He's coming.

Gunn is stunned by this, but there's a note of finality to Angel's voice which does not suggest argument. Besides which, Gunn is keen to press on. He shrugs.

GUNN: (grinning) I'll bring the car round.

Act II, Scene XIV

The entrance area, presumably a little later. Wesley has covered the table in books and reference materials and is currently deeply buried in one particularly huge volume; so much so, in fact, that he's completely hidden by it save the top of his head.

Behind him, we see Melissa descending the stairwell.

MELISSA: Hey, Wes…

Wesley does not flinch or look up from the book. His reply is in a distant voice.

WESLEY: …yes, terrible…

MELISSA: Doing the taxes?

She laughs a little, it was meant as a joke. Wesley does not laugh-in fact, he doesn't react at all, save to turn a page which crinkles in a way only books older than national monuments can.

WESLEY: …they'll be back soon…

MELISSA: Right. Are you actually listening?

This one seems to get through. The book comes down enough for us to see Wesley's glasses and the upper part of his nose. He turns to face Melissa, taking her appearance in for the first time.

WESLEY: (touchingly concerned) How are you?

MELISSA: Me? Well hey, I'm a lot more alive than some of the workforce around here, so I guess I'm doing all right.

WESLEY: If you feel you need to talk to someone about what's happened, please…

MELISSA: Wow, thanks Wesley. You guys-you're just darned swell, you know that?

…as she talks, the book raises again…Melissa notices this with a dry smile.

MELISSA: I mean, you really take the time to listen, and I appreciate that, really and truly, I do.

WESLEY: (faintly) …oh, good…

MELISSA: I'm just going into Cordy's office now to steal some of her stuff, OK?

WESLEY: …go right ahead…

Melissa strides cockily into the office; bare moments later, Cordelia emerges from the street. She's not seen or heard any of the previous exchange. Moving quickly over to Wesley, she taps him on the shoulder. He looks up from his research with a pained 'what now?' expression.

CORDELIA: Where is she?

Wesley looks dumbfounded, before realisation spreads over him like the first dawn of a new spring.

WESLEY: She said…I…think she went out?

Cordelia grins at this news, pats him absently, and makes a beeline for the stairwell, shuffling up as fast as she can in her awkward heels.

WESLEY: (baffled) Women.

As she turns the corner and vanishes from sight Melissa pops out of the office, slipping what looks like a lipgloss into the pocket of her jeans with a smile. Her task done, she glances around, bored.

MELISSA: I think I'll grab some eats from the drugstore. Want nibbles? No, I didn't-

WESLEY: Two chewy fingers and a bottle of low-fat drinking chocolate.

Melissa turns, surprised. All she can see is the book, and he's silent once again. She's bemused by this behaviour.

MELISSA: O…kay. When Cordelia comes back, tell her where I went (mutters) like you'd notice what the hell anyone was saying anyway-

WESLEY: Cordelia? She was going up to your room.

MELISSA: (already rolling her eyes, unawares) -yeah, I'll be careful. Later!

She walks out the doors, and all is quiet, save for Wesley, casually turning a page.

Act II, Scene XV

Gunn's car pulls up to a shaded part of a downtown district.

GUNN: We're here.

In the back, Angel and Jules pull off a heavy sheet, which had obviously been used to shield both from the effects of the sun during the intercity trip. As they exit the vehicle, marking out the boundaries of their movement (there's a large patch of shadow across the street given by the building behind them),

Angel and Jules are immediately struck by a pungent aroma, to which Gunn seems completely oblivious.

GUNN: Place seems quiet.

JULES: …we're in the right spot. Believe me.

Gunn notices the state of his two companions. They're not exactly repulsed by the smell, just affected; their eyes are wide, nostrils flared. Jules even emits a very low grunt that sounds, for a moment, like a growl, tasting the air. Angel is less moved.

GUNN: You mind tellin me-what's with the sniffer-dog thing?

ANGEL: Blood. (he nods to the building in front of them) A lot of blood has been spilled there, fresh, recent blood.

Gunn seems a little uncomfortable at this sudden animalistic turn of behaviour.

GUNN: Yeah…well…you two should have filled up before we left.

Angel begins his scrutiny of the stronghold itself.

ANGEL: Two side entrances. Know anything about the local sewers?

JULES: The local what?

GUNN: Vince tells me the vamps fan out in all directions come sundown; above ground and below-sewer tunnels, the works. They're that cocky.

JULES: Sewers?

ANGEL: Best to have teams stationed along every tunnel, cut off retreats, then make a frontal assault through both surface doors, drive them, separate their mass, and pick them off at close range in the sewers. We have the numbers.

GUNN: (nods) That's what I figured.

JULES: (nods too, out of a need to feel involved) Count me in.

ANGEL: You were in already, Team Leader.

JULES & GUNN: Team Leader?!

ANGEL: Mmm. All you have to do now is pick your sewer…

Act II, Scene XVI

Cordelia opens the door to Melissa's room with a grin like a Cheshire Cat on morphine, after collagen injections. She makes a beeline for the beds and dives down to begin inspecting under them with great sweeps of one arm. Her tongue protrudes slightly in concentration.

We cut back to reception. Melissa saunters (she never walks) back in the front doors, munching idly on a packet of crisps…or a "bag of potato chips", whatever. She's carrying a bag under her arm, which she throws to Wesley, who plucks it from the air in mid-flight without even looking up.

MELISSA: Two chewy fingers and one bottle drinking choc.

WESLEY: Low-fat?

MELISSA: Live life on the edge, Wes.

Meanwhile, Cordelia extracts a case from under Melissa's bed. Opening it, she's disappointed to see just clothes. Inspiration, however, plainly strikes; she begins to feel for a catch along the lining.

Melissa is ascending the main stairwell.

MELISSA: What's the book about, Wes? Shy English guy saves world from vampires, gets better dental plan from vampire boss?

WESLEY: The manifest destiny of humankind, as transcribed and recorded by the finest soothsayers in history.

MELISSA: (sighs) So many comebacks…

Cordelia finds a catch of some description-the case reveals itself to have a false bottom, which springs up. She gives a little exclamation of triumph and begins rummaging inside.

WESLEY: (to himself) Strong sense of impending doom…hmm…

CORDELIA: I knew it!

She holds up a small compact mirror, two eyeliners and a bottle of nail polish, retrieved from the concealed compartment. She shakes her head in disgust, slips them into her pocket, and is about to leave before noticing that there is more in the compartment than just her liberated cosmetics.

CORDELIA: …ho ho…hidden depths to our little venom-spitter…hey, my pen!

She lifts up a sheaf of paper covered in handwriting. Delighted at this find, she flicks through the pages and runs her finger down a random passage, reading aloud.

CORDELIA: '…she knew that he was her balance in this world, her pivot. Though she might never achieve her dreams or come close to scaling the impossible heights of her fantasies, she would have him always, and it would be enough, and with him she would find-'

MELISSA: '-a place she could call her own.'

Cordelia freezes. A grimace of guilt and embarrassment spreads across her face as Melissa stands leaning against the doorframe, watching her coolly. Just as Cordelia is about to begin making her excuses, she remembers something visibly; she's not necessarily the one on dodgy moral ground here. She fishes out the retrieved cosmetics from her pocket and waves them at Melissa smugly.

CORDELIA: Care to explain these before we get all high-and-mighty?

MELISSA: (embarrassed) Ah.

CORDELIA: How dare you steal my things!

MELISSA: How dare you invade my room and go through my stuff, how dare you read my private thoughts for your entertainment!

CORDELIA: Your private thoughts that you wrote with my pen…how dare you!

MELISSA: Oh, enough with the dares already. Sorry about your things.

Cordelia bites off another stinging volley with a little difficulty-a measure of her increasing maturity. She calms down, and rolls her eyes.

CORDELIA: …well…I guess it's what you've had to do to survive this long.

MELISSA: You're not wrong.

She walks forward and holds out her hands for the paper, which Cordelia presents her with, before flopping down on her bed.

MELISSA: I'm such a crappy thief though, always have been. Jules was the good thief. I'd be a lot thinner and a lot deader if it weren't for him.

Cordelia is still standing there. She looks at Mel with more than a trace of sympathy, before reaching a decision and sitting down on the end of her bed. If Mel is surprised at this gesture, she doesn't show it. Neither does she seem to mind Cordelia sticking around, surprisingly.

CORDELIA: You two looked out for each other.

MELISSA: He looked out for me. I don't know why the hell he did it. I'm not saying I'm useless but…I wasn't born for the life, you know (fidgets) I mean I've never known real luxury but I've always known there's better, you know? And it killed me.

CORDELIA: (reflectively) I lived that luxury for most of my life. It's not a ticket to happiness.

MELISSA: It'd be nice to find out for myself if that's true, all the same…

She grins a little at the weak joke. Cordelia smiles back.

MELISSA: Why'd you change your lifestyle to this?

CORDELIA: It wasn't exactly my choice. Daddy and the Revenue Office had a little misunderstanding of sorts…the 'house and condo and car and horse and personal shopper and trust fund' kind.

MELISSA: Ouch!

CORDELIA: Ouch?! More like (she screams theatrically, then laughs)

We cut to reception. Wesley stops reading, his eyes wide. He throws down the book and scampers for the weapons. We cut back. Melissa has her hand in her pocket-she extracts the lipgloss we saw her pocket from the office and holds it up to Cordelia, looking pretty ashamed.

MELISSA: Look, for years I had precisely one person in all the world who I wasn't a total bitch to. It'll take time to adjust.

CORDELIA: (smiles a little) At least the one person you were nice to wasn't yourself. Me, now…different story…

Wesley, armed with a battle axe (which he's finding difficult to carry) in one hand and a stake in the other, is bounding up the steps, his gaze intense with grim concentration.

MELISSA: -you did not say that!

CORDELIA: I did, and then I just turned and walked away. Of course, I would have maimed to be able to see the look on her face, but you can't have a Grade A putdown like that and then not top it off with a haughty exit, can you?

MELISSA: Perish the thought! Sounds like you had a blast…

CORDELIA: It was fun. Friendless and kind of empty, but it had its moments, being a superbitch. Of course, then you fall for the right guy…fall in with the right crowd…before you know it, you've become moral and conscientious, and you end up with a spiritually fulfilling job.

MELISSA: Isn't that always the way?

She glances down at the sheaf of papers still clutched tightly, protectively, in her hand. Cordelia stays silent, waiting for her to say whatever she has to say.

MELISSA: No-one has ever read my stuff before.

CORDELIA: Where did you learn to write like that?

MELISSA: It's a long and heartbreaking story, struggle against the odds, hopeless dreams of getting out of the ghetto, that sort of thing.

CORDELIA: I'm not going anywhere.

MELISSA: You're not? It's a Friday evening…

CORDELIA: (grits teeth) Your point being?

MELISSA: You seriously want to hear me talk about myself?

CORDELIA: Duh. 'Angel Investigations: We Help the Helpless', ring a bell?

MELISSA: I thought that was just-

CORDELIA: Well, it's not. We're here for you, for real, and we'll fight for you-

-just as she says the words, Wesley charges into the room, axe and stake in hand, teeth bared and eyes wide, shouting an incoherent challenge to emptiness.

He takes in the situation, namely the total lack of anything resembling danger, and the two women sitting there looking at him with something less than total respect, and facial expressions bordering on total bewilderment and a fair dash of amusement.

Beat.

MELISSA: Was that, like, some sort of demonstration?

Act II, Scene XVII

The offices of Wolfram & Hart. To be specific, Devasson's office. His secretary stands with an electronic notepad across his desk while, at the other side, Devasson sits in his plush leather chair, the very picture of corporate privilege.

Sitting beside the secretary is Canon. The two men are currently staring at each other, waves of tension radiating from both and acknowledged by neither.

DEVASSON: Cast your mind back to our previous meeting. I told you, quite specifically, that Angel was our territory, and you were to have no involvement with him or face the consequences from this firm. And today I am told that you are, in fact, planning a major counter-offensive with him.

CANON: Wrong, and wrong.

DEVASSON: Oh, really? That's a relief. Sorry to have troubled you. Shut the door on your way out, won't you?

Canon doesn't move, rather wisely. Devasson is fuming, in his own way.

CANON: You didn't tell me to have no involvement with him. You told me that I couldn't kill him. And I'm not planning the raid, he is. (smiles) I'm just arming him.

DEVASSON: Ah yes. The raid. So you imagine that this planned attack will be acceptable to us at Wolfram & Hart, do you? Considering our clientele?

CANON: You represent the rich demons, my friend. I'm going after the blue-collar vamps; I don't think any of them will be on your books.

DEVASSSON: What's your angle on this, hmm?

CANON: I suppose if I don't tell you, I'll never get out of this building alive, right?

DEVASSON: (smiles charmingly) Building! How ambitious of you.

CANON: I'm curious about this Angel. I want to see what's so special about him, and this will give me the chance to do just that. I also want to see if those damn guns are worth the ransom I paid for them. Plus, it'll be nice to remind the vamps in my districts that they may not exactly be customers of mine, but just because I don't take my brunch with a plasma side-order they can't chow down on my source of income and not expect some payback.

Devasson absorbs this through steepled fingers.

DEVASSON: Mmm. And that's it?

CANON: (sardonically) Yes, bwana.

DEVASSON: What about, oh, say…the double-cross you're planning to pull on Gunn and his little troops when all of the vamps are dead?

CANON: Oh, did I forget to mention that?

Devasson's face cracks very slowly into a grin, which we suspect may be genuine. He pats the desk with a hand and points at Canon.

DEVASSON: You might have made a hell of a lawyer, Mr. Canon.

CANON: I'll take that as a compliment.

Act II, Scene XVIII

Melissa and Jules' room, later that night. Jules has returned from his outing and has obviously been ordered to relate everything to an eager Melissa. They sit facing each other on Jules' bed in positions that roughly mirror those of Cordelia and Melissa earlier, the casual poses of friends.

MELISSA: Sewers?! You've finally found your calling, kiddo. Sewer guard.

JULES: Shut up…

MELISSA: So how was training? Considering I wasn't allowed to come watch-

JULES: Damn right you aren't. It's…well, intense stuff.

MELISSA: Boys stuff, you mean. Yawn.

JULES: Vampire stuff, Mel. I don't like you seeing me like that, I don't care how temporary it is.

MELISSA: I think it's cool.

JULES: (shocked) Tell me that was a joke.

MELISSA: Jules, I think they sucked the sense of fun out of you when you died. How cool is being superstrong, superfast, agile, immortal?

JULES: Mel, I set myself on fire today trying to see the sky. Trying to see the sky.

MELISSA: I saw it plenty. It was just like yesterday-big, blue, boring. So you can't exactly hang ten off a board or shoot a round of golf, big deal.

JULES: You don't understand.

MELISSA: Don't talk to me like that. I'm not an idiot, all right? I'm not a stupid kid either. I've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be in your position…

JULES: …oh, not this again, please…

MELISSA: If there was a button you could press, a switch you could throw, I would do it. I would press it, throw it, do a hula dance on it if that was what it took.

JULES: Mel, that is insane. You don't know what it's like, and I don't care how I sound when I say that, you hear me? (adding softly) I like the taste of blood.

He allows this to sink in. Mel keeps quiet.

JULES: How do you think that makes me feel about myself, eh? I love it. If there was some here now, I'd be drinking it. God, the taste…the sensation…it's amazing. And then you think; how do I look right now? Red at the mouth, yellow eyes, my teeth-no, my fangs-stained? And this makes me happy? I feel like an animal, Mel.

MELISSA: (defiantly) Better predator than prey.

JULES: Better you never know what I mean.

MELISSA: At least you had this opportunity. You can go back to being human again. (she looks away, unable to face him while saying…) …so could I…

JULES: No. Mel, you're my best friend.

MELISSA: So respect my right to choose. I choose this. I accept the risk.

JULES: How about I respect your right to be alive?

MELISSA: You're leaving me behind, Jules. It might take weeks, months, maybe longer, for you to come through this and be 'cured' (she makes a face). Until then, how long will we spend together? How many times will you tell me that it's 'vampire stuff', eh? We're going to live in different worlds.

JULES: I don't understand.

MELISSA: (quietly) Who's gonna steal me paper, Jules? Who's gonna sit on the end of my bed while I talk about how crappy my life is? Who's gonna look out for me?

JULES: I am! I'll always…(he falters a little), maybe it won't be so often but-

MELISSA: We've always done everything together. You know what one of my first memories is? Following you through the streets while we looked for a new place to go. How many homes did we turn down because they were only looking for one kid?

JULES: A few.

MELISSA: More than.

JULES: We'll make the time. We always have. I'm not going to drift away from you because of this, Mel. I wouldn't let it have that effect. Why are you so worried?

MELISSA: Because I love you.

Jules is open-mouthed at this. For long moments he simply sits there, gaping. Melissa stares down at the bed, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment.

JULES: (weakly) I'm waiting for the punchline.

MELISSA: You'll be waiting a long time.

JULES: You're serious?

MELISSA: Of course I'm serious, you dope.

More silence. Several times Jules makes to say something, then shuts his mouth again and simply takes the time to look stunned. We cut to a view from Mel's point of vision; after a few seconds, she raises her head, and Jules has finally settled on a facial expression he feels confident enough to keep.

He's smiling.

JULES: I've always loved you. I love you, God, of course I do.

Melissa, typically, reacts rather differently than Jules to this news. She squeals in delight and catapults forward across the bed, ensnaring him in a tight hug of joy. They fall back onto the bed, laughing in the emotion of the moment, eventually coming to a rest facing each other on the covers, their faces inches apart.

MELISSA: All these years…and I have to make the first move!

JULES: (laughs) I thought you saw me as a brother, you know…

MELISSA: I'll call you Billy-Bob and you call me Kathy-Sue?

JULES: I can't believe it. I love you. I love you. God, I can say it! Out loud!

MELISSA: You can say it forever. God…did I just say that?…ick…

She moves her head closer, her lips brushing his. Neither person moves for a moment, then, in one movement, they come together in a long and lingering kiss. It should be a pretty damn good one!

Eventually, out of a lung-bursting need for oxygen (on the part of Melissa, obviously) if nothing else, they separate and bathe in the mini-afterglow.

JULES: …so many years I've waited to…

MELISSA: Me too.

We cut to downstairs, to reception. Wesley and Cordelia are idly sipping coffee from mugs. Cordelia is flicking through a magazine, with a bored expression.

CORDELIA: Kids are quiet.

WESLEY: You don't think they're…?

CORDELIA: …setting fire to anything? Naah. (proudly) I bonded with Melissa.

WESLEY: Mmm.

Back upstairs, the kids are 'bonding'…through the lips, again. When the kiss breaks we see Melissa look slightly disappointed when she sees Jules' face. She adopts a casual tone.

MELISSA: I thought you might, you know, change.

JULES: Don't worry. Angel told me that negative emotions are much more likely to bring about the change than positive – pain, anger, fear.

MELISSA: The Dark Side of the Force…!

They share a laugh, both still a little bowled over by the rapid advancing of events which until tonight had been potboiling for well over a decade.

JULES: He said something else about it, something like, when I feel most like an animal…

Melissa looks suddenly more like a predator than Jules ever will, fangs and all.

MELISSA: The night is young…

Act II, Scene XIX

Gunn and Angel exit from Angel's car, having just returned from a meeting with Vince and his street troops.

GUNN: …sooo, Vince?

ANGEL: Borderline psychotic. Aggressive tendencies. Pathological hatred of vampires, to the point of obsession. Troublemaker.

GUNN: So you liked him, then.

ANGEL: Yeah, he grows on ya.

Gunn examines the specially-modified handgun Vince acquired from Canon as they enter the hotel and the reception area.

GUNN: I hope these things are as hot as he makes out.

ANGEL: We'll find out.

We cut to a little while later, same location; Wesley and Cordelia are scrabbling for possession of the gun, to the quiet alarm of Gunn and Angel. The kids are not present. Predictably, it is Cordelia who wins the short struggle. Wesley tries unsuccessfully not to sulk. Cordelia turns the gun over in her hands-it's actually quite a sleek model, but she's unknowingly causing Angel great distress by repeatedly putting him in the line of fire.

CORDELIA: Finally! Something a little more sophisticated than 'a sharp stick, preferably pointy'. If I'd had one of these back in Sunnydale…whoah!

Angel is quiet, and seems not overly thrilled.

WESLEY: It does represent a major leap forward.

GUNN: We get enough of these things, I'm talkin serious damage. We could take the fight to them. Turn the tables…so why don't I see you happy at this?

He's referring to Angel. The others turn to take in his tight expression.

ANGEL: It's dangerous.

CORDELIA: Yeah! For vamp…ires…(she trails off and sucks her cheeks in chagrin). Ah.

ANGEL: Right now we have the non-fatal variety. What kind of modifications, upgrades, do you think someone with the resources and connections of Wolfram & Hart could do to this thing?

WESLEY: Or the Watcher's Council.

ANGEL: Two organisations which I haven't received any Christmas cards from recently. I'm not just worried about me, though-I've faced worse. If these things are flooded into the market it could trigger a full-scale city-wide turf war. Right now we have a balance-all right, a balance between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, but if they go for each other's throats…it'll be chaos. A bloodbath.

He lets this sink in with the group, and seems rather pleased to have made his point so well-it did provoke one of his rare speeches, after all.

CORDELIA: Actually, Wolfram & Hart did send a card. (thinks) And a ham.

WESLEY: They sent that?

CORDELIA: Yeah. You know, to be evil, but in a kooky way.

GUNN: I had some of that ham. It was good! You let me eat Wolfram & Hart food?!

Wesley and Gunn are greatly disturbed at this news, and stare with betrayed expressions at Cordelia, who realises she's said too much. Not for the first time…

CORDELIA: I washed it!

ANGEL: GUYS!

His words are like a gunshot-ironic, given the object that has pride of place in the midst of all those assembled. The humans look a little sheepish. Angel does a pretty creditable impression of an exasperated boss. To refocus the team, he returns to business talk.

ANGEL: The attack is tomorrow night. Cordelia, Wesley, you're here with Melissa. Wes, I'll leave this (he tosses the gun to Wesley, who catches it with first surprise and then a quick smile in Cordelia's general direction) here, in case of any more little surprises. Stay here, stay low.

CORDELIA: Wait-you're not taking Jules into this, are you?

ANGEL: I need him fighting his own kind as soon as possible. He won't be on the front lines, near the…guns, he'll be secure but he will see a little action. He needs to. Wes, any news from Virginia?

WESLEY: The scouting team should have entered the target area (checks watch) three hours ago. They could be days, weeks, or rotting disembowelled carcasses. As soon as she knows anything, so will-

CORDELIA: Ohhhhhh…

She clutches at her head, classic first sign of an oncoming vision. The rest surge forward in their seats, fully expecting her to go into the throes of the psychic attack, ready to help her through the accompanying distress and disorientation.

After a moment of staying perfectly still, though, she shakes her head as if to clear it and sits upright again, plainly a little puzzled herself at the failure of the vision to properly gestate.

CORDELIA: Weird-I could have sworn-

ANGEL: Aaaaaagh!

Without any sort of warning, he drops to the floor, his limbs shaking quite violently, eyes opening and shutting, caught in a violent seizure which is identical to that Cordelia goes through which each vision. His forehead is creased with the pain and the intensity of the experience. Everyone else, meanwhile, is dumbstruck by this, with one notable exception-Cordelia springs from her seat in a moment and wraps her arms around her torso, propping him against the sofa.

CORDELIA: Don't just stand there! Standard vision drill, people!

As the vision subsides, she rests Angel's head back on the cushion until his breathing returns to normal (or whatever equivalent he has). Wesley hands her a cup which she presses to Angel's lips.

CORDELIA: Drink. It helps.

ANGEL: (weakly) …no…

CORDELIA: Don't get all Mr Tough Undead Universe on me now! I know how much it hurts!

ANGEL: It's tea.

Cordelia glances down at the contents of the cup, which are indeed tea, not exactly a vampire's beverage of choice (unless he's got bleached blonde hair). She languishes in one sharp, rebuking look at Wesley, who shrugs as if to say 'you did say standard…'

CORDELIA: Oh, then visualise the haemoglobin, whatever! Drink!

Obediently-maybe out of a survival instinct, given Cordy's tone-Angel takes a few sips, and exhales once, slowly. He and Cordelia share a significant look which seems to communicate his silent apologies to her for past casual treatments of the vision process and all it entails in terms of being draining and traumatic.

She nods fractionally, and a ghost of that familiar smile haunts her lips. Angel gets to his feet, mostly unaided, fast recovering, to face the fiercely curious interrogative gazes of his workforce.

ANGEL: Get Jules. We're going out.

Act II, Scene XX

A woman staggers along an alley, sobbing hysterically in fear, her clothes torn in places, one shoe lost. She hobbles, alternating between cries of pain and piping squeals of pain; she's hobbling noticeably. Your classic victim, really.

At the head of the alley, three silhouettes are suddenly framed by the streetlights against the blackness. A sadistic snicker trickles down the walls, causing the woman to redouble her efforts in retreating and increasing the volume of her whimpering cries and loud pleas for help.

WOMAN: Oh God, no…please God…somebody help me!…oh God…

After another ten feet or so of alley, she glances back again in panic, and stops out of shock. The figures are gone. We see the thought surfacing in her mind-what was worse, knowing where her pursuers were or not…she is frozen to the spot, unsure if going on is now the best course of action, bent over in pain, one hand at her neck; we see blood seeping through her fingers.

She turns around. There's one silhouette at the end of the alley she was formerly approaching. This makes up her mind for her, and she spins…only to see a second at the opposite end. She pulls at her hair in insane frustration and terror.

Another laugh floats through the air. This time, though…she looks up, as the third vampire descends from directly above, having jumped from the roof of the adjoining building. Her squeal of fear and attempt to flee is cut off by a casual sweep of his arm, sending her into the wall. Seeming to accept her fate, she does nothing but shake uncontrollably as he leans his head to her neck, to finish the job.

A car screeches. Loudly. The vampire is sufficiently distracted to pause from his feeding. He raises his head…

…to see Angel's car roaring from the street, and directly into the body of the alley itself, with about a metre to spare on each side. The vampire who had been guarding that end of the alley is sprinting for his life ahead of the speeding vehicle. Looking not altogether displeased, the vampire discards his meal and waits.

A few dumpsters are scattered a little way into the alley. Angel's car comes to a squealing halt before it would have impacted them. The fleeing vampire joins his companion, as from the other side the second 'guard' jogs up, forming a trio. They watch as Angel vaults over the windshield to face them, followed a second later by Gunn…and Jules, who begins doing frantic kung-fu style warm-up moves, to the amusement of the vampires.

VAMP #1: What is this? Vigilante and Son?

ANGEL: You'll have to excuse my friend. You're about to becom-

Jules screams and charges.

ANGEL: -e his first…kills…(trails off)

He and Gunn exchange a very quick and rather telling look, and dash to keep up. We watch Jules first of all, however, in (what else?) stylish slow-mo. He piledrives into the centre vampire, knocking him off his feet with simple weight if not finesse. As the two flanking creatures begin to move, his right foot lashes out from his position on the concrete, catching the rightmost vamp in the stomach.

The remaining vampire reaches down and with a snarl plucks Jules from the chest of the prostrate first. Jules drives a heel up, spins, plucks his stake from his waist and stabs it quickly in the hotspot-even as the vampire realises he's about to disintegrate, Jules has moved on, tossing the stake into his left hand, pivoting on his free foot and releasing it with full venom through the air, straight and true into the chest of the charging second vampire, who's nothing more than a puff of dusty air by the time he eventually gets to Jules.

As time snaps back to normal speed, Angel and Gunn draw to a halt, and the vampire still left lying on the ground looks up at Jules with, for want of a better phrase, pant-wetting terror. Jules scoops up his stake from where it fell and backs into his two companions, keeping a watchful eye on the third vamp.

JULES: (hisses over his shoulder) Were you saying something before I-?

Angel looks about as astonished as we've ever seen him, or are ever likely to. He shares another look with Gunn-this time the subtext is a world away from the 'here we go…' glance they shared bare seconds earlier.

ANGEL: …ah (coughs slightly) nothing crucial.

JULES: I thought we could, y'know, interrogate this one. See what he knows.

GUNN: Right.

Jules looks pleased with himself.

GUNN: See what he knows about…?

There is an awkward pause as Jules' mind desperately tries to improvise. The vamp, meanwhile, is edging slowly away.

ANGEL: Hey, Jules…it's all right to be eager. I understand. No harm.

JULES: Wait-isn't this neighbourhood near that vamp nest we're hitting? This one might have been inside; we could get the scoop on any defences?

He looks questioningly at Angel and Gunn, who realise with dread that he's just done it again. Neither is willing to admit it, though. In fact, Gunn has a flash of inspiration himself…he slaps Angel on the shoulder, laughing too heartily.

GUNN: I told you he'd pass that test, didn't I!

Angel looks blank for a moment, causing Gunn to hit him again.

ANGEL: (flatly) You sure did.

There's a shout of pain, causing all three to return their attention to the vampire, who's made good of this distraction to scramble to his feet…or, well, he tried to, but failed to count on one thing-his former victim racing from the shadows of the alley where she had been discarded and kicking him soundly in the head. Repeatedly.

Jules jogs over and simply sits down on the agonised creature. He doesn't make any immediate attempt to distract the girl from her task, though.

JULES: Hey, you know, we may want him left with the ability to make sounds. What's your name?

CHARLY: Charly (kick) is my (kick) name, pleased to (kick) meet you, thanks for your (kick, kick) help.

She stops, panting.

JULES: All done? Oh go on, one more.

CHARLY: You're too kind…(kick)

ANGEL: (arriving) Are you all right?

CHARLY: I've just been chased through two miles of backstreet, I've been bitten, I'm bleeding, my clothes are shot to hell, and this bastard just wrecked my one remaining shoe.

Cursing indiscriminately and crying with anger the sheer trauma of the past night, she tears off the shoe and hurls it down the alley.

GUNN: Musta been the way you kept making him headbutt it like that.

Charly is, to put it mildly, pretty hysterical. She paces up and down, biting her nails obsessively and shirking from contact with any of them, at a loss for how to behave.

CHARLY: Oh, don't you smartmouth me! I'm the victim here! An hour I screamed, and not one person answered me, can you believe that?!

JULES: Hey…present company excepted, please?

This evident truth penetrates her daze of terror and relief, and she grins at him, suddenly seeming a lot more stable.

CHARLY: You were amazing. You saved my life.

Jules stares at her. He smiles, slowly.

CHARLY: Why'd you do that?

JULES: Why? So that you could live on, shine your light in the darkness. So that we could say to that darkness, you're not our master. You don't rule us. You hide from light. So that you can tell others, there's hope in this city. There's someone to answer your call when you can't run any more.

Beat.

CHARLY: Would you like to have sex with me, right now?

Act II, Scene XXI

Angel's car, driving away from the scene. In the distance, Charly waves to Jules (having been dropped off at her home), who waves back. He sits back in his seat and sighs, smiles a little, then leans forward to punch Angel on the shoulder.

JULES: Hey, how did I do?

ANGEL: Fine.

JULES: Mel made me learn that speech off. In case someone asked.

ANGEL: Nice. You must have it framed.

JULES: They were your moves, really. I would have been creamed without our training. Once you get the hang of these vampire reflexes, though…

GUNN: You was rash, Jules. Good, and maybe a little lucky, but rash.

JULES: Well yeah, but I thought; how many vampires actually carry around stakes? I mean, apart from you and me…it's not exactly standard-issue. So I figured the worst I was in for was being roughed up a little, I knew you two weren't far behind. Hey-how noble was I, turning her sex offer down, giving her the little speech about self-esteem and waiting and all! Come on!

ANGEL: Jules, this isn't a video game. You don't score points for each noble gesture.

JULES: You don't? I thought that was how 'atoning' worked?

Angel doesn't reply. Frustratingly, Jules has a habit of being right. He's also just outshined Angel at Angel's own calling, and it's obvious that this fact is biting down on Angel, but what can he say? It's a human failing, an ego bruise, and Angel is ashamed to admit that it even exists, but exist it does, palpably. Gunn is quiet because he senses as much, and knows and likes Angel enough to recognise that this is something he's going to work through.

Jules, unfortunately, has no such insight, and his playing the cocky upstart with gusto.

JULES: I'd say that I was looking forward to tomorrow night, but that'd only get me lectured at for the next twenty decades.

ANGEL: Jules, dammit-

JULES: What? What the hell is wrong with you? We just saved a woman from being sucked dry. We just did some good, I think we earned a little smile-time…oh wait, I forgot, you're the brooding hero type. Well, I'm not. Get used to it.

ANGEL: You're not even close to understanding what this job means. And if you keep talking like that…

JULES: …you'll what? Ground me? Who are you now, my sire and my father?

ANGEL: No. I haven't abandoned you.

The words strike home. Jules is shocked at their candidness, but there is little point denying their accuracy.

ANGEL: Accept that you're still learning. Don't bask in your own glory. Heroes, real heroes, don't get any. Ever. Your glory tonight was her thanks. Not exactly a movie deal and a tickertape parade, but that's where it ends. And when I tell you to listen to me, you damn well do it, because it will keep you kicking a little longer. Whether you like it or not, until you're human again we are stuck with each other.

Jules absorbs all of this. He still has made no reply when the car draws to a close, having reached the hotel. Angel turns off the engine and shifts in his seat to face Jules, obviously awaiting a response before doing anything else.

JULES: What time for training tomorrow?

ANGEL: Bright and early – one p.m.

Jules tilts his head, thinks about that, and gives the very smallest fraction of a tiny half-smile. With that, he leaps from the car and bounds into the hotel, gone in a moment. Angel and Gunn remain seated.

ANGEL: Did I sound convincing?

GUNN: Convincing? Man, I was this close from askin' could I have a reading light.

We close on Angel's thoughtful grin.

END OF ACT II