Disclaimer: Based on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, whose indulgence I humbly beg.

Timeframe: This script takes place after "Grave" and before the beginning of Season 7.

Prologue

Filmed in color. At night, in Dawn’s bedroom. Sound of heavy rain falling outside. A flash of lightning lights the room. Dawn is in bed, asleep. The camera focuses on Dawn’s face.

Filmed in black and white. Dawn is walking down a narrow path bordered by trees. These trees are unusual, though, as they are made of metal – bronze with oak-type leaves, silver with long, narrow leaves, black with leaves made from faceted crystal. The path ends at the banks of a river. The river is obviously made of blue cardboard placed to simulate ripples. Tied by the bank is a rowboat; a man is sitting in it. He is about thirty, has dark hair and is wearing old-fashioned tails. Stars dangle from overhead wires. Somewhere, music plays "It’s Only a Paper Moon." Dawn stops at the edge of the river.

Dawn: Why am I dreaming about an old movie set?
Man: Oh, is it out of date? The time element is so tricky.
Dawn: Huh?
Man: It doesn’t matter, really. Will you be crossing the river?
Dawn: Crossing the river?
Man: Yes, you know, crossing the river. To get to the other side. Are you ready?
Dawn: I guess so. I mean, it’s just a dream, right?
Man: Depends on how you look at it. (Man stands and helps Dawn into the boat. They sit.)
Dawn: What do you mean?
Man: Well, technically speaking – (breaks off as if he had changed his mind about what he was going to say). But it’s quite true that you are asleep. (The boat starts to move jerkily through the water as Man pretends to row.)
Dawn: Whoa! What’s making this thing move?
Man: The stagehands, of course. There’s a union, you know.
Dawn (peering over the side of the boat): I don’t see anybody…
Man (laughing): You’re not supposed to.
Dawn: Right. Of course. So, what’s your name?
Man (laughing): I’d rather not tell… too embarrassing. It sounds like a girl’s name.
Dawn: Oh. Bummer. Well, what’s the name of the river?
Man: The Styx.

Act I

Filmed in color. At night, in the Summers’ kitchen. Buffy, dressed in a bathrobe, is seen pottering about. A thunderstorm rages outside. Willow enters.

Willow: Hey, Buffy.
Buffy (jumps): Oh my God, Willow!
Willow: Sorry, Buff. I guess you didn’t hear me come in with all the racket outside.
Buffy: Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me neither. Do you want some hot chocolate? Thought I’d better make it while the going was good. If the storm knocks the lights out, I want to be fully chocolate-prepared.
Willow: Sounds good. Strike while the microwave is hot. (Sits at kitchen table.)
Buffy (busy with mugs et cetera): I’m surprised Dawn hasn’t woken up, too. Ah, youth. (Sighs.) Why do I feel sooooo old? And have you noticed how tall she’s getting?
Willow: Yes, she’s taller than you are now.
Buffy (bringing Willow a cup): And what’s fair about that, I’d like to know? I mean, if they made her out of me, where in blazes did that tall gene come from?
Willow: Life’s kinda like that. Sucky at times.
Buffy (sits at table): Yeah, I know. Unexpected. (Lightning, followed by loud crash of thunder.) Ouch!
Willow: That was close.
Buffy: So how are things going, really?
Willow: Really?
Buffy: Well, make it the Cliff Notes version. (Apologetically.) I don’t mean that, I just mean –
Willow: I know what you mean. I’m okay, really. And I’m glad school is over. Although my grades may not be – but who cares, right? I mean, this past year – the only one I really cared about was me. Oh! And that reminds me – I have something to give you. It’s upstairs. I’ll be right back. (Stands up.)
Buffy: See if Dawn is awake, okay? Tell her there’s cocoa.
Willow: Okay. (Leaves room.)

Inside Dawn’s bedroom. Willow opens the door and looks in. Dawn in is bed, asleep. Willow quietly backs out and shuts door. Camera focuses on Dawn’s face. She twitches slightly in her sleep.

Filmed in black and white. Dawn is back in her dream.

Dawn (startled): The Styx? But – that’s in hell!
Man: Nah, it just got a bad reputation from the trades. Don’t worry about it. Here we are. (They pull up at the far bank of the river. The Man jumps ashore and helps Dawn out.) Just follow the path.
Dawn: I have to go by myself?
Man: I’m afraid so. Budget cuts, you see. (The Man gets back in the boat and "rows" away. Dawn watches for a moment.)
Dawn: I’m not sure I’m loving this dream.

Dawn follows another path through the same sort of trees. There is a sudden sound of crickets chirping – as if the cricket recording had just been turned on. Dawn plucks a leaf from one of the trees – a bronze oak leaf. She continues to walk, and comes to a clearing where there is a terrace in front of an art deco mansion. The crickets cease abruptly. Around the terrace, Chinese lanterns are hung from the trees. Cardboard cutouts of people can be seen "dancing" inside the ballroom through the French windows. On the terrace, there is a small table and two chairs. A man is sitting at the table, on top of which sits an old-fashioned radio, emitting music – a light baritone singing "I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire." The man is the same man as the one in the rowboat.)

Dawn: Weren’t you just –
Man: Just what?
Dawn: Forget it. This isn’t supposed to be logical, is it? (Man looks at her quizzically.) Do you have a name you can tell me?
Man: Of course. It’s Mr. Kirby.
Dawn (holding out the bronze leaf): Why are the trees made of metal?
Man: This is a dark realm. Nothing can grow here. Although we do have some pomegranates. Would you care for one? (Dawn shakes her head.) No one ever does.
Dawn (Dawn puts the leaf in her pajama pocket and searches for a subject of conversation): Nice tune.
Man: Music! Ah yes. Thank you for reminding me. Sit down, sit down, do. (Dawn sits at the table. The man turns the dial on the radio. At first, only squeals and static emerge. He continues to fiddle.)
Radio Voice I: Linkin Park, down one and one-half… Eminem, down one and three-eighths… Avril Lavigne…
Dawn: Uh –
Man: Shhh… let me just get these closing prices…
Radio Voice I: Down one half… Lifehouse, down one and one-eighth…
Man (turning volume down, and shaking his head sadly): A very bad day for popular music.
Dawn: What was that?
Man (surprised): The stock market, of course. Don’t you have that in your world? (Fiddles with the knob some more.) Now listen, this is important.
Radio Voice II: Passy vingt-deux-quinze. Attendez, s’il vous plait. Passy vingt-deux- quinze. Respondez –
Man (fiddles again): Oh sorry, wrong channel. Here we go. Pay attention now.
Radio Voice III emits sounds that resemble singing played backwards.
Man: Now, would you translate that for me, please?
Dawn (apologetically): Um… Paul is dead?
Man: I beg your pardon? What does that mean, "Paul is dead?"
Dawn: Actually, I don’t know what that means. Someone said it to me once when… never mind. Sorry… joke?
Man: Do you mean you don’t understand Crossing the River?
Dawn: Huh?
Man: Crossing the River. It’s a language that all experienced witches know. We thought for sure –
Dawn (interrupting): But I’m not a witch!
Man: Not a witch? (Dawn shakes her head firmly. Man stands and walks to a microphone at the edge of the terrace. It is the type of microphone used for old radio broadcasts. He speaks into it.) I want to know exactly who is responsible for this mess. How do you expect me to work without the right people? (He pauses, as if listening to a control room voice. We, however, hear nothing.) That’s all very well and good, but – (He pauses again as if he had been interrupted.) All right, all right, I’ll see what I can do. But this wasn’t in our agreement. (Man walks back to the table and re-seats himself. He looks closely at Dawn.) So, you are the Key?
Dawn (somewhat apologetically): That’s me. Up close and personal.
Man: Perhaps that’s why – (breaks off and pauses). This might still work. Let me – perhaps you can help us. (Pauses again.) I think I must tell you the truth about this place.
Dawn (in a frightened voice): Is this hell?
Man: No, not in the way you mean – no rings of fire, no little red devils with pitchforks. But no one is sent here as a reward, exactly.
Dawn: What did you all do?
Man: Nothing very bad, I assure you! But you see – (Breaks off and sighs.) This is a dying world. No one has been sent here for a long time. There used to be many portals between this world and others. Now, there is only the one – to your world. But lately, even that has been impassable. But if you’re the Key – perhaps that’s why you came when we called, instead of the witch.
Dawn: But… Why do you need a witch?
Man: Not so very long ago, a monster came here to lay waste to this world. Unless he is stopped, he will extinguish this world completely. (Sees Dawn’s anxious look.) Don’t be frightened, we have him contained – for now. (Pauses.) We were advised that the radio message would tell us how to destroy him. But we need a translation. Ah well.
Dawn: I’m sorry.
Man: Are you willing to try to help us?
Dawn: Sure. I guess. What do I –
Man (interrupting): How very charming! Then let’s get you started on the journey. (They stand and he leads her to a very ornate moderne elevator, stage right of the terrace. There are words carved above it in Italian. He pushes a button to call the elevator, and they stand waiting.) You know, they say that this world will end anyway when winter comes and it starts to snow.
Dawn: Why?
Man: Well, there’s a saying, you know… (The elevator door open.) Ah, here we are. (Motions for her to enter.)
Dawn: Do I have to go by myself again? (Man nods.) I’m kind of scared… What do those words say? (Gestures to the carved words above the elevator.)
Man: Oh, just some foreign gibberish. You’re lucky that the elevator is working today – it’s a long way. (Dawn gets in the elevator.) (Intones in a slightly nasal voice.) Going down! Next stop – Eighth circle, featuring special prices on all impersonators in stock! (Dawn, looking frightened, attempts to get out of the elevator, but Man pushes her gently back.) Sorry… joke? (The elevator doors close.)

Act II

Filmed in color. The Summers’ kitchen. The storm continues to rage. Buffy is sitting at the table. Willow re-enters, carrying a check.

Willow: Dawn was sleeping like the dead, so I didn’t wake her. (She holds the check out awkwardly for Buffy, who takes it.) Here. (Willow sits at table.)
Buffy (looks at the check): What’s this for?
Willow: It’s the rent. The rent I should have been paying all this time.
Buffy: Willow, you don’t have to do this.
Willow (determinedly): Yes, I do. Really. I do.
Buffy: Thanks, Will, this will help so much… Dawn needs clothes for school. Although, the clothes she wants are probably not the clothes I want her to buy… Am I a fuddy-duddy? When did I become a fuddy-duddy?
Willow: Maybe you always had that fuddy-duddy potential, but you just didn’t know it.
Buffy (sighs): Maybe… That’s one good thing, though, she can’t borrow my sweaters anymore.
Willow: Why not?
Buffy: ‘Cause she gotten so much… taller (significant look at Willow).
Willow (looking at Buffy’s chest): Oh, yeah, of course.

A particularly loud thunderclap is followed by the sound of knocking at the kitchen door. Both Buffy and Willow look startled.

Buffy (standing up): Who can that be at this hour?
Willow (anxiously): Should you open it? It might be demons or monsters –
Buffy (interrupting in a dry tone): Or creeps, oh my. Willow, demons don’t knock… (Buffy walks to the door and opens it, revealing a wet Spike with his coat pulled over his head.) Usually.
Spike: Hi.
Buffy: Spike. You’re back.
Spike: Got it in one.
Buffy (rather uncomfortable): What do you want?
Spike: To come in. And get dry. That’s all, okay? (Buffy hesitates and then nods. Spike enters, shaking the raindrops off.) Thanks. Hey, Willow.
Willow: Hey, Spike. Do you want some hot chocolate?
Spike: Sure. Thanks. (Spike sits at the kitchen table. As he does so, a book falls out of his coat pocket. Willow picks it up and looks at the spine.)
Willow: Yeats. Good choice (hands the book back to Spike, who puts in back in his pocket).
Buffy (sitting down): Poetry?
Spike: Go to the head of the class, Slayer.
Buffy: Since when did you read poetry?
Spike: Got it to read on the ship. Travel broadens the mind, you know.
Willow: How was Africa?
Spike: Hot.
Buffy: That’s it – hot? Is that an example of your being all travel-broadened? Not much of an endorsement for the travel industry.
Spike: Yeah, well, I was busy.
Buffy: So, what are you doing here?
Spike (embarrassed): I was just… I didn’t want… The crypt is just so damn gloomy. I really need to redecorate that place. Cheer it up a bit.
Buffy: Um… I see some nice, Necco-wafer colors…
Spike: Eew. Sounds like someone needs to have her Jetsons-viewing privileges revoked.
Buffy: Well, what did you have in mind?
Spike: I was thinking about something classy – sort of English country house – sporting prints and all that – and that fabric – you know – the stuff with the pattern that looks like amoebas…
Willow: Paisley?
Buffy: Been channeling the Ghost of Ralph Lauren Past?
Willow (apologetically): It’s a little passe.
Spike: Good taste is never passe.
Willow: It sounds to me as if you were just plain lonely.
Spike (blustering): Lonely? Me? Not bloody like–. (Pauses.) Willow – I’m sorry about –. (Breaks off in embarrassment.)
Willow: I know. Thanks, Spike.
Spike: I liked her. She was… good. (Willow and Buffy look at him.) Listen, just because of some little difficulties in my personal situation, doesn’t mean I can’t recognize good when I see it.
Buffy: Little difficulties?
Spike: Yeah.
Buffy (pensively): I think we’ve all had our little difficulties this past year…
Spike (ironically): And the Understatement Award goes to… Ms Buffy Summers!
Buffy: But you know what? I think we should just forget about all that crap.
Willow (seriously): Buffy, it’s not that easy.
Buffy (squeezes Willow’s hand): I know, Willow. But for tonight… Let’s just call it pax for tonight, okay?
Willow (suddenly makes up her mind): Deal.
Spike: Deal. (Brief silence. It is still raining.) Oh, I brought something to raise our spirits (stands up). A bottle of Bailey’s. (Struggles with the bottle in his coat pocket.) Damn it, it’s stuck in here.
Buffy: You have a bottle of Bailey’s in your pocket? (Starts to giggle.) Oh no, I can’t believe I was going to say – going to say – (Puts her head down on the table, laughing hysterically) is that a bottle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
Spike (looks down at decided bulge made by the bottle): Don’t you wish.
Buffy (still laughing hysterically): No, don’t you wish!
Willow: So Spike, you brought Bailey’s? You never struck me as a Bailey’s kind of guy.
Spike (finally extricating the bottle, and twisting the top off): Discount price at the duty-free store. Any takers besides me?
Buffy (recovering): So now you’re trying to get me drunk?
Spike: No, I’m trying to get me drunk. It’s a whole –
Buffy (interrupting): Different vibe. I know, I know.
Willow (shoves her cup towards Spike): Well, I’m in.
Buffy (after a brief mental tussle, also shoves her cup towards Spike): Me, too. Set ‘em up, barkeep.

Filmed in black and white. The elevator doors open. A man is waiting outside them. He is the same man as in the previous scenes. A corridor, with doors at intervals along its walls, and a particularly heavy door at the end, can be seen behind him. It all looks very businesslike and functional. Somewhere, someone is practicing scales.

Dawn: You again? What’s your name this time?
Man (taking Dawn’s arm): Um, Jerry will be close enough.
Dawn: Where are we?
Man: These are our rehearsal rooms.
Dawn: Oh! What are you rehearsing?
Man (speaking as they walk, and stopping by the first door): Well, let’s see… In this room, it’s a play about star-crossed lovers, prisoners of their obsessions… A story full of passion and sorrow… The question is, do they belong together or not?
Dawn: Well, do they?
Man: We have to wait and see.
Dawn (excited voice): May I look?
Man (glancing in the window): How old did you say you were?
Dawn: I didn’t. (Man gives her a look.) Okay. Fifteen.
Man: Perhaps another time. (They move on slowly.) Over here, a classical tragedy. A woman mourns for her dead lover, vows revenge, and is tormented by guilt. We hoped that Joan Crawford would play the part, but it was not to be…
Dawn: Why not?
Man: She’s under contract elsewhere. (They stop towards the end of the hall.) And here, a delightful little drama – boy meets girl, boy looses girl after committing an act of unbelievable folly, boy tries to decide if he wants girl back again. They both took bad advice, I fear. We’re thinking of turning it into a musical. (Turns to the door on the left.) Now, this room might be suitable. They’re rehearsing a ballet – Sleeping Beauty.

Man opens the door and they enter the room. The Waltz from the Sleeping Beauty is playing – but the music has a rather tinny quality, as if it came from a music box. On a dais, at the front of the room, a young woman lies on a bier surrounded by gauzy veils. Dawn and Man approach her. The young woman, dressed in a rich and glittering dress of the Renaissance period, is apparently asleep. Dawn moves closer. The young woman is revealed as Dawn herself. Dawn screams.

Act III

Filmed in black and white. In Sleeping Beauty’s room.

Dawn (hysterically): It’s – it’s – me! How can it be me?
Man: Hush, it’s not you, she just looks like you.
Dawn (making at effort to recover herself): She has better clothes. Why doesn’t she move?
Man: She’s sleeping. It’s a rehearsal, you see. Although I’ve always felt that Method Acting was overrated.
Dawn: Are you sure she’s not me?
Man (comfortingly): Quite, quite sure. (Dawn still looks doubtful.) You can trust me.
Dawn: Why is she here – in this world, I mean.
Man: Let me see… ah yes. Copyright Infringement. It’s a serious offense. But time and tide, you know. You must see our monster now – he’s the highlight of the tour. This way, please. (He takes Dawn by the arm again.)

Filmed in black and white. Dawn and Man have entered the room at the end of the hall. Man is just closing the door behind them. The camera is on Dawn’s face. She looks both frightened and amazed.

Dawn: Is that it?

Camera pans around to a creature standing completely still. However, although the monster is not moving, his shape is constantly changing. First he looks like a robot, then a gorilla, then a man from Mars, then a werewolf, then a mummy. He does not change all at once, but is in a constant state of flux.

Man (from behind Dawn): Quite the attraction, isn’t he? "Hell is empty, and all the devils are here!" So to speak.
Dawn: Why does he keep changing like that?
Man: He’s an Ephemera Demon. It’s what they do. Take a closer look – (Dawn looks frightened.) Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you. He’s trapped in a force field. Go on.
Dawn (still not moving forward): What does he do?
Man: Oh, nothing original – torments souls and tears up the place generally. You should see what he’s done to our liability insurance rates. Money thrown away, really.
Dawn: Huh?
Man: And time is money, isn’t it? Even here. So a thousand pardons, but we do need to get this show on the road. (Man grabs Dawn by the arm. He slashes her wrist with a knife, and pushes her towards the monster. She falls against the demon.) Lights! (Klieg lights come on.) Camera! (An old-fashioned camera stars to roll.) Action!

The monster comes to life, and clutches Dawn. She shrieks and struggles.

Dawn (speaking to Man): Why? Why did you do this to me?
Man (sighing): There was no other way. But since you’re the Key – you can take him back to your dimension, which will solve our problem nicely.
Dawn (continues to struggle, but is held fast): And then what do I do with him?
Man: Well… (In a surprised tone.) I don’t quite know, to tell you the truth. (Blood is flowing freely from Dawn’s wrist. Dawn and the Ephemera begin to glow with a greenish light.) You’ll have to improvise.

A portal is torn in the wall of the room. Dawn and the Ephemera are drawn into the portal. The portal closes.

Man: "These our actors,/ As I foretold you, were all spirits/ and melted into air, into thin air." (Pauses.) That’s a wrap, I think.

Filmed in color. Back to the Summers’ kitchen, later the same evening. Buffy, Willow and Spike are not quite drunk, but have definitely reached the giggly stage. They are sitting around the kitchen table.

Spike: And then there was that Ysaid monster that you hit over the head with Giles’ umbrella…
Buffy (laughing hysterically and beating her fist on the table): Wait, wait, wait…
Spike: And then Giles said, "You broke my brolly…"
Willow (laughing): And then, and then…
Spike: Giles said, "At least if you’re going to damage my property, do so effectively. This demon hardly even has its hair mussed."
Buffy (shrieking): Mussed! Mussed!
Willow: And then he said, "I was fond of that umbrella. I lost it twice on the Underground, but it always came back to me…"
Buffy: And then Spike said, "Your umbrella is an albatross?" (Giggles subside rather abruptly.)
Willow: Well, it was funny at the time…
Buffy: Yeah, I guess we kinda had to be there. (Brief silence.)
Spike: By the way, have you guys seen Hallie lately?
Buffy: No, and why exactly would we want to?
Spike: Oh, come on, she’s not that bad.
Buffy: Spike, she’s a Vengeance Demon. Vengeance. Demon. And she tried to trap us here forever. Why do you want to see her, anyway?
Spike (evasively): I don’t. Not really. Just curious.
Buffy (dryly): Right.
Willow: I think I better stop now, or this stuff will turn me into a gigantic drunken blemish.
Buffy: Willow, only you would say "blemish."
Willow: Okay, zit. Zit zit zit zit zit. See? (Sits up very straight.) I, too, can be tough and slangy.
Buffy: Yes, but you’re embarrassed now, aren’t you? ‘Fess up.
Spike: Thank God we’re not trying to get her to say f-- uh, "phooey."
Buffy: And anyway, all that stuff about chocolate causing zits is a pack of lies brought to you by the Anti-Chocolate Defamation League. Fight misinformation. Have some more. (Buffy pours more liquor into their mugs.)
Willow (warningly): Okay, but we’ll get fat.
Buffy (snorting): Fat? If we get struck by lightning tonight and die, there’ll be three pathetically skinny little corpses sitting at this table. Or –
Willow: Two pathetically skinny little corpses and one skimpy little pile of dust.
Spike: I can’t get fat. No vampire is allowed to be fat.
Willow (mock seriously): Oh, I agree. It’s just so not right.
Buffy: And besides, then they don’t let them pose for the Vamp calendar.
Willow (with her fingers making quotation marks in the air): "Boys of the Undead?"
Buffy (giggling): "Boys of the Tomb."
Spike: Here, now, show some respect, please.
Buffy: January – shows a Vampire wearing a diaper with a quiver of arrows.
Willow: Yes, but his forehead is all like this (scrunches up her forehead with her fingers).
Buffy: Yes, and the arrows are dripping B-L-O-O-D.
Willow: And February is Valentine Vamp. Only with real hearts.
Spike (disapprovingly): Hey, we don’t do that!
Buffy: March – St. Patrick’s Day with leprechaun vamps.
Willow: Might be a good opportunity for the pudgy vamps to get into the act. Okay, April – A herd of Vampire Easter bunnies!
Buffy (shrieking): With those teeth! Now I know what Anya meant!
Willow: May – um (pauses). Nope, I can’t think of anything. May is officially a dud month. So – June – wedding vamps.
Buffy: July – Uncle Sam vamp!
Willow: Pointing! "Uncle Vamp Wants You!"
Spike (satirically): Very funny.
Willow: August – um.
Buffy: Oh hell, another dud.
Willow: No, I’ve got it! Vamps at the beach!
Buffy (giggling): Sounds like a cocktail.
Spike (sarcastically): At the beach? (Willow still looks blank.) In the sun?
Willow: Oh. (Suddenly inspired.) At night! Under the full moon!
Buffy (sarcastically): Nice recovery, Will. (A crash is heard from upstairs.) What was that? Did that come from Dawn’s room?
Willow: I’ll go see. (Willow stands up and moves a bit unsteadily to the door, causing Buffy and Spike to giggle. Willow gives them a chagrined look over her shoulder.)

Filmed in color. In the Summers’ entry. Willow enters the hallway and heads upstairs. At that moment, the Ephemera comes downstairs, knocking her down. She tumbles to the bottom of the staircase, screaming. The Ephemera pauses on the staircase. Buffy and Spike run out into the hallway.

Buffy (helping Willow up): What the hell is that?

Act IV

Filmed in color. In the Summers’ entry. Buffy, Willow and Spike face the stairway, where the Ephemera Monster stands, still shifting its appearance every few seconds.

Buffy: Willow, are you okay?
Willow (rubbing her arm): Yes, I think so.
Buffy (Buffy, Willow and Spike back up as the monster comes down the stairs towards them): Go up to Dawn and see if she’s okay. Spike and I will take care of this.
Spike: We will? Oh yeah, right.

Willow edges past the monster and runs upstairs.

Filmed in color. Dawn’s room. Willow runs in, switching on the light. Dawn is still in bed, apparently asleep.

Willow (sitting on the bed and shaking Dawn): Dawn, Dawn, wake up!

Dawn sits straight up in bed and gasps. Her eyes are wide but blank. Her mouth opens and the sounds of Crossing the River emanate from it.

Willow: Oh my God. (Willow shakes Dawn by the shoulders.) Dawn, wake up!
Dawn (sleepily): What is it? (Yawning.) I just had the strangest –. Ow! (Looks at her wrist, where there is a deep cut.) My wrist!
Willow: Are you okay? (Dawn nods, looking confused. Sounds of fighting emanate from downstairs.) I need to go help Buffy and Spike. There’s this bizarre monster downstairs…
Dawn: Is it the Presto Chango guy?
Willow: How did you know?
Dawn: He’s from my dream. (Starts to get out of bed.) I’m coming with you.
Willow: Then hurry.

Filmed in color. The Summers’ entry. Buffy and Spike are grappling with the monster.

Buffy: Why do we always have to have these battles inside the house? Spike, help me move this into the kitchen, okay? Maybe we can get him out into the yard.
Spike: Sounds like a plan.

The camera follows them as they struggle and crash into the kitchen.

Filmed in color. The Summers’ kitchen. The monster is just inside the door to the hallway. Buffy looks around desperately for a weapon, and grabs the bottle of Bailey’s by its neck from the kitchen table.

Spike: No, not that! (Spike takes the bottle out of Buffy’s hand and gives her a rolling pin instead.) Use this!
Buffy: You and your Bailey’s! This might be going a little better if I wasn’t so drunk…ish!
Spike: How was I supposed to know that this thing was going to come barreling in?

The monster advances. Buffy aims a kick in his direction but he dodges and broadsides her. She steps back and prepares to clobber him with the rolling pin. He knocks it out of her hand. The rolling pin goes flying into a corner. The demon grabs her by the neck but Buffy twists herself free, finally landing a punch to his jaw. He appears unfazed. During this, Spike is standing against the counter. Although he looks as if he wants to help, he doesn’t seem to quite know what to do or how to do it.

Buffy: Spike, can you hold up your end a little better? I’m getting the stuffing beaten out of me here!
Spike: Yes, yes, of course. (Spike plunges into the fray and the three of them collapse on the floor. The demon emerges from the pile first, knocking over the kitchen table and scattering the chairs. Spike gets up, grabs a chair, and attempts to hit the monster, but is immediately knocked backwards by a counterattack. He crumples on the floor. Buffy distracts the monster while Spike half-crawls into a corner. He is obviously injured. The monster now has Buffy pinned against his chest, with his arm across her throat. Willow and Dawn enter. Willow rushes to Buffy’s aid, trying to pull the monster’s arm away. Dawn kneels by Spike, helping him into a sitting position.

Willow: Buffy, I think I know how to destroy this thing. When Dawn woke up, she was speaking Crossing the River.
Buffy (struggling in the monster’s grasp): Crossing the what?
Willow: Crossing the River. Ancient Wiccan language.
Buffy: Oh. Where’d you learn it?
Willow: On the Internet.
Buffy: And Dawn was speaking it? How did that happen?
Willow (apologetically): I think we’ll have to do the catch-up part later.
Buffy: Gotcha.
Willow: But what she said… it’s how to get rid of this thing.
Dawn (enunciating carefully): Ephemera demon. That’s his name.
Buffy (gasping and choking a little): Thanks for the tip.
Willow: Don’t worry, it’s not a spell… no calling on any powers – higher or lower. It’s more just like directions. But I can’t remember the meaning of the last word… it’s something really simple that we need, just some household ingredient… (Willow and Buffy have succeeded in pulling the Ephemera’s arm away. They both step back. Buffy leans her hands on her knees, trying to get her breath.)
Buffy: Where’s the Wiccan/English dictionary when you need it?
Willow: Paprika? No. Oregano? No. (The monster lunges towards Buffy.)
Dawn (picking up the rolling pin and standing): Buffy, watch out!

Buffy and the creature grapple again. The monster hits Buffy repeatedly, and she doesn’t seem to be able to land a meaningful punch. She is tiring but keeps on swinging.

Dawn (panicky): Willow, hurry!
Willow: I just can’t –. (Suddenly inspired.) Salt! It’s salt!
Buffy: Salt? We can destroy this thing using salt? (Willow nods, and starts to search through the cupboard.) You mean it’s just a big giant slug? That’s worse than the ending of "It."
Willow (desperately): Buffy, I can’t find the salt!
Spike: With my luck, you probably ran out yesterday.
Buffy: Don’t be silly. We’re never out of salt. I consider salt to be an essential vitamin… um, mineral… um, something. (Buffy fends off a blow successfully and delivers a kick that makes the demon cower slightly. She seems suddenly re-energized.)
Spike (sternly): It’s very bad for you.
Buffy: I don’t care. I (punches the demon) LIKE (kicks the demon) SALT! (The monster is now the one who seems to be tiring.) I put salt on… (punches the demon) eggs! I put salt on… (punches the demon) steak! I put salt on… (punches the demon) FRENCH-FRIES! (Buffy punches the demon three times in quick succession. The Ephemera is unable to avoid the blows effectively.)
Willow (triumphantly, with the salt carton in her hand): Here it is! It was hidden behind the soy sauce.

Buffy continues to pummel the monster, forcing him toward Spike and Dawn. As the monster moves backwards, Spike puts out a leg and trips him. The monster stumbles and falls on one knee, but starts to rise again, until Dawn hits him with the rolling pin.

Buffy: Oh goody, The Outer Limits meets Lucy Ricardo.

Willow approaches with the salt carton. She stands over the monster and pours a stream of salt over it. Nothing happens.

Spike (disgustedly): Great. Now what?
Willow: Wait, there are some words I have to say –. But I don’t know what they mean…
Buffy (exasperated): Willow, for God’s sake, you can attend the seminar later – just say them, already!
Willow: Right. (Intoning loudly): It’s in the can! Clear the set, please!

The monster grows dimmer and dimmer and fades out. Spike stands up.

Buffy (collapsing onto a chair): Did we finish the Bailey’s?

Epilogue

Filmed in color. The Summers’ kitchen, later. Buffy, Willow and Spike are once again seated at the kitchen table. Buffy and Spike are looking the worse for wear. Dawn is perched on a countertop. Her wrist is now bandaged.

Buffy: So what was that thing called?
Dawn: Ephemera demon.
Buffy: Say what?
Spike (teasingly): Uh oh, and it’s on the quiz later.
Buffy: Spike, shut up. Where’s the English/English dictionary when I need it.
Spike: It means something of passing interest.
Buffy: How do you know that?
Spike: I used it once in a –. (Breaks off in confusion.) Just basic knowledge.
Willow (standing up): That’s it for me. I’m for bed.
Dawn (hopping off the countertop): Me, too.
Buffy: Dawn, you’re sure you’re okay?
Dawn: I’m fine. I just hope I don’t dream.
Buffy (fervently): I hear you. (Willow and Dawn leave the kitchen.) Listen… the rain’s stopped. It’ll be morning soon… you better leave.
Spike: Morning? Why would – oh, yeah, of course. (Spike stands up and puts his coat on. Buffy also stands up.) Buffy, I’m sorry I wasn’t much help back there with the Man of a Thousand Faces.
Buffy: You did what you could. That’s good enough for me.
Spike: And I wanted to say… that I feel really… well, I just want you to know…
Buffy: It’s pax for tonight, remember? (Buffy puts out her right hand. Spike looks at it for a moment, and then takes it in his own. They shake hands.)
Spike (smiling ruefully): Pax it is.

Filmed in color. In Dawn’s room. She gets into bed and turns off the light. A moment later, she sits up in bed and turns the light back on, feeling under the pillow. She grasps something and pulls it out – it is the bronze oak leaf. She holds it, staring straight in front of her, seeing nothing except what is in her mind’s eye.

Filmed in black and white. We are on the path on the far side of the river Styx. It is snowing. We see the empty rowboat. The camera pans and follows the path towards the terrace. As we approach the terrace, we see Mr. Kirby sitting at the table. The camera pans in. Mr. Kirby is slumped over; he is clearly dead. The camera continues to come even closer, focusing on his arm in its dark sleeve resting on the table. The snow has piled up, and we can see quite clearly that the snow is composed of soap flakes. The radio is playing "Dancing In the Dark." The cutout people continue to dance in the lighted ballroom, but the lights are growing dim.

The camera moves to the elevator. As we approach, the doors open. The scene dissolves to the rehearsal room corridor. It is snowing here, too. The camera moves down the corridor. As we move closer to the end of the corridor, the door to Sleeping Beauty’s room opens, and we enter. We hear the tinny music box playing the Sleeping Beauty waltz. We approach the dais. Sleeping Beauty still lies there. The snow is piling up around her, but as yet few flakes have touched her face. The lights continue to dim, until they finally go totally out. The music lasts a second or so longer, but then it, too fades out completely.

Filmed in color. Dawn’s bedroom. She is still sitting up in bed, holding the bronze leaf, and staring in front of her, unseeing.


Author’s notes:
My thanks go to Dante, Jean Cocteau, and www.hsx.com for their unwitting assistance with this story.
Students of Dante will perceive that I have messed around with the geography of "The Inferno" disgracefully. Deal with it.
Unlike Willow, I could not find out very much about "Crossing the River" on the Internet. It is, or was, a real language, based on ancient Hebrew. But that’s all I know. So don’t ask me to teach it to you.
The quotations in Act III are from Shakespeare’s "The Tempest."