DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc.
CONTENT NOTE: The following story is rated PG-13 and contains scenes of graphic violence.
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Prologue
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"Oftentimes, Hell is really our own private place, deep in our minds. We create it and dwell there of our own free will until we choose to take a better path and step back out into the world." Rupert Giles
"The descent to Avernus is easy." Virgil
PROLOGUE, Scene 1, EXT. Somewhere in the desert of the Sinai Peninsula. Early morning, 1889.
The morning sun blazes down furiously from a brilliant blue sky. This is not the classic desert of rolling sand dunes as in Arabia or the Sahara but rather a nightmare desolation of twisted rocks, jagged mountain tops and dust, everywhere dust.
Deep in a ravine beneath two ridges ending in a towering peak, a small circle of tents, an archeological expedition, huddles around the false shelter of an outcropping of boulders. About a hundred yards away down the ravine, dust is rising from an area where approximately a dozen Arab workers are digging. Two men in pith helmets, clearly Europeans, are overseeing the work. One is very tall and old, the other middle aged and of average height.
Finally the elder of the two can no longer take the heat and dust. He leaves the work crew and walks hesitantly back towards the encampment. After a moment, the other follows him.
CUT TO INT. One of the tents in the camp. Day at the same time.
Dr. Anton FURTWANGLER, Professor of Archeology at the University of Munich, enters the tent. He is tall, old and frail. He walks unsteadily over to a cloth camp chair and sits down, exhausted. A moment later he is joined in the tent by Dr. Theodore MOMSEN, Professor of Classical Studies from the University of Heidelberg.
Furtwangler breathes heavily as he rests in the chair. He takes off his helmet and drops it on the tent floor. The sweat pours down his forehead.
MOMSEN
Should I call in the laborers? There's no use continuing, Anton. The message the runner brought this morning was very clear. Munich will send no more money.
FURTWANGLER
Damn them! All they want to see is gold! It's that miserable Schliemann and his cheap publicity tricks! Troy! Maecenae! (with anger and disgust) And gold, nothing but gold. Agamemnon's treasure! Hah! Doesn't matter that Schliemann's dating is all wrong!
MOMSEN
Anton...
FURTWANGLER
No, Teo, the only reason Munich backed this expedition was the chance we would discover the remains of the golden idol! Don't you see? He's made it impossible to carry on real research in the field anymore.
Furtwangler sits forward and leans toward a table near his chair. The table is covered with pot sherds, and small fragments of stone.
FURTWANGLER (cont'd)
It's not gold and gems that speak to us of the past. It's these...
Furtwangler reaches out to the table and picks up a pot sherd. He holds it out in front of him for Momsen to see.
FURTWANGLER (cont'd)
(wistfully, trying to imagine a distant time)
Who held this small water jug? Was there enough left in it to quench their thirst in this furnace of Hell? ... they were lost, frightened. How long would it be before their leader returned from the mountain? To what desperate straits were they all finally reduced?
Momsen looks down and does not answer. A look of skepticism crosses his face.
FURTWANGLER (cont'd)
(sensing his co-worker's doubt)
This *is* the place, Teo! I know it! The traces of the encampment, the blasted crater, the scorch marks on everything!
Furtwangler puts down the pot sherd and reaches for a small shred of cloth wrapped around a tiny stone fragment. He unwraps the cloth, taking care not to touch the tiny stone. The black charring of extreme heat coats the stone's edges. On the flat field of the stone appears the incomplete carving of an ancient Hebrew character, broken off at the stone's edge. Furtwangler holds it up for Momsen to see.
FURTWANGLER (cont'd)
(whispered with awe)
Teo, this might even be a piece... a piece of the first destroyed tablets... touched by the finger of the great Creative Force.
Furtwangler holds up the fragment, the look in his eyes almost pleading with Momsen for belief.
MOMSEN
(unable to hide his skepticism)
Anton...
FURTWANGLER
(sighing and putting the wrapped fragment back down on the table)
... but we'll never know, will we. Because Munich wants gold... funny how history repeats itself.
MOMSEN
(trying to be enthusiastic)
If you believe so strongly, then we'll return next year. We'll find another patron.
FURTWANGLER
No... it's done, Teo. I'm tired... ever since Anya died... It's time I went home.
MOMSEN
(nodding)
I'll go tell the men to stop the dig and begin breaking camp.
Furtwangler moves his head slowly in agreement. Momsen leaves the tent and Furtwangler sits alone. He slowly reaches out to the cloth wrapped stone fragment and takes it in his hand once more.
FURTWANGLER
(speaking quietly to the tiny piece of dirty cloth)
Forgive us... We are a foolish little people, just as they were.... Why is it nothing ever seems to change? You are a fragment of all the hopes and dreams of the human race. Hopes and dreams we, in our greed and desperation, long ago rejected and today reject once more... But You are patient. I know it is not through me that You will work Your miracle... but through one... yet to come...
Furtwangler sits silently in the tent. A rising breeze sets the tent walls and door flaps to snapping sharply, straining against their guide ropes. Outside, the heat beats down unmercifully on the laborers as they begin the job of breaking down the camp. The blowing dust hides the view of the mountain peak looming overhead and almost obscures the rays of the sun itself.
* * *
PROLOGUE, Scene 2, INT. Giles's office in the Library. Night. The Present
GILES is asleep at his desk, his face down in a pile of manuscripts. Both his office and the library are pitch dark. The only souce of illumination is the red "Exit" sign over the library door. The color of the sign is almost lurid, and it seems to float in the air over the door.
Suddenly, shattering the silence, an explosion rocks the darkness in the stacks of the library. Several bookshelves collapse in a whirling ball of flame. The wild shriek of the school FIRE ALARM causes Giles to sit bolt upright. He looks around in panic. Mingled with the blaring alarm are human cries in the library. Giles knocks his chair over and scrambles out of his office, directly into the the waiting arms of two vampires. He struggles wildly but the vampires hold him back. As he fights to free himself, everywhere he looks there are vampires.
Illuminated by the blaze of burning books and manuscripts, a nightmare scene confronts Giles. Two battles are raging before him and a third is already over. Across the library near the door, CORDELIA and XANDER lie on the floor. A spreading pool of blood flows away from their bodies. Her throat has been slit. He has been run through with a sword, and in his final futile defense of her, has fallen across her lifeless form, as if his body could still offer her some protection.
At the foot of the check out desk, Willow lies slowly writhing, a stake through her heart. Over her, Oz, now transformed into his werewolf subconscious, roars and swings wildly at a group of four vampires trying to approach them. His clawed fist sweeps out, slashing open one attacker's neck. As the injured vampire drops to its knees, the others just push it aside. Beneath Oz's furry legs, Willow has now stopped moving. In the light of the blazing books, a large blood stain spreading from her wound takes on the same hue as her red hair.
Suddenly, four more vampires, armed with crossbows, burst through the library doors. They release a hail of darts at Oz who is thrown back against the check out desk by the impact. He slowly slides to the floor. As he does, he changes back to his human form, tips forward and drops across Willow's body. Both now lie still.
GILES
(screaming)
NO!
From out of the flames, leap Buffy and Angel. In the middle of the library they stand back to back, fending off repeated attacks by vampires from all sides. Buffy's fists and feet fly, the power of the blows forcing each attacker to crumple in an ever rising mound in front of her. For a few moments, she and Angel manage to hold their own. Then, without warning, Angel breaks off his defense and turns to her back. His face transforms to the vampire rage. He grabs her by the shoulders, spins her to face him and sinks his fangs into her neck. There is only a momentary look of shock and surprise on Buffy's face as he draws the life from her before she slumps dead in his arms.
Angel, his lips smeared with Buffy's blood, looks up at Giles and grins hideously.
ANGEL
Mmm. That was worth waiting for!
GILES
(screaming)
Buffy!
Angel sweeps her corpse up into his arms and carries it across the library to stand in front of Giles. As if dropping a piece of cast off luggage, Angel lets Buffy's body fall unceremoniously to the floor before Giles. Giles ceases struggling in his captors' arms. The vampires release him, and he slides weakly to his knees beside the dead Slayer.
ANGEL
(grinning down at Giles)
And this was just the teaser! Wait'll you see the whole show!
Angel and the other vampires leave the room. Flames lick upwards to the ceiling, casting a red glow of blood and fire across Giles. He bends forward weeping silently over Buffy. The CRACKLE of the flames destroying the library and the SHRIEK OF THE FIRE ALARM blast in his ears. Suddenly, from behind him, a grey corpse-like hand rests on Giles' shoulder. He looks up in shock at the form of SCOTT standing over him. He is pale with the color of death, his face bruised and beaten with an enormous gash running across his forehead.
But behind the face of death, Scott's intense blue eyes still gaze out, and the life in them reins in Giles' fear.
GILES
(whispered)
Scott?
SCOTT
(quietly)
Sshh. I only have a moment before I am found.
Scott kneels down beside Giles and runs his hand over Buffy's bloodstained forehead.
SCOTT (cont'd)
(looking up at Giles)
This is not real... grasp on to your hope and your strength. None of this... is real. He wants to break you... and He's using your own Hell to do it... a demon built from the wreckage of a Watcher would be a prize of great price to Him. He can manipulate events,... terrorize us with our fears,... but He cannot alter reality... and before truth, He is powerless.
Giles shakes his head, bewildered by what Scott is telling him.
GILES
I... I don't understand! Where am I?
SCOTT
(holding Giles more firmly by the shoulder)
Look around you! What do you see!
Giles stares around at the blazing ruin of the library. His face is still twisted with panic, fear and horror.
SCOTT (cont'd)
(sadly)
No! You're seeing what *He* wants you to see! Look at Oz and Willow! Xander and Cordelia! He wants you to see only *their deaths!* But they fell defending each other. They fought... for love! It's the love he can't destroy or change! That's the reality! That's the truth!... Hold on to that, Giles!
Suddenly Scott looks around him in a panic as if he has been discovered.
SCOTT
(rushing to speak)
There's one other thing I can see, too... (looking up in fright) He knows! He knows I'm here! ... (whispered urgently) Giles, they're coming to save you! I can see them! Buffy, Willow and the others! I'll guide them to you! Please! Don't give up!
GILES
But Scott...
Before Giles can complete the sentence, an unseen force suddenly twists Scott's head. There is a loud snap as his body crumples to the floor of the library, dropping beside Buffy's blood stained body. Scott's arms are outstretched across her as if shielding her from the unseen entity that destroyed him. As Giles stares at their battered forms, he still hears Scott's voice speaking in a distant echo to him. Giles looks wildly around him, trying to identify the source of the voice.
SCOTT'S VOICE
(fading away)
I can see them! Buffy and the others! They're coming! The Gates lie! There *is* Hope, even in this place! Don't give up!
Giles slowly stands as Scott's voice vanishes. The library is now fully engulfed in flames. Blazing timbers drop from the ceiling, crashing down amidst the remaining book shelves that still stand. The prostrate forms of Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Oz are rapidly overwhelmed amidst the swirling blaze. From out of the whirling fires a laughing Voice rings through the library.
VOICE
Ha! Ha! Ha! Welcome, Mr. Giles!
A stern look of anger and resolve replaces the fear and panic on Giles' face
GILES
(standing)
So... it *is* you...
VOICE
That was fun... let's do it again!
CUT TO BLACK
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