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Violently Happy	By : marksandspence Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - Het - Male/Female Views: 3216 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part1a
- 2-Part1b
- 3-Part1c
- 4-Part1d
- 5-Part1e
- 6-Part2a
- 7-Part2b
- 8-Part3a
- 9-Part3b
- 10-Part3c
- 11-Part4a
- 12-Part4b
- 13-Part4c
- 14-Part4d
- 15-Part5a
- 16-Part5b
- 17-Part5c
- 18-Part5d
- 19-Part5e
- 20-Part5f
- 21-Part5g
- 22-Part5h
- 23-Part6a
- 24-Part6b
- 25-Part6c
- 26-Part6d
- 27-Part6e
- 28-p.s. Flight of Fancy
- 17
- 18
- 19
Scene 7
A quiet bar in L.A. Shot of Lindsey sitting at a bar table, sipping on a drink. We see Miranda walk in and look around. Spotting him, she quickly walks over. He stands up to greet her. They kiss on the cheek and she sits down.
Lindsey: “Miranda—looking lovely as ever.”
Miranda: “Thank Sergei at Canale Salon—he did the highlights. Took all bloody afternoon, too.”
Lindsey: “What can I get you?”
Miranda: “Scotch, straight up” [he orders]
Lindsey: “That’s where most of your money came from, right? Scotch.”
Miranda: “Most. My late husband left me a fair share.”
Lindsey: “Sorry I never got to meet him—he must’ve been something.”
Miranda: “I don’t think you two would have hit it off—he hated lawyers.”
Lindsey: “Doesn’t everybody?”
Miranda: “I don’t know. I’m rather fond of them—they always seem to be able to get me what I want.”
Her drink arrives. She takes a deep sip.
Lindsey: “I’m afraid that I brought you here under somewhat false pretenses. I don’t have your earring.”
Miranda: [playfully] “Lindsey. If you wanted to ask me out on a date, you needn’t have gone to all the trouble.”
Lindsey: [smiles] “Not that a date with you isn’t a worthwhile pursuit, but that’s not the reason. When you were in my office the other day—I’d wanted to talk to you about something. Something personal. I wouldn’t normally...[he’s a bit uncomfortable].....we’ve known each other a while—this isn’t the first time we’ve shared a drink, so…would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
Miranda: “Hm. You’ve certainly gotten my curiosity up—go on then.”
Lindsey: “This man—William—who you got the documents for. He’s a vampire.”
Miranda: “He is.”
Lindsey: “How long have you been together?”
Miranda: “Let’s see. I guess six months or so. We share a house up in Sunnydale.”
Lindsey: “So he actually lives there with you?”
Miranda: “He does.”
Lindsey: “What do you do about the kills? You haven’t contacted us—how do you avoid the police?”
Miranda: “He doesn’t kill. We have an arrangement” [not really wanting to discuss the chip]
Lindsey: “Huh. [He finishes his drink and orders another] Blood?”
Miranda: “A mixture—human blood when we can get it from hospitals and blood banks. Pigs blood if necessary. My blood, what I can spare.”
Lindsey: “And that’s enough?”
Miranda: “It does the job.”
Lindsey: [His drink arrives and he downs it. He suddenly seems almost vulnerable—sad] “He loves you? [she nods] They can love?”
Miranda: [sad/guilty] “Yes. Not so different from us in that regard. [sensing why he’s asking] Of course ‘can’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘will’. Do you love her? [he just shrugs] I don’t know that I’d take the risk if I were mortal—an extra second or two and that’s it.”
Lindsey: “He bites you?”
Miranda: “I have the luxury of knowing he can’t kill me, even if he wanted to.”
Lindsey: “What’s it like?”
Miranda: “Incredible—if you don’t mind a touch of pain. Unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”
Lindsey: “I don’t think I could trust her. I know I couldn’t trust myself.”
Miranda: [trying to lighten the mood] “On the bright side, you’ve only got your soul to lose and you’re already a lawyer...”
Lindsey: [he laughs at this; his demeanor changes as he gets hold of himself] “Maybe you’re right. Thanks for indulging me.”
Miranda: “Anything for an old friend.”
Lindsey: “Of course, I’m also a bit curious about why someone who is so in love would be fooling around.”
Miranda: [hiding her surprise well—she knew this was too easy] “I knew this wasn’t entirely a social call. That was Darla in your office.”
Lindsey: “The one and only 200 year ex of the gentleman you slept with last night—she’s got a good memory.”
Miranda: [she was about to say that its not that impressive considering she’d been with him just a few nights before—she wonders if Lindsey knows] “Angel. ‘Slept with’ is a bit of an overstatement. It was more of a business deal.”
Lindsey: “Is that right? I thought you’d given that up for antiques.”
Miranda: “You’ve been looking in my file—a girl’s past can come in handy sometimes. Due to the nature of their operation, Angel Investigations often turns up some very interesting pieces. I had interacted with them a bit a few months ago when they were working security at a show I was involved with. I’d heard through some sources that they had something I was interesting in buying. Angel didn’t want to sell—said it was some mystical thinga-ma-gig and that it had to go to some priest or mystic or something. So I tried to negotiate. I can be very persuasive if someone has something I want. I did my best—which was very good, I must say. The bastard toyed with me a bit—just enough to make me feel a fool and then kicked me out. Self-righteous asshole.”
Lindsey: “It’s a good story. Maybe it’s even true. We’re looking into it. Coincidentally, it appears that someone tampered with my computer this morning—perhaps looked at a few files; made some copies.”
Miranda: “Isn’t that a shame. And to think, you’re only trying to make the world a better place.”
Lindsey: “Listen, Miranda. I like you—I’ve always liked you. That’s why I’m giving you some warning. If you’re working with him, we’ll figure it out sooner or later and when we do, we’ll take it all—everything you’ve worked for. If you break your connection to him, we may let it rest at that—because you’re a friend. But if not, expect a call from someone who has the power to take more than your assets.”
Miranda: “I appreciate your frankness, Lindsey, but I think you’ll find you’re blowing this way out of proportion. It was simply a negotiation. [she gets up to go] I, of all people, am not the sort to throw my towel in with the good guys unless there is something in it for me.”
Lindsey: “Nothing is worth the price you’d have to pay to take his side. I trust that you, of all people, know that.”
Miranda: “Good night, Lindsey. Thanks for the drink.”
**
Back at the hotel later that night.
Angel: “So he knows.”
Miranda: “I think he’ll do his best to give me a few days. I expect they’ll freeze my assets by morning as a sort of warning, but beyond that—I suspect we have a bit of time before...”
Angel: “You think they’ll find someone?”
Miranda: “I’m not very high up on the Immortal ladder—won’t be hard for them to find someone suitably safe. My biggest source of hope is that most Immortals don’t like to be told what to do or who to fight—the pot would have to be pretty sweet. ‘Course, resources not exactly a limiting factor for our friends as W&H.”
Angel: “You should leave. Go back to Sunnydale. Wes can go through the files you got from Lindsey’s computer—he’ll figure out what’s going on with Darla. It’s too dangerous for you to stay.”
Miranda: [here we go—Angel the martyr again. Tempting as it was to leave and pretend none of this had ever happened, I knew he wasn’t near ready and so I had to talk him around again.] “Do you always give up so easily? I’d expect a bit more stamina from a professional hero. [That was a bit harsh, so I quickly followed with...] “Or is it that you want me to leave. [putting on my best ‘insecure/needy’ face] Things are going too fast and you’re not sure about us. I could...” [he interrupts]
Angel: [with that desperate/panic look] “No. No, that’s not it at all. Us...uh, things are fine...er good...great. I just...you have so much more to lose than I ever did. I can’t ask you to...”
Miranda: “You didn’t ask, remember? It was my choice.”
Angel: [he nods] “What can we do? Is there any way to get the word out to other Immortals about W&H?”
Miranda: “No. I mean I can contact the few I know, but...unless...”
Angel: “You have an idea?”
Miranda: “Let’s go for a walk.”
**
Present day, Miranda telling the story.
Miranda: “That night, we tracked down my watcher. It wasn’t easy—they’re a slippery bunch, but with Angel’s tracking abilities, we were able to turn the tables and watch him for a bit. He quickly got spooked and headed back to wherever it is they live when they’re not out following Immortals. In this case, he’d set up shop in an abandoned building not far from the Hyperion. It was all rather creepy—I’d seen him out of the corner of my eye for more than a decade (that’s when he must have taken over from the last one), but I’d never spoken to him or to my knowledge been close enough to get a good look at him. I’d never tried to contact any of them before. It seemed wrong. Like we were programmed to ignore their presence. Needless to say, he was very upset when we showed up at his mini-lair-for-one. He had a frightening number of pictures of me lying around and all sorts of computer equipment. I tried not to think too hard about it. He wouldn’t talk to me directly—he seemed to have trouble looking me in the eye. So I let Angel do the negotiating. As I had imagined, they take some oath to not interfere with the lives of their Immortals, or any others for that matter. He would be fired—killed more likely if he helped me in any way. After much abuse, we finally got him to agree to listen for any signs that W&H had tried to contact anyone—as this ‘setting up’ of fights was also considered against the rules and so fell under another sort of category that meant it might be OK for him to look into it. This was all he would promise. Before we left, I asked him his name. I could tell from his demeanor that he wasn’t supposed to tell me, but he did. Alex. He looked at me for just a moment when he said it. I decided I liked him, despite his lack of cooperation. [Author's note: I picture the computer nerdy guy from La Femme Nikita (the tv show) as Alex.] By the time we got back to the hotel, I was exhausted. I called and left a message for Duncan, knowing that he had more contacts than me in the Immortal world. We went to bed and straight to sleep. Well, he went straight to sleep. I waited until I was sure he was out and grabbed my phone and snuck up the stairs and outside.”
Spike: “That’s when you called about the shop.” [M nods]
****
[Author’s note: Keep in mind that sometimes the flashbacks are just memories of either Miranda’s or Spike’s and so she isn’t actually relating the story to Spike in that much detail. Sometimes she skips over certain things, particularly most of the scenes between she and Angel. I guess what I’m saying is that just because I’ve included a written out scene here, doesn’t mean Miranda is telling the story in the same amount of detail to Spike. Along those same lines, there are things that I’ve decided not to write out at all—mostly conversations (among other things) between Angel and Miranda. I just don’t want to take the time, even though they’d probably make their whole relationship more believable. Oh well.]
Begin Flashback.
Miranda is sitting somewhere outside the hotel, leaning back against the building. She dials.
Spike: [voice on the phone] “Miranda?”
Miranda: “How’d you know it was me?”
Spike: “Just hoping, I guess.” [he sounds a bit drunk]
Miranda: “You pissed?” [as in British for ‘drunk’]
Spike: “A bit. Well, more than a bit.”
Miranda: “If I ask you to do something, are you too drunk to remember? It’s important.”
Spike: “No worries—got a hefty tolerance, me—be able to stand in no time. What’s going on?”
Miranda: “There’s been some trouble with my lawyers down here. They’re likely to seal off the shop in the next day or two. I need you to get into the back room and move what you can to a safe place. Maybe your old crypt or something.”
Spike: “Sounds serious.”
Miranda: “It may be.”
Spike: “Yeah, alright. Should I go now?”
Miranda: [desperate to not end the conversation now, even though waiting could be risky] “Nah—there’s still a couple of hours before sunrise, right?”
Spike: [pause] “You cross with me? That why you haven’t called? [not waiting for her to answer] ‘Cause, uh, sorry I was such a wanker last time. It’s just—I get so angry when you’re not here—‘cause you’re not here. There’s nothing to do. I could patrol with Buffy, I guess, but I’m still not feeling great and I hate to get knocked on my ass in front of those idiots. [beat] I miss you.”
Miranda: [tearing up, but trying to hide it in her voice] “I’m not—I was never cross with you, William. Things have just hit the fan in the past few days, so there hasn’t been any time. Maybe you should go patrolling—it’s not like you could be any more pathetic than Xander.”
Spike: “True. [cheered a bit] I got you a present. I wasn’t gonna tell you, but I thought you’d be back by now.”
Miranda: “Yeah? What is it, then?”
Spike: “I’m not going to tell you what it is, just that it’s here waiting for you.”
Flash to Spike, laying down on a couch, half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, with the kitten curled up in a ball sleeping on his stomach—he gently strokes it as he speaks.
Miranda: “I can’t wait.”
Spike: “You sound sad. Don’t let Captain Dismal suck the life out of you—why do all bloody hero types have to be miserable and mope all the time? No wonder people prefer villains in the movies.”
Miranda: “That’s just us, love. Most people still root for the good guys.”
Spike: “Bollocks.”
Miranda: [trying to lighten her tone] “Which reminds me, I am not going with you to see the next Star Wars movie if you insist on cheering loudly every time a Jedi gets offed.”
Spike: “I can probably restrain myself, knowing that it all has to go horribly wrong in the end. If only it could have ended with the middle one—that would have been cool. The bad guys never win. It’s so bloody boring.”
Miranda: “I’m going to have a light sabre one day. I’d be the coolest Immortal around. Light, lethal, pretty colors—that’s the weapon for me.”
Spike: “You are such a nerd. Besides, they don’t let girls have light sabers—haven’t you watched the movies?”
Miranda: “Someone is seriously losing a limb if there aren’t any girl Jedis in this next one—mark my words.”
Spike: “That’s more like it”
Miranda: “What?”
Spike: “You just about lost the ‘mope’ in your voice. You’d better get home quick before it gets terminal.”
Miranda: “I want to. Just a few more days.”
Spike: “You’re gonna need to keep the shop closed for at least 2 days after you get back—I’ve got plans.”
Miranda: “I’d love to hear about them, but I’m not exactly in a private space at the moment. Next time. You should go—move the stuff.”
Spike: “Yeah. One more thing. Listen, I know I haven’t...I mean, I’m not much for saying stuff on the phone...seems stupid for some reason. It’s not that I don’t...I’d just rather...fuck it. I love you. Come home before I lose my mind.”
Miranda: [barely holding it together] “I love you, too. I’ll be home when I can.”
She hangs up and then hugs her knees into her chest and sits like that for a moment. After a while, she sits back and lights a cigarette and takes a couple of puffs before putting it out and getting up to go back to bed. She walks quietly into the room and sits on the bed for a moment.
Angel: “You don’t have to go outside to smoke, you know.”
Miranda: “I thought it would bother you.”
Angel: “Secondhand smoke not exactly a problem for the undead [lame ha]. Honestly, I don’t mind.”
Miranda: [pause] “I don’t think they’ll be able to take the house—I’d forgotten that I paid cash and didn’t involve them much. [seeing the frown descend on his face, she quickly adds] I can sell it, or maybe give it over to Willow and Tara for safe keeping.”
Angel: “I know it’s not easy.”
Miranda: “You’d think for people like us that the longer we lived, the clearer things would become—that we’d figure it all out and everything would be simple.”
Angel: “But it just keeps getting more complicated.”
Miranda: [she’s losing control just a bit] “I think I’d just like to get some sleep now, alright?”
Angel: [he can tell she’s upset] “Not talking is almost always my favored option.”
She smiles a bit at this, then leans in to kiss him softly on the lips. She gets under the covers and drapes herself over his chest as he puts his arms around her—they quickly go to sleep. A few hours pass—it’s daylight. She opens her eyes—the two of them are still in the same position. Initially, she smiles sleepily, but then lifts her head and quickly remembers where she is and the smile disappears. She gently extricates herself from Angel’s arms and slips out of bed. She gets dressed and writes out a quick note, which she leaves on her pillow. It simply reads “There’s something I have to do. Be back soon. M".
****
Scene 8
Early morning, St. Michael’s church (the one Miranda visited last time where her husband and daughter are buried). Miranda, looking tired and morose pulls open the big front doors. We see the inside of the church—it’s medium sized and decorated in the old style with wooden pews and sculptures. There are a couple of beautiful wooden sculptures of angels on either side of the pulpit. We see Miranda’s eyes move around the room, taking in the memories that come from the sights, sounds and smells of the place. A soft voice speaks to her—she turns to see a young-ish looking priest watching her.
Priest: “I’m afraid mass doesn’t start for another couple of hours. If that’s what you’ve come for.”
Miranda: “Actually, I was hoping to see Father Dunn—is he still alive?”
Priest: [a bit surprised] “Yes, though he’s mostly retired now. He keeps insisting that his work isn’t quite finished yet, so he stays around and does what he can. I can only hope I have such commitment when I’m his age.”
Miranda: “So he’s here, then? In his chambers?”
Priest: [he nods] “He may not be awake yet. Shall I go and see?”
Miranda: “Yes, thank you. [as he begins to walk off] Even if he isn’t up, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss a visit from an old friend.”
The priest just looks puzzled for a moment—this woman is younger than he is—hardly could be considered an ‘old friend’. Still, he does as she asks. After a few minutes, he reappears.
Priest: “He’ll see you now.”
He starts to tell her where to go, but she marches off without listening—she knows the way. She pushes the door, which had been open a crack and steps into a small room, closing the door behind her. It is sparsely decorated and only has a small bed, a desk and a few bookshelves and one comfortable looking chair. Father Dunn is sitting in the chair—He looks as if he’s just got out of bed. He looks up when he hears her enter, but it is obvious from his expression that he must be mostly blind, as he doesn’t focus on her. Miranda looks mildly shocked at the sight of him—he’s aged so much.
Father Dunn: “It is you, Miranda, isn’t it? I’m afraid the years have taken my sight.”
Miranda: “Yes. [beat] Everything looks just the same. Except for you, of course.”
Father Dunn: “And I suspect you don’t look a day older than when I last saw you—the funeral, was it?”
Miranda: “I wasn’t at the funeral, remember. Has your memory gone as well?”
Father Dunn: “Could’ve sworn I saw you there, in the shadows, perhaps?”
Miranda: “Your memory is playing tricks on you. Best not to listen.”
Father Dunn: “I knew you’d come. I’ve been waiting.”
Miranda: [rolls her eyes] “Yeah, well, I should beat you senseless—or worse. I can’t believe you’d been tracking me with the bloody necklace—one of your Vatican buddies paid me a visit not too long ago.”
Father Dunn: “And you helped him?”
Miranda: “That’s not the point. It was a violation.”
Father Dunn: “ah. But you’re not here to chastise me.”
Miranda: [sigh] “No, what’s done is done. You provided Cal immeasurable comfort towards the end—the kind I couldn’t provide.”
Father Dunn: “Wouldn’t provide.”
Miranda: “I can’t very well preach something I don’t believe—not even for comfort’s sake; perhaps especially not.”
Father Dunn: “And yet you’re here now. Why?”
Miranda: “Maybe I’ve seen some things...things that make me wonder if there could be some truth in it.”
Father Dunn: “What things?”
Miranda: “More tangible evil. I don’t know, maybe I’m ready to believe that there are sides to be taken. [anticipating his thoughts] Nothing more.”
Father Dunn: “With tangible evil comes tangible good.”
Miranda: “Maybe. I don’t know what I believe anymore. [her voice is cracking a bit] I mean, everyone wants to think that they’re a part of something—that they are here for a purpose. I’ve met some recently who know. But what about the rest of us? Maybe we just see what we want to see—hear what we want to hear. We seek out some destiny that makes us feel important when really we should just mind our own business and get back to our own lives and not try to be what we’re clearly not.”
Father Dunn: “Sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of something.”
Miranda: [upset, she walks over to the chair and sits on the floor next to it. She takes his wrinkled old hand in hers and looks up into his blind eyes, pleading] “How do you know when it’s time? How do you know if it’s real?”
Father Dunn: “Tell me.”
Miranda: “I’ve gotten myself into something—something I don’t think I can go through with. [tears are flowing now] I was happy—I had a life. Things seemed honest for once. But then there was this man—someone who’d been a friend to me. He asked for my help. He’s a good man, or trying to be, who was falling apart. Like so many others, he saw something in me that wasn’t quite there. I knew that by being that person, I could help him. He just needs a little push is all—something to give him that little bit of strength he can’t quite muster. Sounds simple, but it’s not. In truth, it requires me to give up everything.”
Father Dunn: “If you’re asking whether you should sacrifice your own happiness for that of this man, I can only respond by saying that you are equally deserving of happiness.”
Miranda: “It’s more than that. He has evil inside him—very strong and very powerful. His recent troubles have brought it to the surface and unleashed, this evil could do enormous damage to the world. There are forces at work to banish the good in him and unleash the evil to fuel something bigger than any of us. He is strong, but they might be stronger and I can help him. But the only way I know how—the only path that’s clear and familiar is to be...with him.”
Father Dunn: [Taking this all in, he sits in silence for a time.] “I see. He will come to love you, no doubt. Could you love him?”
Miranda: “I love another. The pain of his loss swamps everything.”
Father Dunn: “Try and put that out of your mind for the moment. Could you love him?”
Miranda: “I have a certain affection for him, but love? [she shakes her head] Unlikely—it would take something big, something unexpected.”
Father Dunn closes his eyes tightly, as if meditating. Miranda sits quietly for a while.
Miranda: “It can’t be right, can it? It’s dishonest. This can’t be what I’m supposed to do. It’s ridiculous—what was I thinking? Let him solve his own bloody problems” [she starts to get up, but FD’s hand grabs her arm, showing more strength than she’d expect from a feeble old man; she turns to him with pain in her eyes, pleading] “It hurts too much. I can’t.”
Father Dunn: “Let me show you something.” [He puts his hands on either side of her head. She experiences a “vision”: She’s outside, laying on her side in the grass. It’s a beautiful summer day and she can feel the warmth of the sun. There’s a stream a few yards away—she can hear the water flowing. She has an overwhelming feeling of contentment and happiness. She feels something and looks down and sees her large, pregnant belly. She hears a voice behind her: “let’s show mommy the fossil you found”; she turns to see a little girl, maybe 3 years old, proudly holding a small rock—she covers her eyes from the sun and looks upward to see the man who spoke. It’s Angel. The priest removes his hands and it’s over. Miranda looks overwhelmed and confused and stumbles to her feet.] “Only you can know for certain if it’s time.”
Still with a look of bewilderment on her face, Miranda hastily leaves—this whole experience has freaked her out and she just wants to have a cigarette to calm her nerves. After she’s gone, a pained look descends on the priest’s face. Soon there are tears in his eyes. Looking upwards, he speaks.
Father Dunn: “It isn’t true. I can feel it. [getting angrier/more upset] What you had me show her—it’s a lie. [shaking his head] Oh, Miranda. I’m so sorry.”
[Author’s note: obviously Miranda doesn’t know this last bit, as it took place when she wasn’t present.]
Scene 9
Present
Miranda: (continuing the story) “The next night there was another ‘demon emergency’ of some sort. I went with them and played the part. There was lots of fighting, so it kept my mind off things. When we returned, a fax was waiting—A picture of me from that night, fighting with Angel. So that was that. I suggested that everyone take the next day and night off—we could use a break. All there was left to do was wait—it would take them at least a day to find someone to fight me, I was sure. I wanted to have some fun, in case. It was as good a day as it could be without you—it went by quickly. Angel and I had seen a film—a late show—The Limey. We were walking back to the hotel, when a kid bumped me as he walked by. Angel turned to yell after him, and I saw that he’d dropped small piece of paper on the ground. I reached down and picked it up—it said “9pm tomorrow”. I quickly stuffed it in my pocket. I was sure it was from Alex and it meant that W&H had found someone and that the fight would be then. I didn’t tell Angel. I wanted a quiet end to the day. It was quiet. I slept for a bit, but then snuck out to call you.”
Spike: “You were so strange on the phone that night. I thought maybe you were high or something—spouting off about this and that. I can’t fucking believe you didn’t tell me.”
Miranda: “I wanted to, but I figured that if I lost and I was dead, you’d never have to know anything. It would’ve been alright for you.”
Spike: [pained expression] “It wouldn’t have been alright.”
Miranda: “In the afternoon, I prepared. I felt OK. Almost confident. You never know about these things—sure, they’d find someone they thought could beat me, but I could get lucky. Angel was more on edge than I was. But I’ll tell you something—I don’t think Darla or anything particularly existential entered his head for a minute during that time, so things were good. By 8:30, we still hadn’t heard a word about it—maybe I’d been wrong about the note. Maybe Alex was wrong. But then Cordy got hit with one of her visions.”
**
Commence flashback
Cordy falls back, clutching her head. Gunn is there to catch her.
Angel: “Not exactly great timing.”
Cordelia: “No, it’s the place—where he’s waiting.”
Angel: “Where is it?”
Cordelia: “Parking lot—corner of Park and West. There’s a symbol.”
Miranda: “Can you draw it?”
Cordy nods. They find a pad of paper and a pencil. While Cordy is sketching with Wesley’s help, Miranda, Gunn and Angel talk.
Gunn: “They don’t know you know, right? Playing it a bit close, I’d say. It’s 8:30.”
Angel: “I’d expect them [W&H thugs] to show up any minute. We should go.”
Gunn: “You could make your way to consecrated ground—if you didn’t want to fight, right?”
Miranda: “They’d drag me out—best to get there before they force me. Who knows what they might do to tip the scales.”
Gunn: “Think they’d pull a Gladiator on you?”
Miranda: “Seems in character.”
Angel, frowning with concern, takes hold of Miranda’s arm and pulls her close to him—they touch foreheads and she squeezes his shoulders.
Cordelia: [looking at Wesley’s drawing, excited] “That’s it.”
Wesley: “What’s the significance of the symbol?”
Miranda: “Every Immortal that’s been around has one—we put it on our weapons, possessions, among other things. [She shows them her symbol engraved at the base of her sword] Guess it’s about time to find out who I’m fighting.”
Gunn: “If this were a movie, now’s about the time when our hero says something badass about going into battle.”
Miranda: [(in response to Gunn’s comment) As she walks over to the pad of paper, she scrunches up her nose in a petty sort of way] “I think it’s a bit humid, actually, to die today. Don’t like the thought of being a sweaty corpse, I’ll tell you that. Think maybe I’ll stick around till the air dries a bit.”
Gunn: [laughs] “Now there’s a different take on a tired line...”
Miranda looks at the symbol and her expression falls. She inadvertently lets out a quiet, high-pitched gasp. The blood drains from her face.
Angel: “That bad?”
Miranda: [angry/upset] “There must be a mistake—you must’ve remembered it wrong. It can’t be.”
Gunn: “Who is it?”
Miranda: [thinking out loud] “Or...they must have something on him. Oh, God, this can’t happen. I won’t let it.” [She starts to head for the door. Angel rushes forward and grabs her arm to stop her. She turns back] “It’s Joseph.”
The surprise of this makes Angel loosen his grip and she pulls away. She leaves through the front door, hops on a motorcycle and is off alone.
Wesley: “Joseph. Isn’t he the one who was at the antiques show?”
Gunn: “And the one who helped Miranda out during that whole Drusilla revenge-fest.”
Cordelia: “Isn’t he, like, a thousand years old?”
Angel: “Older.”
Wesley: “Do you think she’s right? That W&H are blackmailing him into this?”
Angel: “Has to be. He’s a good man. No time to figure it all out now—we need to go. If he is being blackmailed, maybe there is something we can do.”
Wesley: “Cordy, do you have any record of Joseph’s last address—when you paid him a visit back when Spike was trying to track Miranda?”
Cordelia: “No, we got rid of everything—but I think I remember. I’d recognize the house if I saw it.”
Angel: “Good. You and Wes go to his house—see what you can find. Maybe what they’ve got is being kept close to home. Gunn, you’re with me. We may not be able to interfere directly, but we sure as hell can keep W&H from hedging their bets.”
They all leave.
**
Flash forward to the parking lot/alley in Cordy’s vision. There is a limousine with typical W&H type looking people (business suits) off to one side.
Miranda rides up on her motorcycle, hastily parks it and marches towards the limo, sword in hand. Suddenly there is a voice from a different direction—she turns to see Joseph, ready with his sword.
Joseph: “Miranda. It is time.”
Miranda: “Joseph, why are you doing this? I thought we were friends.”
Joseph: “Friendship is meaningless in times like these. Raise your sword.”
Miranda: “I will not. You can’t be here of your own accord.”
Joseph: “The circumstances leading us here are irrelevant now. We are Immortals and we will fight with dignity. Raise your sword or I will cut you down.”
Angel and Gunn appear—they must have parked around the corner and walked up.
Miranda: [throwing her sword down on the ground dramatically and forcefully shouts] “I will not fight you.”
Joseph shoots a worried look in the direction of the limo and the armed men standing there to observe them. He steps quickly towards Miranda and knocks her down with a sharp kick to the head. She lands near where her sword fell and as Joseph steps toward her, threatening the death blow with his sword, she grabs hers and twirls it around just in time to intercept the blow. She gets to her feet and they circle each other for a moment.
Joseph: [loudly] “I will kill you, little Angel. [He steps in and they trade blows with their swords, which moves them closer together. In a softer voice] They have my wife and adopted son. They will kill them if we do not fight.”
Hearing this, Miranda takes a deep breath and begins to fight with more fervor. Though convincing to onlookers, she senses that he is holding back. He has the power to take her quickly, but he doesn’t. The next time, they are locked close, he speaks again.
Joseph: “You will win this fight, Miranda. There are things you must do.”
Miranda: “Don’t be silly, Joseph. We’ll stall them—my friends will help.”
Joseph: “It is too late for that. Duncan and I have discussed it. It is for the best.”
Miranda: [confused] “Duncan? Discussed what, exactly?”
Joseph: “You will win and have my power—the timing isn’t perfect, but you can adjust. [pause with more fighting] There is a bag in the adjoining alley (he points with his eyes)—in it is what you’ll need to destroy the information Wolfram and Hart have on all Immortals. Go there after and take care of it. We cannot have them manipulating the Gathering. They do not understand it.”
Interlude of more convincing fighting.
Miranda: “No, Joseph. Who am I to take your life? I am nobody—nothing. My friends...”
Joseph: [not letting her finish] “I’m tired, Miranda. I’m ready. It’s your time now.”
Miranda: [she sees the weight of millennia in his old eyes—he may be ready, but she’s not] “Did I miss a memo or something? All this talk of ‘time’—I’m beginning to think I don’t have the same watch as everyone else. There’s got to be another way.”
Joseph: [resigned] “Do this. Save them if you can. Some things are more important.”
They continue to fight. Gunn and Angel are mesmerized. They are temporarily snapped out of it by a phone call. It’s Wesley—W&H are keeping Joseph’s wife and son hostage in their home. They’ve been listening in on what is happening in the house—as soon as they get the signal from the guy in the parking lot, they’re going to kill them. Wesley starts spouting off about a plan to interrupt the cell phone signal to give them time for a rescue, when the battle between Miranda and Josephs starts to heat up.
Joseph: “You’re good—more skilled than I expected. You’ll do well with this power—you will be an asset.”
Miranda: “Don’t they [W&H] know that I couldn’t win against you? Won’t they be suspicious?”
Joseph: “They do not understand everything. Position yourself to get the bag—signal your friends if you can, to protect you from them.” [indicating the W&H thugs by the limo]
Miranda looks very distressed, but continues to fight with her all. Then the moment comes with Joseph makes a cut in the wrong direction and gets thrown off balance. This is the time. She sees the vague-est hint of smile on his lips as she swings the final blow. Ah, the Quickening will interfere with the signal—he must have known that. Miranda drops to her knees by the body—touching it gently before the energy overwhelms her. The electric power rushing through her is more than she’s ever experienced. When it’s over, she sees Angel and Gunn dispatching the henchmen. Miranda runs to find the bag. She quickly scans the contents and then rushes over to A & G. They all look as if they’re about to talk at once; but then none of them speaks and there is a strange silence as they all just stand there. Miranda is the first to speak (the others are still in a bit of shock over the whole Quickening thing, having never seen it).
Miranda: “They’ve got his family somewhere...”
Angel: “At his house—Wes and Cordy are there.”
Miranda: “Angel, go help them. Bring the woman and boy back to the hotel—we’ll need to protect them if they are still alive. Gunn, you’re with me. We’re going to blow up a few things at Wolfram & Hart—you up for that?”
Gunn: “Hell yeah.”
But instead of moving, they all just stand there for a beat again—like they’re catching their breath or something, or almost have too much energy to move.
Angel: “So I guess we should...”
M & G at the same time: “Yeah”
They head off.
Miranda and Gunn go to Wolfram and Hart. There are two things they need to do: 1st get to a computer terminal. In the bag is a disc with a virus-type thing that will infiltrate the system and eradicate all the computer files having to do with Immortals. 2nd is to physically detonate the charges that have already been placed by Joseph to get rid of the hard copies and back-ups. [Ok, so this is all very unlikely, but whatever—I didn’t put much thought into it]. The two of them manage to pull it off. I picture Miranda and Gunn working well together and actually getting along rather well—unlikely as that seems on paper. Anyway, they finish the job and head back to the hotel. Gunn is all pumped having just blown up a fraction of W&H and eagerly heads inside to tell the others. Miranda opts to stay outside for a minute to have a smoke—Gunn thinks about objecting, but then realizes there’s more going on than her just needing a cigarette. He goes on in. She sits on a bench in the garden (?) and lights up—her hands are shaking, along with most of her body. Actually, it’s more like buzzing than shaking—you can still see little flicks of light dancing across her skin periodically. After a few minutes, Angel comes outside to find her. He walks over to where she’s sitting, but doesn’t say anything for a minute or two—he keeps his distance. She is the first to speak.
Miranda: “Are they...??”
Angel: “Alive—yeah. We got there in time. They’re inside.” [Miranda nods her head] “The fight was...amazing—you were amazing.”
Miranda: [Not what she wanted to hear, she lets out a slightly bitter laugh] “He let me win. It was a set up.”
Angel: [a bit surprised by this, but seeing she’s upset, he doesn’t question] “Are you OK?”
Miranda: [a bit manic] “I don’t know how to answer that. My body is buzzing, my head is swirling; One second I am overwhelmed with guilt and despair, the next I’m filled with an elation unlike anything you can imagine, and then comes the fear. [tears start to flow] This changes everything. Bastards—how could they do this to me?”
Angel: “If it’s one thing I’ve learned during my time in L.A.—Wolfram and Hart don’t take kindly to...”
Miranda: [not letting him finish] “Not them. Duncan and Joseph.”
Angel: [seriously confused] “Didn’t they just save your life?”
Miranda: “You don’t understand. They’ve sucked me into their world of Immortal politics and whatever else I’ve managed to avoid in my 140 years. Before, I wasn’t even a player—I could slip beneath the radar for the most part. Sure, I’d been hassled, but I didn’t have enough power to be bothered by the big boys. Killing Joseph has shot me straight to the top of the hit-list. It’s like going from working in the mailroom to being the bloody CEO in a single promotion. So now, not only am I a Player, but I’m an easy target. They’ll come from all over—I’ll have to...”
Angel: [It’s his turn to interrupt her—she’s just working herself into a frenzy.] “So you got something you don’t think you deserve.”
Miranda: “Deserve? It’s not about whether I deserve it or not. You’re rather obsessed with that concept, aren’t you? It’s just...”
Angel: [trying to clam her] “shhhhh. It’s not worth thinking about right now. They did what they thought was best.”
Miranda: [She nods, but the tears are still flowing.] “I didn’t want to kill him.”
Angel: “I know.”
Miranda: [looking at him, desperately] “I can’t face them. I can’t go in there.”
Angel: “Yes you can. You only did what you had to.”
Miranda: “But I killed her husband. [Clutching her stomach, as if she’s just been stabbed there] I know what that feel’s like.”
Angel: [wiping away her tears] “They asked to see you. You can do this.”
She leans forward, putting her arms around his neck and he pulls her into a tight hug for just a moment—you can still see tears in her eyes as she rests her head on his shoulder. After a moment she takes a deep breath and pulls back. She gives a nod, indicating that she’ll go and she stands up.
Miranda: “Angel. Just so you know, the next 24 hours are likely to be a bit odd. Between the conflicting and yet rather intense feelings of my body, heart and mind, I think we’re in for some serious mood swings.”
Angel: “You forget that I dated a teenage girl for two years—I’m pretty comfortable with mood swings.” [This gets a little smile from Miranda—and it’s a genuine one.]
They walk into the hotel together. Cordy is just getting Joseph’s widow a cup of tea—she’s sitting on the couch in the lobby. The boy (~15) is leaning against the front counter. As Miranda enters the room, she flinches slightly and looks a bit surprised. The son notices her first and stands up straight and watches her walk towards him. The woman also stands as she approaches.
Miranda: [almost under her breath] “He’s going to be an Immortal.” [indicating the boy, who at this, stands up taller]
Widow: “Yes—when the time comes.”
Miranda: [curious] “How...?”
Widow: “Soon after we were married, we found him—a toddler in a foster home. Joseph knew what he was immediately and so we took him in. [holding out her hand] My name is Lydia and this is my son, Roger.”
Miranda steps forward to the woman and takes her hand.
Miranda: [heartfelt] “I’m so sorry.”
Lydia: [looking at Miranda with pity] “It’s alright, dear. We knew what to expect. He said you were a good person—that you were worthy.”
Miranda: “I lost a husband once—I know that you can’t really prepare.”
Lydia: “I loved him dearly. But I was one of hundreds of wives—he’d lived so many lifetimes. He was tired of it all. Weary, I suppose is the better word. There were times when he couldn’t remember my name. I understood. Given a choice, I would have kept him with me a little longer, but sometimes things just happened when they happen. I wanted you to know that it’s Ok—we don’t blame you for his death. All we ask is that you be worthy of it.” [With that, she squeezes Miranda’s hand and lets it go.]
Miranda: [nods] “Where will you go?”
Lydia:“We’d made plans of our own—we’ll be fine. Joseph made sure we’d be safe.”
Miranda: “How old are you, Roger?”
Roger: “Fifteen and a half.”
Miranda: “Well, then, I’m sure your father would’ve wanted you to have this.”
She pulls out Joseph’s sword that she’d taken with her from the parking lot and hands it to the boy.
Roger: [taking it; in awe] “He never let me touch it. Sometimes he’d say I shouldn’t bother with it. Any of it. [excited] Will you teach me?”
Lydia: “Roger! You know we have to leave.” [deep frown from Roger]
Miranda: [to Roger] “Maybe someday.”
Lydia: “He might not choose that path—he doesn’t have to become one of you.”
Miranda: “Others might choose for him.”
They say their goodbyes and Lydia and Roger head off.
Miranda: [to Cordy, Wes and Angel] “Thanks for getting them out.”
Wesley: “That is what we do around here.”
Gunn: [a bit sheepish] “Sorry, but I gotta ask. What’s the deal with all the fireworks back there?”
Wesley: “Fireworks?”
Gunn: “After she, uh, won the fight, there was this huge electrical thingamajig swirling around—broke all the windows, shorted out the powerlines and them phoosh it hit her like a lightening bolt and then it was gone.”
Miranda: “Not gone exactly.”
As she says this, she takes a weapon/knife that was sitting on the table and makes a quick cut in her arm—instantly little flashes of light appear and within a few seconds the wound is gone.
Gunn: “So it’s inside you?”
Cordelia: “freaky”
Wesley: “Where does it come from?”
Miranda: “Embarrassingly, I don’t exactly know. It’s set loose whenever an Immortal is killed and is taken in by the Immortal closest to the body.”
Wesley: “So it’s like a life force?”
Miranda: “Something like that.”
Gunn: “What does it feel like?”
Miranda: [thinks about it for a moment and you can tell she’s still feeling it] “Like a mixture of heroine and Ecstasy—with no weird interactive side-affects.” [as she says this, she closes her eyes slightly]
Gunn: “huh”
Cordelia: “Translation for those of us who didn’t hang with the burnouts in high school?”
Wesley: “Really, really good.” [C rolls her eyes]
After a bit more ‘debriefing’, the gang disperses—Cordy, Wes and Gunn head home, leaving Angel and Miranda.
Miranda mentions offhand that he might be able to share in the feeling she has right now (implying he could bite her and feel the effects of the Quickening)—he just gives her a sideways look and changes the subject. She comments that she is bursting with energy and asks if they can go out for a drink. They end up going to Caritas. In summary, Lorne meets Miranda. He compliments her on her effect on Angel’s Aura, which has now gone from beige-y black to a blue-ish black (yes, bruise color)—she says she’s trying for purple. They have a couple of drinks (actually, Angel sips one, Miranda has more). Miranda sings. A demon buys Miranda a drink—he notices her cowboy boots and asks if she’s the one they call ‘The Marshall’—he clarifies ‘the one who took out Phil’s and Drusilla’s gang’. Turns out, he’s an enemy of Phil’s and so he buys her a drink. After a while, they leave. She’s still wired and they end up staying up all night and the next morning talking. He gets a bit of sleep, but she’s still buzzing.
Scene 10
Later That night, Miranda decides to take something to help her sleep while Angel and Gunn go off on some job. She’s down in Angel’s room and after taking probably too many of the pills, she is finally sleeping. She’s dreaming and from the look of her, it’s a sexy dream. Suddenly, Darla appears in the doorway. She saunters over to the bed—she somehow must have known that Angel was out and Miranda would be sleeping, alone. Darla scans the room and seeing Miranda’s sword resting against the wall, she grabs it and moves back towards the bed. She gently moves the covers back and one of Miranda’s arms so that she now has a clear, unobstructed path to her neck—obviously the plan is to cut off her head with the sword. But, once M’s neck is exposed, Darla tilts her head and you can see her thinking “Maybe I’ll just have a taste—seems a waste of blood otherwise”. So she kneels on the bed and moves in for the bite. As soon as her teeth sink into Miranda’s neck and she starts drinking, Miranda moans (in pleasure): “mmm, Spike”. Darla pulls back in shock/confusion for just a moment. But now, Miranda is awake enough to know what’s happening and she takes the opportunity to elbow Darla off the bed. Darla tries to jump back up, but she’s had enough of M’s blood to feel a bit drugged herself. They have a ridiculous looking fight/struggle for the sword as both of them are wobbly on their feet and so stagger around like drunks. Finally, Miranda gets the upper hand and somehow manages to tie Darla (not very well) to a chair—luckily, Darla is drugged enough to not realize that she can’t break free. Miranda climbs back into the bed and reaches for the phone. Sleepily, she stares at it for a minute.
[Writer’s note: Miranda doesn’t actually know whether she said Spike’s name out loud or if it was just part of the dream. Also, when reading this conversation between Darla and Miranda, keep in mind that they are both a bit drugged, i.e., they should sound a tad bit drunk.]
Miranda: [in a drunken/sleepy voice] “Do you know his cell number?”
Darla: [laughing a superior laugh] “I know everything about him.”
Miranda: “Could you give it me, then?”
Darla: “And why would I do that?”
Miranda: “You SO don’t know it. He never gave it to you, did he?”
Darla: “Did so.”
Miranda: “mm hm. I’d bet you didn’t even know he had a cell phone.”
Darla: “Everyone’s got a cell phone.”
Miranda: “So what’s his number then?”
Darla: “Why would I tell you?”
Miranda: “To prove that you have it—so that I will take that to mean that you were more to him than a convenient fuck. And maybe be the tiniest bit jealous.”
Darla: “I don’t have to prove anything.”
Miranda: “Ok. I’ll just look it up then. [mumbles] I knew you didn’t fucking have it.”
She stumbles to her feat and starts looking around for her handbag.
Darla: “555 6978”
Miranda: “Thank you. [she dials] I’m not jealous, by the way.” [someone picks up] “s’that Gunn? Put Angel on. Oh, right. Um, give him a message for me? Yeah, Darla’s here. Tried to kill me. I’ve tied her up and I’m going back to bed. Yep, that’s it. Right O. Cheers.” [She hangs up and leans back into the pillow—she’s very dizzy and is about to drift off to sleep. In a minute, the phone rings.] “Hello? Angel—thought it might be you. Yeah, Darla. Yup. I imagine she was going to cut off my head with my sword, but then decided to have a taste first. Yep. Sure she could have. She’s acting a bit off, so she must’ve taken a fair bit—I took a few of those little blue pills I have to help me sleep. Yep. Tied to a chair. I’m very tired. Think I’ll catch a few z’s till you get here. It’ll be fine. See you in a bit.” [she hangs up and then says to Darla] “He’ll be here to kill you shortly.”
Darla: [laughs at this] “Doubtful—he’s not so good at that.”
Miranda: “Yeah. Men are pathetic in that way, aren’t they? In the absence of immediate danger, they always hesitate at the critical moment.”
Darla: “Lucky for us.”
Miranda: “Guess we take what we can get. S’not like they don’t have all the other advantages.”
Darla: “Oh, I don’t know. We do Ok.”
Miranda: [smiling] “Yeah, we do.”
Darla: “Just out of curiosity, why tie me up—why not just finish the job yourself if you’re so keen to have me dead?”
Miranda: “First, I’m not actually so keen to see you dead. Honestly, aside from the attempted beheading, I don’t have a particular problem with you at all. We’re simply after opposite sides of the same thing.”
Darla: “May the best pro win?”
Miranda: “Something like that.”
Darla: “And second?”
Miranda: “Oh, right. I have a policy about that. I don’t kill girlfriends—ex or otherwise. [adding, matter a fact] Well, except for Dru, but...[catching herself—eyes widening] Dru...Carey.”
Darla: [skeptical] “Drew Carey. The guy from tv.”
Miranda: [defensive] “Maybe. You wouldn’t believe the things that man is capable of.”
Darla: “Or maybe, you’ve got a thing for vampires—a certain bleach blond with a wicked tongue?”
Miranda: “Speaking of blondes, has Angel always had a thing for ‘em? There’s you and Buffy and...? Has he had other girlfriends?”
Darla: [palpable distaste in her words] “Buffy. I never understood what he saw in that little-girl cheerleader.”
Miranda: “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you never had to play that game back in the day. Men like them young and virginal—especially the strapping hero types.”
Darla: [eye roll and then smirk] “You’re certainly not that. I’d bet you’ve been around the block a few times. Hm, now what kind of vampire would prefer that kind of girl?”
Miranda: [still trying to change the subject] “So tell me—did he ever, you know, call out Buffy’s name when you two were...”
Darla: “Please. He’d be a lot deader if he had.”
Miranda: “Yeah, I guess he wouldn’t. I mean, he actually loved her, so it’s not as if he’d be in quite the same frame of mind when he was with you.”
Darla: [burn, then smile] “Nice try. You know, if you weren’t distracting my boy with your make-believe hero-trip, I think we could be friends.”
Miranda: “Doubtful. I like my vampires a touch less evil.”
Darla: [smiling] “Is that right? I hear Spike has gone a bit evil-lite lately—least that was Dru’s take.”
Miranda: “Yeah, well Dru was a nutcase and he was much better off...[catching herself] Why am I still talking to you? I should be sleeping.”
Darla: “Spike was never my type, but...”
Miranda: [anything to change the subject] “What about Lindsey? You two knocking boots?”
Darla: “He wishes.”
Miranda: “That he does. And, you know, he’s kinda cute and almost evil. I think you kids would...”
Darla: “What was I saying? Oh right, Spike...”
Miranda: [losing her guard a bit] “I believe we were still discussing Lindsey. You know, I hear he’s got a big...”
Darla: “Got a bit of a thing for my boy William, do you? Isn’t that sweet.”
Miranda: “Why don’t we get back to Angel—what’s your secret?”
Darla: “Professional to professional, it’s all in the nose. Pheromones, baby. Gets a whiff and he’s like putty in my hands. Well, not putty for long. But getting back to Spike...”
Miranda: “I really should get some sleep now. Angel will be here in a minute—he’ll dust you once and for all and I can...”
Darla: “Skip town?”
Miranda: [a bit too defensive] “No. NO! I’m staying right here.”
Darla: “I’ll tell you something. I tend to like my men big, quiet and not very bright, so Spike and I never really hit it off. But...there were times when I found myself admiring his lips. Very kissable—bitable, don’t you think? I can almost taste them now.”
In her drugged state, Miranda can’t hide her reaction to this image and lets out a slight whimper as she abruptly sits on the bed.
Miranda: “I’m going to sleep now. No, wait. I’m moving you outside, locking the door and THEN I’m going to sleep.”
She does all this. Of course, by the time Angel and Gunn return to the hotel, Darla has escaped. Miranda is fast asleep.
- 17
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Violently Happy