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From Dusk 'til Dawn I, Part 1 (Air date Dec. 1, 2004)

Posted by masqthephlsphr on 2004.11.21 at 12:16
Current Mood: scaredscared
From Dusk 'til Dawn
(Pt. I: Dusk to Midnight)

Part 1

(November 19, 2004)

Written by: Masquerade



It's still light outside, but the sun has set. We're looking at Connor's apartment, our POV just over the shoulder of an INDISTINCT FIGURE standing at street distance from the building. The figure steps forward onto the lawn. They are wearing a DARK BROWN HOODED ROBE. They face the building as if studying it, or waiting for something.


Connor is standing by the armchair, his book bag on the footstool, the phone to his ear. With one hand, he stuffs his notebook inside his bag and then his history text.

The last day of class is the tenth.
My last final's...the following Thursday.

He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and zips up his bag.

I have to re-sign the lease by the end of December.

He slings the book bag over his shoulder, then strolls to the refrigerator and opens it. His POV - a large pizza box sitting across the top shelf. He opens it, grabs a slice of pepperoni pizza, and takes a bite.

(mouth full)
You b'amazed.
People take off for weeks sometimes.
At least I don't have pets.

With a tap of his foot, he shuts the refrigerator door, then glances up at the kitchen clock. 4:44 p.m.

I've got to go. I need to run by the library
before class.
(he smiles)
Love you, too, Mom.

He crosses over to the living room end table, hangs up the phone, then turns to the front door, taking another bite of his pizza.


WIDE SHOT - The front door opens. Connor steps out onto the porch.

Connor's POV - the LAWN of the apartment complex. The brown-robed hooded figure is no longer there.

CONTINUED WIDE SHOT - Connor pulls the front door shut. NOW we see the hooded figure, CREEPING around the building to Connor's left. Connor steps forward, then pauses. A puzzled expression comes to his face. He glances around, then cautiously starts down the front walk. The hooded figure pulls something small and black out of its robe and skulks towards him.

CLOSE-UP on the figure's hand. We see a BRIEF CRACKLE OF ELECTRICITY.

The figure LEAPS AT CONNOR, who turns at just the last second. bzzzapt! The figure JABS Connor in the GUT. Connor grunts and stumbles back, then twists away. The figure comes at him again. bzzzapt. Connor grimaces in pain.



Connor's arms flail. He stumbles across the lawn, his book bag sliding off his arm. The bag falls. Connor trips over it and tumbles onto the grass with a grunt. Quickly, he rolls over, scrambles to sitting, and peers up disorientedly to see - Connor's POV - the HOODED FIGURE, looming over him. It's dark enough now that we can't see their face, shrouded by the hood. The TASER comes directly at the camera. Connor throws out an arm defensively. He knocks the taser-wielding hand aside for a second, but then it comes right back at him, stabbing him in the temple.


Connor convulses, his face distorted with pain. He slumps to the ground, passed out. HOLD on him for a beat. Slowly, the hooded figure leans over into the frame, scoops Connor up, stands, and hefts him over their shoulder like the proverbial sack of potatoes. The movement pushes aside the hood. The figure turns, one hand holding Connor in place. We see the determined and disgruntled expression of TREY THE VAMPIRE. With his free hand, he pulls the hood back up over his head. Then he starts across the lawn, a limp and jostling Connor slung over his shoulder.



Opening Credits

The theme song plays as we see images of

CONNOR REILLY walking to classes, killing a vampire


Vincent Kartheiser


Eliza Dushku

and REPORTER AIDEN WALSH, pulling his CAMERA away from his face.


Sean Maher

Act One

with special guest stars

Megalyn Echikunwoke
Randall Slavin
Jon Abrahams
Juliet Landau
Sabine Singh



Faith is sitting on the table, looking down at a PRETTY AFRICAN-AMERICAN WOMAN, VAUGHNE, who is seated with her eyes closed, fingers on a PADDED YELLOW ENVELOPE lying in front of her. In the background, we can hear the echoing laughter and voices of the SLAYERS IN THE TRAINING ROOM.

Aren't you supposed to--

Shhh. I'm trying to focus.

Faith sits back, then throws an annoyed glance at the library door. She gets up off the table, shuts the door, and returns to her seat on the table. Vaughne looks up at her.

I've only been doing this a couple of years,
and I don't have half of Willow's power.

She smiles apologetically, then closes her eyes again, her brow knitting in concentration. Finally, her shoulders slump and she opens her eyes.

I think any residual energy left behind by
the amulet is gone.

So what do we do?

Well, the locator spell's pretty simple.
We just need something the amulet touched.
(she picks up the envelope)
Where was it before it was in this envelope?

Some museum. They sent it over because Willow
wanted to see it while she was here.
(she frowns)
I still haven't gotten up the nerve to tell
the museum it was stolen.

Vaughne flips over the envelope.

Oh, wait, it's right here.
"The L.A. Museum of Cultural History."
(she looks up at Faith)
How long was it there?

I donno.
Does that make a difference?

It could. If the amulet was on display--
or in storage--in the same place for a long time,
there might still be residual vibes in
that area for the spell to use.

Finally, there's something for Faith to do. She leaps to her feet.

Great, let's go.

Vaughne glances at her watch and gives her a skeptical smile.

It's after six.
Would the museum still be open?

Faith sighs and plops back down on the table.

Beats me.
(she glances at the library door)
Besides, I can't leave until munchkin meeting
is over.

Vaughne grins. Faith crosses her arms, restless.

What about tomorrow? What's your schedule like?

I've got some time in the afternoon.

Faith stands up.

Make it early afternoon, and I'm good.
We'll check it out then.

She walks over to the door and reaches for the knob, beckoning Vaughne to follow.

(opening the door)
In the meantime, I can give you the letter
that came with the amulet.
We're still trying to figure out what the
damned thing is for. Everything the museum
knows is in that letter.

Vaughne rises from the table and follows Faith out into the hall.


We can hear the sounds from the training room again - Rona shouting out drills. Faith and Vaughne walk to Faith's office.

(exhaling heavily)
I'll look at it. If the amulet is supposed
to be used in a spell, I might be able to
dig up some information on it.

Faith glances at her.


Vaughne shakes her head.

(she smiles awkwardly)
It's just, I skipped out on graduate school
so I wouldn't have to spend any more time
with my nose in a book.

Faith grins. But as she and Vaughne enter Faith's office, we CUT TO a REVERSE ANGLE, and see a frown of dismay on Faith's face.


Faith walks over to her desk and sits down on it.

How are you with demons?

Vaughne stops in the center of the room, arms crossed.

Well, I went to college in Sunnydale.
But I tried to avoid the subject,
if you know what I mean.

She sees Faith's look of frustration.

(another awkward smile)
I guess you were hoping for a little more
from me, huh? Willow asked if I could help
you guys out with some spells, and I will.
But I'm not really much of a...what's the
word for it, anyway?


Vaughne chuckles.

I'll look at whatever you have. No guarantees,
though. You said it had to do with demons?

Faith twists around and grabs a piece of paper off her desk.

Willow did this other spell for me.

She hands it to Vaughne.

She sent me an email with the results, but....
(she sighs)
Hell if I can figure it out.


Connor and friends' favorite quaint pseudo-English tavern. We see students entering and leaving.


A live band is on stage, playing an awkward four-piece arrangement of the Muddy Waters' standard, "I Got My Mojo Workin'." DAVE and his girlfriend AMY are seated at one of the round wooden tables, sharing a pitcher of beer. Dave glances at his watch and frowns.

Seven forty-five.

He looks up to see AIDEN approaching their table.

Hey. Hi.

Aiden offers his hand to Dave, who is peering at him uncertainly.

Aiden Walsh. I was at Connor's birthday
party a couple weeks ago.

(smiling in recognition)
Yeah, sure!

Dave reaches out and shakes Aiden's hand. Amy smiles as well and waves with the hand that's not holding her beer. Aiden takes a quick glance around the pub.

Connor invited me to join you guys. He says
you hang out here after class a lot?

Dave grins and gestures at an empty chair. Aiden pulls it out.

Only moderately incessantly.

Aiden chuckles. He sits down.

So is Connor here?

Dave's expression grows uneasy. He glances at Amy.

Actually, no.
And he wasn't in class tonight, either.

He gestures at his cell phone, which is sitting on the table.

I tried calling him, but he's not home,
I guess.

(gazing at Dave)
Which doesn't mean anything.

Dave throws a hand at the stage.

Except that he said he'd be here to hear
George's band.

Dave and Amy exchange another glance of discomfort. Then Amy sips at her beer. Dave picks up his cell phone and pecks out a number. The three of them sit in silence while Dave waits for an answer. Finally, he clicks the phone off.

Still no answer.
(he stares at his phone)
Guy really should join the golden age of wireless.

They sit in silence again for a moment. Aiden looks between them, his expression awkward. Finally, he sets his hands on the table and pushes his chair back.

You know what? I think I'm going to swing by
his place and see if he's there.
He might just be sick or something.

Or maybe he's on his way.

Maybe. But someone might as well check on him.

Yeah. That's probably a good idea.

Aiden stands up. He makes an attempt at a reassuring smile.

I'll let you know what I find out, okay?

Let me give you my cell number.

He holds out a hand to his girlfriend. Amy chuckles and pulls a pen out of her purse. Dave takes it, then grabs a napkin off the table and jots down his number. He hands it to Aiden.

Make sure you do give me a call, okay?

Aiden nods. He gives them both a wave.

Nice seeing you again.

He turns and leaves the bar. Dave and Amy exchange a worried look.


Warehouses. Distantly-spaced streetlamps. A lone car passes down the street. We see the establishing shot for a beat, then -



And silence.

Everything remains like that for several excruciatingly long seconds before -

We hear a low grunt. Followed by a wet, rhythmic slurping. Then a soft, plaintive moan. The noises continue, low, faint, intermittent, as the screen gradually LIGHTENS to reveal a fuzzy field of brown and gray. Then, slowly, that resolves itself into a WALL. A wall of horizontal wood planks. Flickering shadows dance across it. In the background, the rhythmic lapping continues.

Slowly, we PULL BACK from the wall and CIRCLE AROUND in a TIGHT SHOT until we see CONNOR, eyes at half-mast, sitting in a simple black plastic and metal chair. His wrists are bound together with chains. His ankles are apart, but also shackled to each other. And his chest has been tied to the back of the chair by a thick coiled rope. His head is lolling to the side. Connor blinks groggily. Slowly, his raises his head upright. He looks down. His POV - His ENCHAINED wrists and his hands, curled in his lap.

He raises his arms, then strains against the rope holding him to the chair. It's secure. Suddenly, we hear a faint, distinctively feminine moan. Connor twists, trying to look behind himself. The rope holds him firm, but the feet of his chair scrape against the concrete floor. Connor shifts the chair around again. And again.

PAN AROUND THE ROOM in a jerking 240-degree CIRCLE until we see -

A WINDOWLESS, CRAMPED WAREHOUSE ROOM lit only by a single desk lamp and quivering candle light. Despite the gloom, we can make out shadowed objects--a table, a few crates, an easel, some half-finished canvases and sculptures, and a row of plastic cabinets and metal shelves. Suddenly, something hits the floor with a dull THUD. CUT TO the concrete just two meters from Connor's feet. A woman's limp body lies there. Her neck is red with BLOOD.

PULL UP TO a COUCH stretched against the wall now opposite Connor. A man sits staring down at the woman. His face has the wrinkled visage of a vampire. Off-camera, we hear the METAL CREAK of Connor's chair. The man's head snaps in Connor's direction. It's THE VAMPIRE TREY.

Connor's eyes widen. He struggles against his bonds again, grimacing with determination as he puts his strength into it.

Trey stands.

It's about time you woke up.
(he chuckles with disdain)
Electricity and chloroform.
That's all it took to bring you down.

He takes a step towards Connor, his face returning to human form. His expression is angry, menacing. Suddenly, he veers over to the scratched-up wooden table, grabs a cylindrical-handled X-Acto knife, and marches it over to Connor's chair. TIGHT SHOT of the sharp metal BLADE TIP as it inches up Connor's neck.

(dripping venom)
You don't know how much I want to slit
your throat.

Connor's eyes dip. He purses his lips and digs his feet into the concrete. His chair screeches back.

Trey's eyes bore into him. He steps forward.

You killed Diego.
And because of you, the Slayers slaughtered
my family.

He brings the blade up close to Connor again.

I think you owe me blood.

Connor gazes at Trey, his expression fearful and defiant. Then - Clack, clack, clack.

Don't touch him.

Connor's eyes dart towards the voice reflexively. Trey pulls the knife back and turns around. He lowers his weapon.

Their POV - Out of a shadowed doorway across the room steps the vampire DRUSILLA, her inky black hair falling over her shoulders, a sleeveless black satin-and-lace dress clinging to her thin frame. Clutched against her breast is porcelain doll in a Victorian gown. Slowly, she brings up her other arm, hand bent low at the wrist. Then she curls her arm around until her palm is facing up.

Baby's up from his lit'le nap.



Act Two




The family room of a comfortable home. The furniture, rugs, and paintings are modest, but fashionable. Lamplight flickers on the walls. A warm fire is crackling in the fireplace. But this house is not a peaceful refuge tonight.

(voice quivering with fright)
You have to listen to me. I've seen it.
You can't--you can't go. What happens....

DRUSILLA is crouched on the floor, wild-eyed, grappling at the pant legs of her FATHER, who is still in his work suit and seated at a table, his newspaper in his lap. A dark-haired middle-aged woman sits nearby on the divan, the needlework in her hands forgotten. Drusilla's father frowns down at her, trying to look sternly indifferent. But there is fear in his eyes.


ANGLE ON Drusilla. She quickly crawls towards her mother, wide-eyed.

Mummy, he watches us. He--he sees.

Drusilla's mother glances at her husband, then stares down at her needlepoint. She stabs the fabric with a shaky needle.


Drusilla sinks to sitting on the rug. With trembling fingers, she picks at the yellow gingham-patterned fabric of her skirt. PULL BACK TO a TWO-SHOT of Drusilla and her father (mother's POV).

That talk is evil, do you hear me? Filthy evil!
I'll not have you bringing Satan into this house!

(quietly, staring down)
It's not the house 'e enters.

Her father gazes at her, his fingers stiffening around his newspaper. He lifts the paper and snaps it back open. Drusilla looks up. Her POV - the wall of newsprint that is her father. Drusilla's face contorts with pain.

CUT TO her mother, watching sympathetically from the divan. She puts her needlework aside and leans down with an out-stretched hand.


Drusilla's eyes are on her father.

Dru, let's go upstairs.

Her mother stands, tugging at her hand. Drusilla rises shakily to her feet. CLOSE-UP on Drusilla's father, behind his paper. His eyes graze the headlines unseeing. His lips are pursed so tight they tremble. THREE-SHOT - Drusilla's mother's hands grip her daughter's shoulders, trying to turn the bewildered girl around. Drusilla reaches out to her father.


Dru, come.

Drusilla's face crumples. Her mother nudges her forward out of the room. As she does, Drusilla's father lowers his paper. His expression is pained bewilderment.


Drusilla and her mother slowly mount the stairs. HOLD on the foot of the staircase as they ascend. Drusilla's seventeen-year-old sister ELIZABETH walks over beside it, staring up after them.

Then, on the stairs -

(to Drusilla)
Your father's right.
You know you mustn't talk that way.

But I don't want to see those things.

Drusilla SWAYS on the step. Her hand flies to her forehead. Her mother grips her back and holds her up. Drusilla's face contorts with pain. Her eyes squeeze tight.

I can't bear them!

Her mother nudges her again, concern etched on her somber face. Drusilla opens her eyes and lowers her hand, her muscles of her arm taught and tense. She stumbles up to the next step.

Then fight them, Drusilla.
Push them away.

I want to. I can't.

Mother and daughter disappear out of the frame.


ANGLE - looking across the front half of the room. It is the room Drusilla shares with Elizabeth--two beds, white muslin curtains, walnut furniture, and a large free-standing looking-glass. Drusilla's mother leads Drusilla into the bedroom and over to one of the beds. Drusilla sits down. Her mother crosses over to the window, closes the curtains, and turns.

You need to rest.

Drusilla sits quietly on the edge of the bed. She tracks her mother until she is standing in front of her again. Her mother caresses her hair.

Do you want me to sing to you?

Drusilla shakes her head.

All right, then. Rest.

Her mother touches her cheek, then turns and leaves, shutting the door. Drusilla only stares ahead. REVERSE ANGLE - her reflection in the mirror. The glass is flawed in places, WARPING her dress and her tear-stained face. She looks away quickly and stands. Then she bolts to the door, throws it open, and runs back out.


The room of fifteen-year-old EDITH and five-year-old ANNE. Little Anne is on the rug playing with one of her dolls. On her bed is a larger collection of hand-me-down-dolls cuddled together on the pillow. Edith stares up from her own bed as Drusilla charges into the room, her hand covering her quivering mouth. Edith's wary expression STOPS Drusilla short. Drusilla stares at her sister uncertainly, then turns and throws herself down on Anne's bed. Her thin shoulders shake as she gives into sobs, her fingers bunching the quilt.

Little Anne stands, walks over to Drusilla, and sits down beside her while she cries. Finally, Drusilla sits up, her eyes puffy and red. She lifts the folds of her skirt and dabs her eyes on the stiff fabric.

(voice thick with tears)
He won't speak to me anymore except to holler.
Won't even look at me.

Edith has the same uncomfortable expression on her face the whole family is wearing.

He's scared Dru. People talk.

Drusilla draws in a shuddering breath.

It's not just their talk 'e's scared of.

She sees Anne beside her, and reaches out to stroke the little girl's curling brown hair. Anne smiles and raises her doll. Drusilla takes the doll and gazes down at it.

Father says...that it's...evil.
(her voice quivers with torment)
I don't want to be an evil thing.


Aiden's red Honda Civic pulls up to the curb. He gets out and glances up at Connor's building. Some of the windows are glowing behind pulled blinds. Connor's are not.

Lights are off.

Slowly, he strolls up the walk to the front door. On the wall beside the porch is a list of tenants. Aiden presses the buzzer beside Connor's name. No response. He waits a moment, then presses the buzzer again. Another moment passes. Finally, he exhales, steps off the porch and starts down the walkway. Then he stops and turns and stares up at the building. He takes a step forward, then stops again.

None of my business. Right.

He turns and cuts across the lawn to his car. And almost stumbles over a HARD DARK LUMP on the grass.


Aiden reaches down. His hands fumble over the object. He picks it up. We can see it silhouetted in the security lamp light. A bag. Aiden walks the bag over to the porch and sets it down. It's a BLUE BOOK BAG. He unzips it. Inside is a textbook and a notebook. He zips up the bag and tries the front pocket. He pulls out a thin leather BILLFOLD and opens it under the porch-light with an unsteady hand.

INSERT - CONNOR'S FACE looks up from the driver's license.

CLOSE-UP on Aiden's expression of curious concern.

He stuffs Connor's wallet back in the book bag pocket and zips it closed. Then he slings the bag over his shoulder and walks back out to the patch of grass where he found it. He kneels down and gropes around in the grass.

(with disgust)
Ugh. Pizza.

After a second or two, we hear a jingle. Aiden's hand comes up into the light, clutching A SET OF KEYS.

Oh, boy.

He stares up at Connor's building again.


Aiden stops at Connor's apartment door. He knocks, waits a moment, then knocks again, louder.


With a frown, he lifts Connor's key chain and pokes through it. He finds a likely candidate key and unlocks the door.


The room is deep in shadows. Light from the hallway spills across the carpet. Aiden enters the room and flips the light on.


Silence. Aiden shuts the door and glances around. PAN THE ROOM. It looks just as Connor left it--a few dirty dishes in the sink, a textbook on the end table by the armchair, the television topped with a TV guide and remote.

Looks different with the lights on.

His eyes fall on the BEDROOM DOOR. He crosses over to it.


ANGLE - facing the bedroom door. Aiden steps into the doorway, a silhouette in the light from the living room. He knocks on the door.


Still no answer. Aiden flips the light on. Aiden's POV - Connor's bedroom, but no Connor. The bed is slightly rumpled but made. There's a textbook, Medieval Europe, lying face down open on the end table. The clock says 8:25 p.m. PAN THE ROOM. A pair of Nikes are toppled over on the floor. The tip of a sock is peeking out from the top drawer of the dresser. But nothing looks out of place or abnormally disordered.

Aiden exits back into the living room, pulling out his cell phone.


On the outside wall is a faded sign that reads "Wright Refrigerated Storage."


Flanking the dark doorway where Drusilla stood are now TWO VAMPIRES IN GAME-FACE, ONE MALE, ONE FEMALE. They are standing silently, eyes on -

REVERSE ANGLE - the opposite wall. Connor is still seated, chained, facing the dim-lit room. His attention is on his bound wrists. Drusilla is circling his chair slowly, her doll in the crook of her arm, her eyes intent on him. Connor clenches his fists, straining experimentally against his chains. Trey stands a few feet away, watching.

Run and catch,
run and catch,
the lamb is caught in the....

One slender hand reaches out towards Connor's head.

DRUSILLA (cont.)
...black...berry patch.

Black-tinted fingertips brush gently over his hair. Connor yanks his head away.

(drawing her hand back)
Daddy always liked that song.
Liked to listen when my mum sang it to me.
Liked to watch.

She stares into space for a moment, remembering. Connor finally glances up at her, keeping his head tilted down.

Eyes like needles.

Her attention sinks back to Connor. She strolls around until she is facing him.

God watches you, dear boy.
Keeps you from prying eyes.
(she leans down close to his ear)
The stars whispered it to me.

Slowly, she stands, then raises her hand again and spreads her fingers out over his scalp. Connor recoils, but she grips him firmly. Her eyes close.

Your head whispers to me, too.

She inhales deeply through her nose.

All sorts of dark and fearsome things.

She opens her eyes. Her attention turns to the room. She releases Connor, then steps forward a few steps--clack, clack--her slim hips swaying. She stops and twists back to him.

(eyes alight)
Do you like my new castle?

She turns again. Halfway along the wall to her left is the doorway where she entered the room. The other two vampires flank it, watching her attentively. What lies beyond looks dark and ominous. Drusilla hugs her doll to her chest.

I can feel...what it was.
Ice stiffening flesh.
Blood smeared on the floor.
Carcasses...dangling on hooks, slaughtered.

She stops at the doorway and throws a switch inside. Connor winces as the light hits his eyes.

Candles in a lit'le circle.
"We have to do this while it's fresh."

CLOSE-UP on Connor. His brow wrinkles as he watches her.

His POV - Drusilla enters the adjoining room. Through the doorway, we can see a large space with opaque windows and cement columns. It is filled with scattered artists' paraphernalia as well.

Connor's eyes flick away and are drawn to -

THE WALL BESIDE HIM, which is now more clearly illuminated by the light from the adjoining room. Lining the wall are row on row of NEATLY CURVING PIPES.

Connor stares at them a moment. Then recognition dawns in his eyes.

A wall of curling pipes. A young girl, her hands bound with rope, her face bloody and bruised, cowers on the ground beneath it.
Connor looks away from the wall quickly, only to see -

The raven-haired Drusilla, strolling slowly past the cement columns of the adjoining room, her footfalls echoing, click, clack.

Connor marches past cement columns and metal freezer doors, dragging the girl behind him, his face twisted and cold. At the center of the room is a circle of burning candles. He THROWS the girl to the floor. The dark-haired Cordelia comes to a halt behind him, a butcher knife in her hand.
Screeech. Connor jerks his chair away from brightness, straining against his ropes and chains, his eyes wide with panic. Behind him in the distance, Drusilla crumples to the floor. She rolls out flat on her back, stares up at the ceiling and laughs.


Aiden is crouched in front of Connor's end table, his hand on the lower shelf, where we see a two thick PHONE BOOKS, one YELLOW, and one WHITE.

"D" for demon hunters. I don't suppose they
advertise in the Yellow Pages. How about the
White Pages? Under "S" for "the Slayers...."

Then his fingers encounter something else. He pulls it out. It's a thin black PERSONAL ADDRESS BOOK. Aiden stands up and walks it over to the couch. He opens it on his lap to the "R's".

"Mom and Dad."
...live in San Bernardino County.

He starts to flip the pages back, his fingers sliding over the names he encounters.

They're all Northern California.

Then his finger stops.

"Dave Fanelli."

His finger slides down to the name below Dave's.

(he sits back)
I remember her from your birthday dinner.
Jeez, doesn't she have a last name?
(he chuckles)
Three phone numbers.
You must really like this girl.

He picks up his cell phone and grins.

Can't say I blame you.
But would you literally drop everything
if she stopped by?

He dials one of the numbers and lets it ring. Then he disconnects the phone and tries another. CLOSE-UP on the PHONE near his ear. We hear Faith's tiny distant voice on the other end -

Silver Lake Fitness Training.
Can you hang on a sec?

Aiden pauses, his mouth open to speak.


Faith is seated at her desk, one hand clutching the phone receiver, the other cupping the mouth piece. She looks up at her doorway.

Can you just drive her home anyway?!
(then, mumbling to herself)
"Your daughter's got super-powers."
"Oh! But she shouldn't walk home alone in the dark."

Faith releases her hand.

Yeah, who's calling?


Aiden smiles reflexively.

My name's Aiden Walsh. We met a couple weeks
ago at Connor Reilly's birthday party?
(his smile fades)
Oh. Well, I remember you.
Anyway, I was wondering if you knew where
he was. See he....
No, I know, but he didn't show up for class,
and then he was supposed to meet some of us
at that pub afterwards, but he didn't show
up there, either, and I thought maybe....
No, that's where I am now. He's not here.
But see, I found his book bag lying out on
the front lawn. I--I'm afraid something might
have happened to him....
His car?

Aiden stands up and walks the phone over to the living room window, then backs away from it. He heads over to the front door.

Well, his keys were out there, too,
on the grass.
Hang on, I'm going to go out back and....

Aiden stops at the door.



Faith pushes her chair away from her desk.

I'll meet you there.



Part 2 (click here)

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cwx at 2004-11-21 14:29 (UTC) (Link)
Whoa! This is the first time I clicked on one of these links, so I didn't know you did it in Must See TV script format like this. Pretty swanky! ;)
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-21 14:31 (UTC) (Link)


Thanks! Although if you read it, you might want to start with Episode 1.
No Alcohol Lager
natgel at 2004-11-24 08:52 (UTC) (Link)
Okay, a bound Connor and a hot vampire with bad intentions. You know I love moments like these! Eep! *goes back to reading*
No Alcohol Lager
natgel at 2004-11-24 08:54 (UTC) (Link)
Oh darn, they were disturbed. You're evil. Hey! Dru! Yay! (Pay me no heed. I'm writing as I go along)
No Alcohol Lager
natgel at 2004-11-24 08:59 (UTC) (Link)
I love the scene with Dru's family. I don't remember a lot about those few in between scenes she had as a human, but I always figured Dru's gift was looked upon like the work of the devil, the whole super-religious thing and everything.

Miss Edith was her sister? Dude!
No Alcohol Lager
natgel at 2004-11-24 09:01 (UTC) (Link)
Connor's going to be rescued by that Chole Sullivan guy, right?
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-24 09:14 (UTC) (Link)
Drusilla is all about family. When she was human, her mortal family was what mattered to her, and so it really tormented her when (in "Becoming") her mother said her visions were "an affront to the Lord", and Angelus told her to give in to the visions and "be evil".

In "What's My Line" Drusilla tormented Angel in return by reminding him about how he killed her family. She mentioned "Little Anne" with the "little fingers, little hands". That's where I got Anne. The other two older sisters are from "Dear Boy" where Darla and Angelus spot mortal Dru on the street with her parents and two teen-aged sisters.

I decided Dru's attachment to her mortal family would continue in a perverse way after she is vamped when she takes all of Anne's dolls (most of which are hand-me-downs, and so probably some of them used to be hers) as souveniers, and names them after her sisters.
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-24 08:58 (UTC) (Link)
I figured there'd be some readers with a kink for Connor in chains. ; )
cornerofmadness at 2004-11-24 09:09 (UTC) (Link)
Can't say I blame you.
But would you literally drop everything
if she stopped by?
Okay Aiden thank you for making me laughing my tea all over the computer.

The only other thing I have to say is OOOOO DRU! I loved Dru with Connor and I especially loved her non-insane past. Thanks for that.
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-24 09:33 (UTC) (Link)
When I thought of how to bring the past back to haunt Connor Dru was such the logical choice. First, she's about the only Fanged Four member left, she's psychic so she can get into his head, she's completely sensual/incestuous, she has mountains of history with Connor's parents, and she's all about family, just like our boy.
cornerofmadness at 2004-11-24 09:40 (UTC) (Link)
I can't argue any of that. She is just so much fun too (I did the family thing with Connor/Dru last Christmas in Once Upon a Midnight Dreary). She's tough to write and you're doing a good job with her.
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-24 09:51 (UTC) (Link)
Thanks. Writing her is exhausting. I was just saying how I got out the ol' DVDs and tapes and watched every Dru episode ever trying to get a handle on her mannerisms, her behavioral tendencies, her history, her way of speaking and thinking. And of course, her presence in the story is almost entirely as a foil to push Connor's story forward (plus, you know, the fun of Dru and Dru/Connor), so everything she does and says has to play into Connor's story some how. I have very little space in these episodes for her to be random. But nothing Dru says is ever really as random as it sounds.

*keels over*
cornerofmadness at 2004-11-24 09:11 (UTC) (Link)
Oh I forgot to mention THANK YOU for Connor in chains. That's one of my favorite things. If Dru brings caramel I'll be in heaven
Darth Masq, Sith Lord of Philosophy
masqthephlsphr at 2004-11-24 09:23 (UTC) (Link)

; )

I figured some readers had a kink.

There was a meme going around a few weeks ago where people were posting isolated lines from each of their recent stories, something they thought would sound enticing to potential readers, and I thought of posting this for TD:

"A WALL. A wall of horizontal wood planks. Flickering shadows dance across it.

In the background, the rhythmic lapping continues.

Slowly, we PULL BACK from the wall and CIRCLE AROUND in a TIGHT SHOT until we see CONNOR, eyes at half-mast, sitting in a simple black plastic and metal chair. His wrists are bound together with chains. His ankles are apart, but also shackled to each other. And his chest has been tied to the back of the chair by a thick coiled rope."
cornerofmadness at 2004-11-24 09:42 (UTC) (Link)

Re: ; )

That would have lured me in, no doubt about it (Spike, Angel or Giles in the same situation would have the same effect. I like tied up boys) At some point I wanted to have my tied up boys icon but I'm not quite talented enough to pull it off.
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