Angel: Apparently not coming.

Spike: But this is an important meeting.

Angel: At least somebody --

Spike: My first official parley as a very loosely affiliated member of the-- What are we? Tell me we’re not Scoobies.

Angel: We don’t have a--

Spike: A name? That’s probably for the best. You’d want to be ‘Angel’s Avengers’ or something.

Angel: ‘Angel’s Avengers’ that’s. . . . [looks thoughtful]

Spike: So. What’s on the ‘genda?

Angel: Ah, I have, ah, assignments for people. [sound of beer can being opened]

Spike: What? I’m listening. With beer.

Angel: Forget it. This isn’t a meeting, this is you, being annoying. Aaaaahhhhhhh.

Spike: Hey! Bullet points. Classy. . . . [reads assignments] Why am I always reconnaissance? I should get a decently flash gig like ‘save the girl.’ Or ‘steal the emerald with the girl.’

Angel: Handsome man saved me from the monsters.

Spike: Exactly, or. . . What’s that now?

Angel: It’s the first thing Fred said to me. In Pylea. She was trapped. Hiding. Afraid. Nearly crazy. Crazy, but brave. Should never have let her come here. Bad things always happen here.

Spike: Hate to break it to you, mate, but bad things always happen everywhere. ‘Sides, she wanted to be here. It was her choice.

Angel: Was it?

Spike: Bugger. You’re fixing to do something stupid, aren’t you?

Angel: Done it. Came here. Spend every day lying to myself. About making the world a better place.

Spike: Welcome to the planet. We all paint on our happy faces every day when all we really want is to pound the neighbor’s missus, steal his Ben Franklins. While we’re at it, not think about the third of the world that’s starving to death.

Angel: I’m not saying that I could fix everything, I just, I have to do better. The Senior Partners have a plan.

Spike: Yeah, the prophecy. The ever-loving apocalypse that you keep going on about.

Angel: Yeah, which apocalypse? The one last year or the one before that? The Senior Partners are up to something now and I’m not •waiting• for them to spring it on us. We’re through operating in the dark.

Spike: Ok, then. Might be easier if we knew anyone who had a direct line to the big guys.

Lorne: More ‘sea’ less ‘breeze.’

Lorne: What I know is I started drinking the moment I found out that a girl I loved was going to die. Every time I get to the bottom of a glass I hope that that last drop is going to take me the distance.

Angel: We have a problem. Senior Partners found Eve. They sent something to take her out. I need to know if I have jurisdiction to protect her. What’s protocol here?

Gunn: I don’t know.

Angel: Right. Well, when you’re through reading about important things like Trista and Ryan’s big baby plans, maybe you can put some thought into it.

Gunn: I’m just not sure.

Angel: You paid a high price for what’s in that brain. So use it.

Gunn: There’s a proviso in your contract. Says that a CEO of a Wolfram & Hart branch can invoke an arapeo salvas order. It says you’re taking custody of a wayward employee. It’s not usually used for protection, but it should work.

Angel: Great. How do I--

Gunn: I’ll make a call.

Angel: Good. Gunn, I know you feel bad about your part in what happened to Fred. And you should. For the rest of your life it should wake you up in the middle of the night. And it will. Because you’re a good man. You signed a piece of paper, that’s all.

Gunn: But I knew. Not about Fred, but when I signed I knew there would be consequences.

Angel: The thing about atonement is you never run out of chances. But you’ve got to take them. You can’t hide in some hospital room, pretend it’s all going to go away, because it never will.

Dream Fred: Tell me a joke.

Wes: Two men walk into a bar. The first man orders a Scotch and soda. The second man remembers something he’d forgotten and doubles him over with pain. He falls to the floor shaking. And then through the floor and into the earth. He looks back up to the first man, but he doesn’t call out to him. They’re not that close.

Dream Fred: Yeah. You always know where you are.

Wes: It’s my particular skill.

Dream Fred: This is only the first layer. Don’t you want to see how deep I go?

Illyria: You’ve been sitting for a long time.

Wes: Yeah. Dozed off.

Illyria: You drank a great deal of that poison. You called me a lot of names meant to hurt feelings I no longer have. And then you sat there for hours making noise with your nose.

Wes: I was dreaming, you twit.

Illyria: You said her name. Fred.

Wes: It was a nightmare. I don’t suppose you have nightmares. Or sleep, or any of that human crap.

Illyria: In my time nightmares walked among us. Walked and danced, skewering victims in plain sight, laying their fears and worst desires out for everyone to see. This to make us laugh.

Wes: I’ll bet you were jolly as frat boys.

Eve: Brilliant. Really. Never look for me here. I’m gonna die.

Spike: You make it hard for me want to help you.

Angel: We don’t want to help her, but we will. You’re under my protection.

Eve: Thank the gods.

Angel: You know I can take it away with a phone call. Convince me not to, Eve.

Eve: How can I?

Angel: Let’s start with something easy, huh? You.

Eve: Me?

Angel: What are you? What do you do for the Senior Partners?

Eve: I’m a liaison. I liaise. What do you want me to say? I’m a leprechaun. I’m from Brigadoon.

Spike: If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one.

Eve: Angel, for someone so old, you’re so young.

Spike: There’s thousands of different kinds of hells. You got your fire hell, your ice hell, your. . . . ice hell, your. . . . upside down hell.

Angel: I don’t care if he’s in toy-poodles-on-parade hell, he’s got information that we need.

Spike: According to the girl whose only reason for being is to see her little pookie-bear again.

Eve: I’m not lying. [to Lorne] Tell him I’m not lying.

Lorne: No one can fake it through the Piña Colada song. Not once the chorus kicks in.

Angel: If Lindsey can tell me what the Senior Partners have planned, I want him. You’ve got a better idea how to do it, I’m totally open.

Spike: Didn’t say that. Just pointed out that this one sucks. Looking for a hell dimension in a haystack. How are we supposed to know--

Gunn: I know. And I can get us in.

Angel: Us?

Gunn: Started flipping through the brain files as soon as Harmony told me. Figured there had to be some kind a precedent.

Angel: And?

Gunn: Senior Partners had trouble with a guy in the Tokyo division way back. Lindsey probably got the tattoo idea from studying up on him.

Angel: So wherever they sent this guy, that’s where Lindsey is.

Gunn: Yep.

Spike: I hope it’s toy poodle hell. Might vilify him.

Gunn: It’s not hell, it’s a Wolfram & Hart holding dimension.

Angel: Meaning what? The Senior Partners haven’t decided what to do with Lindsey?

Gunn: Their version of a penalty box.

Angel: So how do we supposed to get there?

Gunn: Ever taken the Camaro?

Angel: This is weirding me out. Is this weirding you out?

Spike: What? You never heard of “Knight Ridder”? Knight Industries 2000? Kit? Never mind.

Gunn: Car’s built to get us there. Once we find Lindsey it’s on us to find the Wrath.

Spike: The •Wrath•?! You know that’s going to be a giggle.

Gunn: What ever it is we got to go through it to get out.

Spike: This isn’t hell. It’s the ‘burbs. Close enough.

Angel: This is Lindsey’s punishment? For trying to kill me? •laughs• Maybe it’s a reward.

Wes: You could go anywhere. You could leave.

Illyria: It’s not possible.

Wes: Of course it’s possible. Are you telling me the great Illyria, idol of millions, was limited to one small dimension?

Illyria: I traveled all of them as I pleased. I walked worlds of smoke and half-truths intangible. Worlds of torment, and of unnamable beauty. Opaline towers as high as small moons, glaciers that rippled with insensate lust. And one world of nothing but shrimp. I tired of that one quickly.

Spike: Oh, so we just open with being on fire. That’s great.

Angel: We’ll put our coats over our heads. Make a run for it.

[Gunn opens the car door letting sunshine in.]

Spike & Angel: Aaaaah!

Gunn: Alternate dimension, remember? Sun’s the non-frying variety.

Spike: Figured that.

Angel: Right.

Gunn: Can we go?

Angel: Yeah. Grab Lindsey go.

Gunn: Kill anything in our way.

Spike: What’s going to be in our way, the family mutt?

Gunn: This is Wolfram & Hart. Odds are there’s something ugly behind that door.

[Door is opened by very pretty blonde woman.]

Spike: Cut the act, Ward. June’s gone.

Eve: What is taking so long? They should be back by now.

Harmony: It’s really hard to get a firm ETA on alternate dimension travel. I’ve tried.

Eve: I just want him back. And I don’t want to die.

Lorne: Oh calm down, Chicken Little. No body can lay a finger on you without Angel’s permission.

Harmony: Yeah, I got strict instructions. No torture. You’re totally safe.

Eve: You don’t get it. Some stupid legal order isn’t going to matter. The Senior Partners--

Lorne: Nobody can darken our bulletproof doors, not without our fearless leader’s say-so. This place is a fortress. [sirens sound]

Harmony: Uh oh.

Lorne: This thing coming after you, how bad on a scale of, say, 1 to “Terminator”?

Eve: Oh, God. He’s here.

Harmony: •That’s• the guy? He’s just a suit.

Guard: Hey you, stop! Put your hands up!

[Marcus puts his forearm through the guard’s chest.]

Eve & Lorne & Harmony: Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Gunn: We’ve got to find the Wrath. Where’s the Wrath?

Spike: What’s not the Wrath? Wrath’s all over!

Angel: Lindsey, think! Do you know where it is?

Lindsey: I don’t know!

Gunn: Over by the kitchen. Might be a way out through the cellar.

Lindsey: No, we can’t go down there. Not the cellar.

Spike: Cellar it is, then.

Gunn: Guess we found the Wrath.

Eve: Close the door!

Lorne: I’m not doing the polka, bean pole.

Spike: Heart. Whose are these?

Lindsey: Mine.

Spike: Oh.

Angel: Gunn, no! What the hell are you doing?

Gunn: What needs to be done.

Angel: I’m not leaving you here.

Gunn: You don’t make the rules here, Wolfram & Hart does. If one leaves one has to stay. A void is impossible.

Angel: You knew.

Gunn: Thing about atonement.

Angel: Gunn. . . . Let’s go.

Lorne: Holy motor pool!

Lorne: You’ll like Canada. Lots of deserters.

Spike: I’m on fire! Oh. Never mind.

Eve: Lindsey! What did they do to you?

Angel: He’ll be fine.

Spike: Whereas we got shot and almost killed by a juiced-up S&M demon, thanks for asking.

Angel: Damn. He is well dressed.

Angel: Eve’s under my protection. You can’t touch her.

[Marcus takes a pen out of his suit coat.]

Spike: Well. Didn’t see that coming.

Marcus: You know how it works, Eve.

Eve: You could talk to the Senior Partners. Tell them it’s a mistake.

Marcus: That’s impossible.

Angel: Back off.

Eve: Don’t bother, Angel. It’s over.

Marcus: Sign here. . . . . Good girl.

Angel: What the hell’s going on?

Marcus: Oh, sorry for the intrusion. I’m Marcus Hamilton, your new liaison to the Senior Partners. And here. . .

Angel: You’re •what•?

Marcus: Along with her immortality and certain other privileges, Eve has signed over her duties to me. And, oh, and initial there.

Angel: This is about a contract? I thought you said you were going to die.

Eve: And now one day I will.

Marcus: The Senior Partners felt it was time for a change. Eve was too easily distracted. Lost sight of the big picture.

Eve: I fell in love.

Marcus: Yes. Congratulations. Wonderful escape, by the way. Very clever. We’ll be in touch. Oh, I have some excellent ideas I can’t wait to share.

Angel: This is my house. The only ideas that matter are mine.

Marcus: Absolutely. That’s the policy. The Senior Partners are behind you 100%.

Angel: I doubt that.

Marcus: I’m looking forward to working myself into the mix. Angel. Spike. Welcome to the team.

Lorne: Well he’s not so bad.

Illyria: Now I’m trapped on a roof. This one roof in this time and this place with an unstable human who drinks too much whiskey and called me a smurf.

Wes: Ha.

Illyria: You don’t worship me at all, do you?

Wes: And you really can’t leave.

Illyria: I don’t know. I fear that in any other dimension in this form I’d be but prey to those I knew. I reek of humanity.

Wes: Don’t flatter yourself.

Wes: There are things worse than walls. Terrible. And beautiful. If we look at them for too long they will burn right through us. Truths we couldn’t bear. Not every day.

Illyria: We are so weak.

Wes: Yes. Yes we are.

Spike: Ouch! Take it easy, Green Jeans.

Lorne: Yeah. I’m afraid I don’t have Fredikins gentle touch.

Spike: Just get on with it.

Lindsey: Look. It’s the hero of the hour.

Angel: I’m not your hero. I’m your warden.

Lindsey: It’s all how you look at the glass.

Angel: I thought a few months torture at the hands of the Senior Partners would have dug a little deeper.

Lindsey: Just scratched the surface. Turns out they can only undo you as far as you think you deserve to be undone. I wonder how Gunn’s going to make out.

Angel: Senior Partners. I want to know everything you know about them. About the apocalypse. About their plans for me.

Spike: And for me. Guy with the pen said “welcome to the team.” Musta meant something.

Lindsey: You know what I know. Look around. World’s a cesspool, filled with selfish and greedy beasts. We live. We die. Even you, babe.

Eve: Lindsey, don’t.

Lindsey: You still happy to see me?

Angel: Yeah. Hell’s on earth. Holland Manners tried to sell me that line three years ago.

Lindsey: Did you ever prove him wrong?

Angel: All how you look at the glass. You know, Lindsey, we could philosophize all night. Hell, we could do it forever. I don’t need to eat, sleep, drink. How about you?

Lindsey: That’s what I like to see. Angel-viewler. Takes no prisoners. Suffers no fools. How about this. It’s here. It’s been here all along. Underneath. You’re just too damn stupid to see it.

Angel: See what?

Lindsey: The apocalypse, man. You’re soaking in it.

Spike: Seen an apocalypse or two in my time. I’d know if one was under my nose.

Lindsey: Not •an• apocalypse, •the• apocalypse. What? Did you think a gong was going to sound? Time to jump on your horses and fight the big fight? Starting pistol went off a long time ago, boys. You’re playing for the bad buys. Every day you sit behind your desk and learn a little more to accept the world the way it is. Well here’s the rub: heroes don’t do that. Heroes don’t accept the world the way it is. They fight it.

Angel: You’re saying. . . . everything that we do, it’s a distraction. Keep us busy from looking under the surface.

Lindsey: Ding! We’ve got a winner. World keeps sliding toward entropy and degradation, and what do you do? You sit in your big chair, and you sign your checks, just like the Senior Partners planned. War’s here, Angel. And you’re already two soldiers down.

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