Mary Beth's Synopsis

"We're doomed," comes Wesley's harsh whisper over a black screen. The scene opens close-up on Angel's face -- his tense, unwavering gaze remains steady on something in front of him as he offers a solution "Maybe we can make a break for it." Wesley doesn't look any less worried than his counterpart and he's skeptical about their chances. Angel asks about the front exit. "We'd be spotted instantly," counters Wesley. "Back door?" Angel asks. "Blocked." Boy, this must be bad. "That's it then," Angel relents. "We're trapped." Wesley has one final solution to their dire situation: "We might try shouting fire," he suggests as the camera pulls back to reveal: "It's not technically a crowded theater."

It's worse than we suspected. Our Heros are trapped in the audience of a Cordelia Chase production. My only question is: what did the other few attendees do to deserve this punishment? Yes, Cordy's on stage in a production of Ibsen's "A Doll's House" (thanks Celli!) demonstrating the same knack for acting as she did for singing back in Sunnydale High's annual talentless show (how can anyone ever forget her "stirring" rendition of "The Greatest Love of All"? And if you have, can you share your secret?) Anyway, Cordy has no talent. This is no surprise. Wesley tries to buck it up and point out that they've only got an hour to go.

"Of course, a time . . .will come. . . " Cordy stammers from the stage -- methinks she studied the Shatner approach a little too closely "When Torvald is not . . . is not . . ." She needs a prompt for her line. "Or two," concedes Wesley."

Angel can only sigh: "And I thought I knew eternity."

~*~*~*~

Later that night, the show is over and the guys are walking Cordy home. She, of course, wants to know what they thought. They, of course, don't want to tell her. First they hedge, telling her that her projection was excellent and they could hear every word -- even from way in the back. "OK, I was loud," Cordy replies, "But was I any good?" Wesley, ever the gentleman, manages the backhanded compliment of "you took the role and made it your own." Cordy is pleased, then turns to Angel and asks "Was I any good?"

Angel, who is less actually less-adept at human relations than Wesley (if you can imagine), tries valiantly to respond: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't thinks so."

"Really? Thanks!" Cordy replies. . . until the light dawns. "You didn't say it. . ." she starts. Caught, Angel tries to cover, but Cordy is quickly distracted by a crowd across the street -- which includes Oliver Simon -- "only one of the most important talent managers in this town!" She reminds Angel that they were both at a party with him once -- back in City of. You know, the guy who not only thought Angel had potential, but also potential (*wink*wink*). Remember? Angel does. Cordy is miffed when Angel tells her Oliver gave him his card. "He thought I had a quality." She'd be more disgusted if she wasn't once again easily distracted by the person with Oliver -- Rebecca Lowell!

Angel and Wesley are as clueless as the viewer, but Cordy explains -- with great exasperation over their lack of pop culture knowledge, forgetting, I guess just who she's dealing with -- that she starred as Raven in "On Your Own," that seminal tv show that was on for 9 1/2 years before the stupid network (I'd say ABC, but if it lasted 9 1/2 years it was more likely NBC) canceled it. While Cordy continues to ramble, Angel spots a mysterious car down the street that pulls out and speeds toward Rebecca, who has conveniently wandered into the middle of the road to wait for her car. Angel leaps to action, getting to Rebecca in time to shove her out of the way and take the brunt of the hit himself. He rolls across the street, of course, only mildly shaken by the incident.

Wesley and Cordy rush to Angel's side as he gets up. Wesley is concerned for Angel's well-being, Cordy wants to know what Rebecca's really like, and Rebecca wants to thank him and check on him. However, Rebecca can't get near him or a word in edgewise because Cordelia has turned in to the epitome of the blithering fangirl. She trails off when she realizes that Rebecca really is more interested in Angel (duh!) -- who has her intrigued because he honestly doesn't know how she is. "He's culturally retarded that way," replies Cordy. Oliver figures him for a fortune and fame seeker, but Rebecca calls him off, too. She introduces herself and asks Angel if he makes a habit of this sort of them. Cordy, who seems to be stuck on babble mode, says that indeed he does, telling Rebecca that he's the "Dark Avenger -- only not too dark. Happy dark!" Rebecca is distracted by the growing press, "Oh god," she moans, "Who called ET?" Wesley, distracted, pipes up "Emma Thompson?" And starts searching the crowd. God love him, it's silly -- but adorable. While Rebecca's attention is elsewhere, Angel makes a hasty retreat. Cordy shoves their card in her hand while Wesley drags her off, and Rebecca watches as Angel disappears around a corner.

The next morning, at the office, Cordy is all atwitter (I just wanted to type that) about the previous night's events. It's all over the paper! Well. . . the Calendar section (and one wonders if Angel ever winces at that word. . . ). Wesley at first thinks she means someone actually reviewed her play. But she's talking about the Rebecca Lowell incident (Methinks she probably hasn't stopped talking about it. I suspect she kept poor Dennis up all night. But I digress.) Cordy's even more thrilled that she's in the picture! Wesley can't seem to spot her, until she points out her elbow next to Rebecca Lowell. Angel, who's been listening to their exchange, tries to get them to calm down about it all. It's no big deal, he tells them, that he saved some TV Star and got his name in the paper. "There's no mention of you," says Wesley. Angel is a bit more disappointed by this than he'd like to admit. He tries to shake it off. It's good that they not get too high profile, he covers.

Cordy doesn't understand. She reminds Angel that Rebecca Lowell hasn't had a series since her show was canceled a season and a half ago. "And they say there are no seasons in Los Angeles," Wesley quips brightly. Okay, who's been putting the witty pills in that boy's tea? Meanwhile, Cordy continues trying to convince Angel that they need to use Rebecca to their advantage before "she becomes another E! True Hollywood Story." If word gets out that they protect stars, they'll have clients lining up at the door, she insists. Then freezes in horror as a voice -- Rebecca's -- chimes in from said door "Glad I beat the crowd then."

Rebecca has arrived, sunglasses on and two beefy bodyguards in tow. Cordy immediately starts genuflecting, which is really hard to do with a foot in your mouth, it seems. Rebecca ignores her and removes her sunglasses -- the better to gaze into Angel's eyes. She wants to talk to Angel, in private. He invites her into his office. She turns and tells her bodyguards to stay and walks past him into the office. Angel then turns to Cordy and Wesley and with just a trace of a smile, tells them to stay and then joins Rebecca in his office.

There, Rebecca takes in the surroundings while Angel watches her tensely. Rebecca notices the drawn shades -- "you're not fond of sunshine." "I'm a night person," Angel covers. Something they have in common. It's easier to hide in the dark, Rebecca thinks. Angel thinks she's in the wrong business for hiding. Rebecca is also still hung up on the fact that Angel hasn't ever seen her show. She invites him to stop by her place for a "private screening of the episode she didn't win the Emmy for." Angel thanks her for the invitation, but tries to decline. Rebecca tells him that having been in the business since she was 14, she's refreshed by someone who doesn't care. Angel points out that she's surrounded by people who care. "They're paid to care," she reminds him. Then mercifully gets to the point of her visit: letters. Threatening letters, scrawled in blood. The stalker has also gotten her home number and called her at all hours of the night. Angel first reassures her that the letters are not written in blood. And then asks her about the police. She doesn't want the publicity that would surely come with a police investigation. Angel wants to know how she's so sure he wouldn't sell her story, too. She doesn't, but she knows he saved her life and didn't ask for anything in return. And she knows that she "feels safer in his office" than she does in her own home.

They lock gazes for a moment as Angel considers this. Rebecca breaks the moment by babbling about how she's up for a new series -- something that could really help jump start her career. She wants peace of mind. Angel reaches for a folder and reads of info inside on the car that ran Rebecca down. He hands her the info . . . and then tells her he can't take the case.

"ARE YOU INSANE!" Cordy yells from the outer office, peaking in through the window. . . . before faking a sneeze and retreating away.

Rebecca is just as perplexed, but not nearly as obvious. Angel quietly tells her to give the information to her people to find the guy. She doesn't need him. Rebecca takes the folder just as quietly and leaves.

A little later, however, Cordy is not nearly as silent on the matter. She is trying to understand how Angel could practically kick her one link to fame out the door. (I'm sure that by "one link to fame" she means "a paying client." But that might just be me.) "Haven't you ever heard of networking?" she asks Angel. Wesley, who's lounging Doyle-like in the doorway, tries quietly to calm her, but she's on a roll. "He can fight off donkey demons and rip people's guts out, but he can't protect one defenseless actress from a psycho? What is your thing?!" She asks Angel. "He likes her," Wesley says simply. "He's afraid to get close." Angel says nothing; his silence is his answer.

This connects with Cordy. "'Cuz of his curse." Well, she reminds Angel that he'd have to get awfully close for the curse to kick in. "But in the meantime, you could be helping me!" she reminds him. Wesley points out that Miss Lowell is the client, so Cordy generously amends her statement to "He could help us both! Think of the karma!"

Wesley tells Angel he's on his side, when Cordy grabs her head in mock pain and proves once again she's not an actress by trying to convince the guys she's gotten a vision of Rebecca in need. They don't buy it. She gives up, and petulantly chastises Angel for letting his "intimacy issues" loose her one brush with fame. Exasperated, Angel tries to remind Cordy that Rebecca is just a person, too. "Spoken like a true non-person," Cordy shoots back. Angel looks to Wesley for help, but he seems annoyingly amused by the situation. Cordy's immaturity is really showing here, as she tells them "just knowing a star makes your life better. I'd do anything to live in her world!"

"Her world" at this point consists of having her eyebrows ripped off by some teen-aged beautician who magnifies Rebecca's insecurities by insisting she has to be proactive with her looks -- face lifts, liposuction . . . all the things Rebecca most decidedly does not need. But Rebecca, of course, is buying it. Anything to look younger.

Later that night, we watch as Rebecca hosts a Beautiful Party in her Beautiful Home for all her Beautiful Friends . . . . none of home seem to even notice Rebecca. Alone in a crowd, Rebecca sits as the people trickle away. . . until she's alone with herself. Except she's being watched from outside. She starts to head up to bed, but a sound catches her attention. Back downstairs, she jumps as Angel comes crashing through her sliding glass door. Before she can react, though, Angel tackles a masked figure who was sneaking up on Rebecca from behind. The figure manages to break free and knock a bookcase down on Angel, buying time for his escape. Rebecca runs to Angel and helps him up. She starts to ask him if he's okay, but stops short and stares behind him. Angel turns to see Rebecca's reflection in the wall-length mirror -- but, of course, not his. A knock on the door from security startles them both. And again, when Rebecca's attention is diverted, Angel slips away.

~*~*~*~

Later that night, half of the LAPD scours Rebecca's home for clues about her attacker, while Rebecca tries to assure Oliver that she's fine. He relents and heads off to deal with the press--but not before reminding Rebecca that he loves her (like an agent). Rebecca checks her locks and heads upstairs where she calls out "I know you're still here." Angel emerges from the shadows at the end of the hall.

"I'm not what you think," he begins. But Rebecca's a pretty bright gal for an actress. "You're not?" she asks. "Because -- no reflection, dark private office, instantly knowing those letters weren't written in blood -- I guess what I'd would think is. . . vampire." "Then again . . . ." Angel starts. But Rebecca isn't finished. "Which is impossible. Bela Lugosi, Gary Oldman -- they're vampires." Oh yeah, she's got a firm grip on reality. "Frank Langella was the only performance I believed, but . . ." Speaking of slipping grips. Hello? Langella better than Oldman? Anyway, Rebecca continues to question Angel, inching ever closer. "Do you drink blood?" She asks. Yes, he tells her. But not people. "You're not a killer." No, he gave that up. "There's a support group for everything in this town." This girl is entirely too calm in the face of this revelation if you ask me. "Long story," Angel respond. "How long?" Rebecca starts, and I brace myself for the umpteenth "maybe not that long" joke, but thankfully it doesn't come. Rebecca is arm's length from Angel now as she wonders how old he is. 100 years? "200 and some change." She's amazed he looks so young. "If I touch you, will you be cold?" She doesn't wait for an answer, reaching out to touch his face. Angel is too surprised by her reaction to do anything but stand there as she brushes his face. "I've felt colder." Angel is in awe that she's not afraid, most people would be. (She's not most people, I think.) "I'm not most people," she responds. Followed by the obligatory "I really didn't want to be alone tonight" invitation to stay and keep her company.

Full moon turns to daylight, and Cordy arrives at work to find Wesley sitting at her desk and no Angel to be found. "He took the case?" she asks. Wesley confirms this and lets her know that Angel phoned in earlier and asked them to follow up on the stolen vehicle. Cordy's curious about what made him change his mind, but he didn't, says Wesley. He was keeping an eye on her all along. Finally, Cordy realizes that Angel called earlier. As in, did he spend the night? One would assume, Wesley replies distractedly as he goes about researching the stolen car in the phone book (Do car thiefs advertise now?). Cordy is not comforted. "Great. He spent the night with the fantasy of millions. All alone." Wesley finally realizes she's worried about the curse and tries to reassure her. "Hey, you weren't around the last time Angel went mental. I, on the other hand, was on the first wave of the clean-up crew." Cordy continues to fill in the back story: "He knows perfect happiness, he goes evil. Don't tell me not to worry." Wesley reminds her that moment of happiness occurred because he was with Buffy and that true happiness isn't likely to happen very often. Especially with an actress. Oops. Wonder Watcher forgot who he was talking to. Off Cordy's "What's that supposed to mean?" Wesley tries to cover. "I meant TV actress." Nice save. Cordy decides to go check up on Rebecca and make sure Angel didn't "end up chowing down on her one link to fame." Wesley can only smile and shake his head as she leaves.

At Rebecca's, Angel comes downstairs to find Cordy in the sunlit doorway to the patio. "You're here. And you brought a cross," He sighs. Yup. She's got a BIG old cross strapped around her neck. Bet she's gotta stake in that bag over her shoulder, too. "Along with three double half-caf non-fat skinny lattes!" She tries to point out. "And a cross," says Angel, who seems honestly disappointed in her. But Cordy seems mollified. "Well, judging by the outfit, I guess it's safe to come in. Evil Angel never would have worn those pants." She's right. No leather in sight. Dammit.

Cordy asks where Rebecca is as she puts down the coffee and starts snooping. She had a lunch to go to, Angel tells her, after getting up early to work out.Cordy meanwhile has looked in drawers, shuffled through the mail, and started on the living room drawers, too. "She just left you here to rummage through her things?" Cordy asks. "No," Angel finally stops her, "I told her I was a vampire and that daytime patio dining was out." Cordy think he's joking (she's impressed), but he tells her he's not kidding. He really told her. He stills seems rather in shock about it. Cordy, too. "Wow," she says. "So do you think she'd still set me up with her manager?" She asks, punctuating it with flash of that patented Cordy smile that says "I know I'm being superficial, but don't you love me anyway?"

Rebecca meanwhile meets up with Oliver for lunch, just in time to find out that The People cancelled. Oliver tries to cover -- not caneled, postponed. She thought she had the part. Oliver says she does. . . sort of. They want her to come in to read. "Read?" she asks as if he's speaking tongues.

Back at her house, Rebecca is on the treadmill working out -- again -- while Angel sits nearby. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had to read?" she asks. She's realizing just how fleeting fame is. Angel points out that the tabloids seem to remember who she is. "According to those" she points out "I've slept with Ernest Borgnine, and I'm bulimic." "I hear Borgnine's a very skilled lover," Angel jokes. He jokes! He's been drinking the same stuff as Wesley!

Rebecca mopes some more about being a poor forgotten child star and how desperate she is for this part. She's been out of the game too long. She's interrupted by a knock at the door -- her maid has brought her a garment bag. "You're what," she asks, "a 44 long?" Why, Angel wants to konw. She's got a premiere that night, and she's gonna need a bodyguard.

Cut to that night, Angel gets out of a limo - yeah yeah, he's wearing a lovely suit, one of those tuxes with the long black necktie. But his hair! They've done that slicked back thing with his hair! Again! After I expressly told them not to. Damn them. *ahem* Anyway, he's a bit taken aback by the throng of people and the press and the flashbulbs, but he helps Rebecca out of the car and she positively eats it up. Down the red carpet they go, not noticing the Sinister Guy in a tux with a gun holstered out of sight who watches them pass. Into the theater they go . . . and right back out the back alley door.

Angel's confused, but Rebecca tells him she always does this. She comes for the photo op; her driver knows to wait for her behind the theater. Someone watches from above as she babbles away, Angel notices and shoves her out of the way just as the Sinister Guy takes aim and fires from the fire escape above. With Rebecca out of the way, Angel runs and leaps up, disarming the guy, knocking him down and out. It's a pretty easy take down for Angel actually. With the guy out cold, he runs to comfort Rebecca. But Rebecca looks perplexed as she looks at the face of her attacker.

Out front, Angel gives a statement to the police while Rebecca stands nearby, looking less than pleased when Oliver arrives. He came as soon as he heard, he tells her. And when was that, she asks. He's confused. Rebecca explains: She knows the stalker. Seen him before. At your house, Oliver reminds her. But that's not it. He's a stunt man, Rebecca tells him. One of Oliver's clients. She's on to him; she's put it all together -- how the stalker got her private info. Info that only Oliver knows. Oliver caves pretty easily, actually. He did it for her own good, of course -- so the publicity could help her get the part. "I don't pay you to love me," she tells him. "No, that you get for free." She realizes she didn't get the part. Oliver confirms this -- the network thought she was too mature for the role. I'm going to have to gag now, because Tamara Gorski is young and gorgeous. Oliver tries to gloss the situation -- once they get some more distance from Raven, her former character, things will get better. But Rebecca isn't buying it. With the series in syndication, she'll alwasy be around, looking younger and better and sweeter (and with dated hair and clothing, I might add). "You're life is not over at 24," Oliver insists. "I'm not 24," she cries. "I'm twenty--" but shushes her. "Raven is 22," she continues. "She'll always be 22." Oliver reminds her that she's not Raven . . . and nobody stays young forever. Uh-oh. Rebecca's got that look in her eye. You know, that "I am going to stay young forever, and I know just how to do it" look. Yup, it's followed up with a meaningful gaze at Angel, who looks back, unconcerned and unsuspecting.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, back at Angel Investigations, Wesley finds Angel looking pensive in his office. He's brought his boss the forensic report from the attack. He there's to report that the bullets were. . . "Blanks" Angel finishes. "No, I'm afraid they were blanks," Wesley replies, then stops to stare at Angel. Angel explains that the shots in the alley never connected with anything. He went back and checked. "Since when does a killer use blanks," Wes asks. "When it's not a killer. It's a fake," Angel explains. Angel doesn't think Rebecca knows, and he doesn't want to tell her. What's worse in this case: being stalked or not being stalked. "Actresses," Wesley sighs. "Tell me about it, Angel agrees.

Speaking of actresses, Rebecca has invited Cordy to for lunch and shopping. Cordy is in heaven. They're walking along an L.A. street, bags in hand, and Cordy is acting silly. Rebecca is playing the gal-pal thing to the hilt, buttering Cordy up, complimenting her, encouraging her. Cordy's eating it up. Every time Rebecca speaks, Cordy squeaks or squeals or gushes. "You must have had a ton of friends you could have asked," she says. "Yes," Rebecca replies, "but none of them would know what to buy a 200-year-old vampire as a thank-you gift." Cordy can sympathize. "He is impossible to buy for. What on earth does he need, more socks?" Finally, Rebecca has gotten to the point, asking Cordy, "So, what's his story anyway. How did he become what he is?" Cordy wants to know if she's got 8 hours. Rebecca replies that she's got all day. Cordy squeal again. Then promises not to do it again.

That night, Angel is getting ready to leave his apartment when he runs into Rebecca on the stairs. He was just going to see her. She says there was no one upstairs so she just came down. So he awkwardly invites her in. She wanders about the place, telling him she went shopping with Cordy for a gift, but couldn't decide what to get the guy who's seen everything. So. . . she brought champagne. "You can. . . ." she starts to ask, and he confirms that he can drink other liquids. Pleased, she sends him off for glasses and a bottle opener, while she looks around (taking note of his artifacts and the bed. . . ). Angel cracks that there is no coffin. Rebecca, who has placed herself seductively on the sofa, says she wasn't even looking for one.

Angel starts to break the news about the stalker, but she lets on that she already knows. She explains what happened and tells Angel she didn't get the part. Angel's sorry. Rebecca just looks at him. So he pours the champagne and sits uncomfortably on the arm of the couch. This is unacceptable to Rebecca, so she plays coy and asks if he's ever done that thing where you sip champagne with your arms hooked around each other. Angel, of course, falls for it. He moves closer, they lock arms, they sip, and then Rebecca starts to laugh and -- oops! -- she spills champagne all over his shirt. Angel laughs, too. He smiles. His eyes to that crinkly thing. I haven't seen him smile like that since the first Halloween episode of Buffy. *sigh*

Rebecca apologizes. Angel tells her it's okay. The poor trusting doof goes into the other room to change his shirt, and, of course, Rebecca pulls out a white powder and adds it to his drink, topping it off and everything. She hands him the drink and he sits down next to her. "A toast," she says, "To the end of an ending, and the beginning of a beginning." Angel can't think of anything to say to that (could you?), so he drinks.

At her apartment, Cordy is pacing nervously when a knock comes at her door. She rushes to open it and admit Wesley, who's come in answer to her "pages." She thinks she's done something terrible. "I went shopping with Rebecca," she starts. That's bad? Wesley asks. No, that was wonderful, Cordy admits. . . going off on a tangent about how Rebecca gets stores closed off for her and how amazing lunch was. But she digresses. She tells Wesley that Rebecca was asking lots of questions about Angel. "What sorts of questions," Wesley wants to know. "Oh you know. Where does Angel hail from. What's his favorite color. What kind of aftershave he wears. The exact specific details on how someone can make themselves into a vampire. . . " Wesley is alarmed. "You don't think . . ." "What? That she'd try to maneuver Angel into an exchange of bodily fluids in order to make herself eternally young and beautiful thus saving her failing career? Gee, now that you mention it. . . ."

Back at Angel's apartment, Rebecca is well into just that plan. Angel, meanwhile, is feeling no pain. He's quite relaxed actually. And he's babbling on about how he hurt a lot of people a long time ago. Rebecca, who's met a total of one vampire in her life (and the only with a soul at that), doesn't believe him. Nope, he tells her. It's true. He was bad. And that's why he helps people now -- to atone. Rebecca says that Cordy told her he saved the world. "A couple times, I helped. . . But I almost had it sucked into hell once, too." This last part, he says almost with a certain fondness for the memory. "Don't you think after all this time you deserve some happiness," Rebecca asks, as she fondles the collar of his shirt. Angel laughs slightly, "probably not a good idea." Rebecca continues to massage his chest and brush her fingers on his neck. He's really relaxing now. "Oh, you smell so good," he tells her, gazing into her eyes, "so warm. I miss that." Rebecca tells him he doesn't have to. He can have what he's been craving for so long. They both can. Forever. Angel finally realizes something's up. He pulls away. Rebecca offers him her neck and tells him to do it so that they won't have to be lonely ever again.

Angel resists. "You don't know what it is you're asking me to do." That's true, she doesn't. "I'm not a fool," she insists. Right. She knows there's a price. Sure she does. Angel's never had a chance to explain the pesky soul thing. Angel gets up and runs away. Rebecca tries to tell him that she's not scared -- she looked into the mirror and saw what he was and she didn't run, she understood. Angel tries to explain that she looked into the mirror "and all you saw was yourself," Angel sneers. "That's all you ever see, Rebecca, and that's what really frightens you." This isn't about how others see her, he tells her. It's about how she sees herself. "Your own reflection has been corrupted into something unrecognizable." She only wants to make the pain disappear.

"You're supposed to help people," she says, her eyes tearing up. "Help me."

"You want me to help you?"Angel asks. "Fine." He grabs her violently by the arm and drags her to the kitchen to give her a taste of what she's asking for. He reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a bag of blood. He shoves in her mouth and squeezes. Blood pours out, into her mouth, down her chin and all over her dress. She gags in disgust as Angel pulls back, shocked not just by what he's done, but also by what it's done to him. His hunger awakened, he drops the blood and gasps, "What did you do to me?" Rebecca tells him nothing, but he looks to the champagne glass. "You put something in my drink." She tells him she just wanted him to relax, to lower his defenses. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her close, asking her what it was. "Just a little happy pill," she sobs, as he rests his head on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she cries. "Everybody's so sorry," Angel mutters sarcastically into her shoulder, still not looking up. "I just wanted us both to be happy," she tells him. "But I am happy," he mutters. "You are?" she asks. "Yes," he replies -- then takes a little nip out of her neck before pushing back. He's vamped out and wearing an entirely too familiar grin on his face. "Perfectly happy," he smiles.

Oh dear.

~*~*~*~

So. Angelus is back. This is great. Angelus grins at Rebecca. She's confused. "Angel?" she asks. Angelus mocks her, "What's the matter, you look a little nervous." Rebecca's still confused. "I'm free!" he tells her. He walks to the living room and sucks the last of the drugged champagne out of the glass before throwing it up against one of the beams. "God, I love this stuff!" Rebecca is pretty much a wreck by this point. "Remind me to get the name of your dealer before I kill you." Rebecca doesn't like the sound of that. Angelus continues to ramble, as we all remember Angelus is wont to do. "In all my years, I never killed a famous person before. But with no witnesses, hey, who's going to believe me? Maybe we could take a picture. I know! We'll do it like we did back in the day. I'll keep your head on a stick as proof." Rebecca, still in shock, continues to pretty much parrot his words back at him, but she finally manages to say, "You're just trying to scare me." "Is it workin'?" he asks, before grabbing her with a growl and throwing her across the room.

"You're crazy," she tells him. "No. I'm a vampire!" he reminds her, doing a little jig. At this point, I'm sure he's putting on an act to scare her. I think. He laughs and tells her she could stand to loose a few pounds and he'd be happy to help her with that. Rebecca creeps away from him along the floor away, still confused. "This isn't you," she insists. "They always mistake me for the character I play. They never see the real me!"

"I just wanted to. . . " she starts, "Be like me?" He asks. He can't blame her. He's one "happy guy!" She tries to run, but he cuts her off. "Tell you what. I'll torture ya for a few unbelievably long hours, and you can tell me if this is the lifestyle for you." Okay, he's faking it. Right? Right?.

She tries to get past him up the stairs, but he catches up to her and throws her to the ground. She rubs her head and pulls herself up, her back to his desk. Okay. He's not joking. Yikes.

"Whatever you're going to do," she tells him, "Do it. I'm not running anymore." That's more like he thinks, as he moves in closer -- close enough for her to bash him across the head with a large candlestick. "Now that I respect!" he yells before she hits him again. He falls to the ground, buying her enough time to head for the elevator. He catches up just as she slams the door. He watches as she rises out of reach, heading for the office above.

The elevator goes too high, so she's climbing down from it when someone grabs her from behind. It's Wesley. Thank god. He helps her down. And she tells him and Cordy that Angel tried to kill her. Cordy calls her a slut. "You did it with him, didn't you?" Rebecca doesn't know what she's talking about. "I didn't do anything." Wesley disagrees. "With respect, Miss Lowell, you must have done something." She tells them she gave him something to loosen him up. It worked. Wesley asks what it was. Rebecca tells him it was doxymal. Wesley is stunned. It's a "powerful tranquilizer. It induces bliss."

"Bliss?!" Cordy cries. "As in bliss? Sheer contentment? Perfect happiness?" This is bad.

"It's synthetic. Not true happiness," Wesley insists. "This is really good stuff," Rebecca tells him. But Wesley is adamant. "He hasn't really turned. It's an illusion. Not real."

"He bit me," Rebecca tells them. Wesley decides that maybe they should leave the premises until the effect wear off. Cordy wants to know if he's sure they will. "Reasonably sure," he replies. . . when the power cuts out. They realize this means he's outside.

"Looks like someone forgot to pay the power bill," Angelus calls as we see him saunter into the outer office. Man, his manner, his tone -- all eerily reminiscent of Innocence. "Cordelia, " he says, causing her to whimper and back away. She remembers, too. Wesley pushes them back. "I'd lay odds that the phone's dead, too," Angelus replies.

"Angel," Wesley says firmly. "I want you to listen to me. What you're experiencing is not genuine. You've been fed a drug. It's simulating bliss. All you that you're feeling is just a chemical suggestion." Angel has been walking steadily closer. "Angel?" Wesley calls as the vampire walks into the room and a ray of moonlight catches his face. "Name's Angelus."

Wesley tries to warn him that he'll resort to "drastic measures" unless Angel listens to reason. "You're warning me?" Angel scoffs. "What happen, Wes? You suddenly grow a pair?" He goes on to take digs at Wesley's inferiority complex, telling him he doesn't have a complex -- he's just inferior. He grabs Wesley and throws him against the wall, where Wesley falls unconscious. Cordelia cries out, then quickly catches herself as she's next on Angel's hit list. She gulps and steps back, clearly shaken. She's stutters, and Angel mocks her. "Line! Of course! A time . . will come... when Torvald... is not as ... devoted... to me!" His delivery is actually worse than hers. "You were really, let me tell you, bad." Cordy tells him to stop. "Why?" he asks. "You didn't. I mean I've been to hell, but that was just so much worse." He turns to Rebecca, who's been inching along the wall, to tell her how much people were crying from laughing. He's really hitting low this time, and Cordy's had it. She grabs a water bottle from the shelf, pulls off the lid and holds it out.

"Back off!" she tells him. He's amused. "You think this is just water?" He thinks she's bluffing. "Am I? You don't think I wasn't ready for this, do you? That I hadn't prepared for it? Why do you think I have a stake stashed in my desk? A cross in my bag? I think about this happening every single day."

"That's just drinking water," Angel replies, although he's leaning ever so slightly away from her.

"Fresh from a mountain spring," Cordy answers, "delivered right to our door, then blessed every second Tuesday by Father Mackie, the local parish priest, while you're down in the bat cave sleeping through the better part of the day. Don't believe me?" She throws the water at him, drenching his face. Angel screams and grabs his face. . . Then realizes it was just water. He glares at Cordy, who holds up the empty bottle like an award, "And the Oscar goes to. . . " Before Angel can react, Wesley yells and rushes from his place on the floor, grabbing Angel and throwing him at the elevator shaft. Angel hits his head on the bottom of the elevator car then falls to ground below, out cold.

~*~

When Angel wakes up, he's lying on his bed. . . in chains. Lots and lots of chain. The phrase "better safe than sorry" comes to mind. As does frustration that this is the second time they've chained Angel to his bed and he still has his clothes on. Dangit.

Cordy and Wesley are sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting. "Are you still evil?" Cordy asks. "I'm so sorry," Angel begins. "Can I get another reading on that line, please?" Cordy glares. He starts to ask about Rebecca, but Cordy tells him she's gone. And she won't be back. The trying to murder her thing seems to have scared her off.

Angel starts again to apologize to them both. "There's really no need," says Wesley. Cordy doesn't agree. But Wesley persists. "It was the drugs. Couldn't be helped. Things were said, true. But I think it best if we simply put it behind us. Move on." Wesley gets up to leave, giving Angel one last hard look. "You walk a fine line, Angel. I don't envy you." He starts to leave but Angel calls him back. " Nice moves up there," he tells him. Wesley smiles a bit sheepishly, touched. Then leaves.

"Cordelia. . ." Angel starts, but she cuts him off. "Okay, here's something I *never* thought I would say to you: Wesley's right. Forget about it." Angel starts to cover, "But I really didn't mean . . ." Cordy's not buying it. "Mmmm, yes you did. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to weasel out of it." She takes him to task. "Angelus may not be the most relaxing company, but at least he's honest! Shouldn't I expect the same from the non-evil version of my friends?"

"So we're okay then?" He asks. "I'm too big of a person to let something so petty get in the way of our friendship." Angel is thankful. They exchange some awkward half-smiles. Then Angel realizes, "You're not going to untie me, are you?"

Mary Beth's Review

COMING SOON!

SunSpeak

"I think I liked Angel more, last night, though. Not sure why. God knows all the trauma of Angelus came rushing back real fast as soon as he started dissing Rebecca. Oo yeah. I remember why I hate this guy. Psycho killer who has to humiliate and scare the hell out of the prey before he slurps. Right. I almost thought it was an act... but it only took a few seconds to be sure it wasn't. Ooo, boy. Mental note: do not tranq happy fun vampire." -- Kiki

"I bet Cordelia *is* packing Holy Water from now on." --Kiki

"OK, first thing: I did like this episode. A lot. It was fun to see the manager from the pilot again, it was fun that he actually got a character this time rather than being stereotypical LA manager guy, I have NO objections to Angel in that suit, the guest star managed to stay just this side of non-cliched, and every time she started slipping over that line, she caught herself.
But nothing's going to fix the fact that they had a great idea for a fourth act, and then had to write three acts to get there. Not that it's a *bad* thing. The first three acts were fun and well-written (barring Cordy, which I'll get to). But it's what I consider workhorse fic, the kind of thing where you write a situation for the sole purpose of getting to the desired end. Somehow, the pacing of the whole episode was off (I might go back and check to see... it was definately one of the shortest teasers I've *ever* seen, but I can't remember if the other acts seemed short, too).
So, then, I'd consider this episode a solid, well-written, not-terribly-extrodinary first three acts, with a wham-bang payoff that had me mewling and whimpering and clutching things. (And *THANK YOU* whoever had him identify himself as Angelus rather than Angel!!!) And there is a subtle difference between Angelus and Angel-playing-Angelus, as in Enemies last year. Angel does a good job playing Angelus, but the body language, the word choice, and, yes, the humor, are very distinct. < meep > < meep >" -- Lizbet

"re: Angelus' little spin in the drivers' seat: I see that ~meep~ and raise you a yeeeeeEEEEeeeeEEEEee! *buries head in pillow*" --Val

"OK, I basically wanted to smack Cordelia every time she opened her mouth until the end, when she whip-lash reverted to Mature Cordy. Yes, we get that you worship this star. Get over it. Please. Now. The guest star (whose name I'm not going to insult by trying to spell) had a lousy job with a character who could easily become cliched (aging actress who wants to be eternally young). But from the moment that Angel tries to force-feed her blood until the end, she was wonderful. I was cheering her on (when I wasn't hiding behind Dianne and whimpering)." -- Lizbet

"OK, so now we know three ways to get Angelus to come out: Perfect Happiness, Weird Blue Bedouin Dudes, and Happy Pills. This is beginning to sound like The Gremlins: Don't let vampires with souls eat after midnight, come in contact with water, or be exposed to the light (well, that one was a duh.) *g*" --Lizbet

"The guest star (whose name I'm not going to insult by trying to spell) had a lousy job with a character who could easily become cliched"
"Tamara Gorski. And not to mention being a walking in-joke, (a) because she played the chick who tried to get Nick to bring her across on the Titanic; and (b) because her character had become a star playing someone named Raven, a bird that just happens to be sacred to Morrigan, whom Tamara played several times on Herc. I love her to bits, but I kept getting giggles from all of that!" --Lizbet and Val