by Betsy Hanes Perry and Dana D.
(dedicated to Mark Hellish)
[Fast forward to Season 3. Faith, dressed in clothes which are both garish
and tight, saunters into the set of the Mayor's Office. The Mayor, busy
eating homemade oatmeal raisin cookies and sacrificing a goat, wipes the
milk mustache off his face and looks at her expectantly.]
MAYOR: Well?
FAITH: I hear that you might have an opening.
MAYOR: Yes.
FAITH: Now that I've killed your right-hand man.
MAYOR: That's
true.
FAITH: I know I'm evil, so I'm hoping that
I might fit in
here.
MAYOR: Well, aren't you a dear?
Here's my evil plan...
[The spotlight swivels to the other side of the stage to show the Scooby
Gang in typical Library pow-wow mode.]
WILLOW: I knew it!
WESLEY: I'm telling the Watchers.
WILLOW: I
told you!
BUFFY: At least now we know.
WILLOW: That slut-bomb!
GILES: I wish we had caught her.
COREDLIA: The skanky bitch!
BUFFY: Right. Don't trust that 'ho.
WILLOW: [confused] A ho?
GILES: Oho!
WILLOW: [gets it] Oh, 'ho!
GILES: Oh. No.
ALL: A traitor on the Hellmouth.
XANDER: How surprising.
GILES: But she's still a huge threat.
A traitor on the Hellmouth
is
alarming--
WESLEY: I'm upset.
WILLOW: A traitor on the
Hellmouth.
WESLEY: Where's the handbook?
I'm in need of a clue.
XANDER: A traitor on the Hellmouth.
CORDELIA: How's my hair
look?
GILES: We're all doomed.
BUFFY: But with graduation
coming
We had better be prepared
Though the situation's numbing
WESLEY: But--
BUFFY: I'll go find Angel.
WESLEY: Please help me,
I'm scared
Of a traitor on the Hellmouth
GILES: This is
dreadful!
WILLOW: And exams are next week.
ALL: A traitor on the
Hellmouth.
WESLEY: And just think of the havoc she'll wreak!
Eeek!
[The spotlight swivels back to the other side of the stage. Faith
prances in, dressed in an even more Goth outfit ('cause she's evil, get
it?), carrying a small box which rattles alarmingly.]
FAITH: Here, boss, the Box of Gavrock.<br> MAYOR: Gee, you're one heck of
a girl.
Now I'll proceed with my plan to
Conquer and eat this mortal
world!
[Back to the other side of the stage. The spotlight operator is heard
muttering curses somewhere up above the audience's heads. We're now in the
school cafeteria, where Buffy, Angel, Giles, Xander, and Oz stand arrayed
against the forces of Darkness...Mayor Wilkins, Faith, and a captive
Willow.]
BUFFY: I've got the box now, loser...
Hey, that's my best pal!
I
will not let you abuse her.
MAYOR: Then, missy, you'd better choose
her.
The world or the gal?
The box or the witch?
OZ: Hey, give
her back, you son of a bitch!
ALL: A standoff on the Hellmouth
MAYOR: Oh, how charming!
XANDER: Give us our Willow back.
MAYOR: A
standoff on the Hellmouth
BUFFY: Set her loose or we'll attack.
MAYOR: Well, it isn't quite that easy.
There are spiders in that box
And I need them to ascend, see?
It appears we are stymied; it's quite
the deadlock.
But this standoff on the Hellmouth,
Though
delightful
Is beginning to bore.
So exchange the box for Willow.
And avoid the Third World War.
(spoken) And you know, this little fling you and the vampire are having
will never work out. Take it from a man who knows about the dark forces.
[Suddenly a mob of all the contract players comes onto
stage, looking upset
and dressed for a fight -- pitchforks, flamethrowers,
crossbows, just
another typical Tuesday in Sunnydale. Mayor Wilkins runs offstage and is
replaced by a giant rubber snake looming in the background. Everyone bursts
into song.]
ALL: Three seasons on the Hellmouth
Fighting evil, and it's come down
to this.
Ascension on the Hellmouth
And the Mayor's snaky bliss.
Three seasons on the Hellmouth
Staking vampires
Watching students
get slain.
Three seasons on the Hellmouth
With the laughter
And
the pain.
With the drama and the fighting
And the fashion and the
quips,
Though the acting and the writing
Will be called into
question by Season Four scripts.
'Cause next season, on the
Hellmouth
Will be shocking, in so many new ways.
Next season on the
Hellmouth if...
[Everything screeches to a halt. Angel, clad in his
favorite billowy King of Pain coat, strides to center
stage. Somewhere in the distance, mournful church
bells begin to toll.]
ANGEL: Miss Summers, I must leave you,
It's for your own good.
When I said 'love eternal',
You misunderstood.
Please trust me, as
the older,
To know the best way
I'll seek my redemption in L.A.!
(spoken)
Cordelia: Ooh, L.A.? I love L.A. Can I come?
Wesley: I want to come, too! I can be a rogue demon hunter!
[ANGEL, horrified, melts back into the mob and avoids
making eye contact
with either of the future Angelettes for the remainder
of the Finale.]
SPIKE: Next season on the Hellmouth,
I'm returning, with a chip in
me nog!
RILEY: Next season on the Hellmouth,
I'll kiss Buffy!
BUFFY: Oh, my God!
WILLOW: Next season on the Hellmouth,
I'll turn
Wiccan,
And perhaps a bit gay,
OZ: Next season, on the Hellmouth
I'll be moving
Far away.
GILES: I've discovered from my reading
That the Mayor soon will rise,
ANYA: It's real yucky when he's
feeding
So I'm thinking that leaving would be well-advised
Cause a
season on the Hellmouth
HARMONY: Can be fatal!
And it's bad for the
hair.
ALL: Next season on the Hellmouth
If...
We manage to blow
up the
Manage to blow up the
Manage to blow up the
Mayor!
[Because the budget remaining for this sequence is
nil, a scrim reading
"BOOM!" is lowered from the flies. Under cover of
backlighting, the cast
scuttles off to their hiatus jobs. ]
[And the authors duck for cover.]
Back to Part 1
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