ACT THREE
INT. COFFEE SHOP - NIGHT
The dim lighting of the coffee shop flickers as a few scattered patrons sit at their tables, lost in their own worlds. Outside, the rain taps against the windows, a cold wind sweeping through the streets of Clevend.
GRACIE and HUGO sit at a small table in the back corner, their heads low, whispering as they gnce around nervously. Hugo, fidgeting, looks worried, while Gracie seems more composed but still on edge.
NOVA (early 20s, determined, sharp) enters, scanning the room. She spots them immediately and makes her way over, her expression unreadable, her eyes hard with suspicion. She stands over their table, arms crossed, before either of them can speak.
NOVA
(quietly)
You’ve been following me.
Gracie and Hugo both freeze for a moment, caught off guard, then they look up at her.
GRACIE
(slowly, trying to py it cool)
Following? No, we were just...
(looks to Hugo for backup)
HUGO
(nervously)
We weren’t spying, it’s just—uh, we needed to know what you knew about the... well, the stuff happening in Clevend.
Nova doesn’t buy it. Her sharp gaze doesn’t leave them as she sits down across from them, her movements deliberate.
NOVA
(ftly)
You’ve been tailing me for days, getting close, poking around my past. You think I don’t notice?
GRACIE
(softly, meeting her eyes)
We didn’t mean to cause trouble. We’re just...
trying to understand what’s going on. Why things are... different.
(beat)
You know something we don’t.
Nova leans in, her tone colder now, but there's a subtle softness underneath, like she's trying to make them understand.
NOVA
(darkly)
You’re not the only ones with questions. There are things happening here—things that don’t make sense. But you’re poking into things that you don’t understand. You don't want to know the truth.
HUGO
(skeptical)
Then tell us. If we’re so out of the loop, what’s the truth?
Nova’s expression hardens, and she leans back in her chair. She looks at Gracie for a long beat before speaking.
NOVA
(quietly, but serious)
The truth is, none of you are safe. Not from the demons, and not from the people who think they can control them.
Gracie leans forward, her brow furrowed in confusion.
GRACIE
(softly)
What do you mean?
Nova's eyes flicker briefly with something like regret. She looks down at the table, taking a moment before speaking again.
NOVA
I’m not who you think I am. I’m not just some girl with a few extra abilities.
She leans in, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
NOVA
I’m the Syer.
Gracie and Hugo blink, taken aback by the sudden revetion. There’s a tense silence as they process the weight of her words.
HUGO
(trying to make sense of it)
Wait, you’re—? But you’re... not like Buffy, right?
Nova shakes her head, looking pained.
NOVA
No. Not like her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The spell that called the Syers—the one that started after Sunnydale, it was supposed to have a limit. To stop with a single chosen one. But... it didn’t.
(beat)
Now, there’s a mess. And I’m part of it.
Gracie exchanges a gnce with Hugo, their suspicion shifting to something more profound—a mix of fear and understanding.
GRACIE
(still processing)
But why... why are you hiding it?
Nova exhales sharply, eyes flickering to the side before meeting their gazes again.
NOVA
Because I’m not the only one. There are others. People who shouldn’t have been called. It’s fractured—broken. And I can’t expin all of it, but... I’ve been trying to stop whatever’s making it worse.
HUGO
(quietly, trying to piece things together)
So, there are... more like you? More Syers?
NOVA
(somber)
Yes. But it's not as simple as that. Some of us aren’t the ‘chosen ones.’ Some of us were never meant to have this power.
And it’s tearing us apart. We’ve got people hunting us. We’re not safe. None of us are.
Gracie’s gaze sharpens, something deep and fierce stirring within her. She doesn’t back down.
GRACIE
So what are you going to do about it?
Nova exhales slowly, meeting her eyes. She looks like she’s weighing her words carefully.
NOVA
(serious)
I don’t know yet. But I’m trying to stop whoever’s messing with the Syer line. I don’t want to see anyone else suffer. If you want to help, stay out of my way. Or get involved. But understand this—there’s no turning back once you do.
Gracie and Hugo exchange a gnce, neither of them backing down. The tension between them and Nova is palpable, but so is the unspoken understanding. This is bigger than any of them.
GRACIE
(grimly)
We’re not backing down.
NOVA
(firm, but with a trace of respect)
Good. Because if you’re really in this... you better be ready for the truth.
Gracie’s eyes harden as she meets Nova’s gaze. She nods, a quiet understanding forming between them. Hugo looks a little more hesitant but follows Gracie’s lead.
HUGO
(quietly)
So, what’s next?
NOVA
The truth is, we're all connected by this.
And if we don’t stop whoever’s pulling the strings, we won’t be the only ones who pay the price.
The three of them sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their new alliance settling between them, even if none of them fully understands what’s coming next.
INT. NOVA'S HOME - NIGHT
NOVA
(gets home)
YUSUF
Where have you been?
NOVA
With friends?
YUSUF
(looks into her eyes)
NOVA
I was...
(honest)
YUSUF
(nods)
have you eaten?
NOVA
yeah, tacos.
YUSUF
ok, I'm sorry, just, I'm always worried, you're so distant.
NOVA
dad, I'm fine.
YUSUF
(nods)
NOVA
(walks upstairs)
YUSUF
Nova...
NOVA
(turns)
yeah?
YUSUF
I'm gd you're making friends, its what your mum would have wanted.
NOVA
(slight smile)
thanks, means a lot...
INT. CLEVELAND STREET – NIGHT
The rain has slowed to a misty drizzle. A streetlight flickers as a lone figure in a hoodie walks down the sidewalk — Cleo, face bruised and shaken. She's breathing heavily, clutching something close to her chest — a small, enchanted totem, pulsing with faint purple light.
From the shadows behind her, something watches. We don't see it clearly — just a shape that seems... wrong. Unnatural.
CLEO
(under her breath)
Come on, just get back to the safehouse...
She turns a corner — and freezes.
In front of her stands a tall woman in a sleek bck suit. Pale. Eyes like razors. THE WOMAN IN BLACK — not demonic in appearance, but wrong in the way a dream turns into a nightmare.
WOMAN IN BLACK
You’re far from where you should be, little spark.
CLEO
(defiant, clutching the totem)
Back off.
The woman smiles, head tilting.
WOMAN IN BLACK
We’re watching the cracks. And the ones who fall through.
Before Cleo can react, the woman vanishes. The rain starts again.
INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
The room is dimly lit. A first-aid kit lies open on the bed, gauze and alcohol wipes scattered like old memories. The buzz of a flickering ceiling light hums above.
BUFFY stands by the window, arms crossed, staring out into the Clevend night. Rain still streaks down the gss.
WILLOW enters from the bathroom, her sleeves rolled up, a faint magical burn healing slowly on her arm.
WILLOW
(grimacing)
So, uh… demon mucus? Still not my favorite exfoliant.
BUFFY
(deadpan)
Really? You smell amazing. Like sulfur and trauma.
Willow chuckles, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Buffy doesn’t turn around yet. She’s quiet — too quiet.
WILLOW
(softly)
You okay?
Buffy finally turns, leaning against the windowsill.
BUFFY
No.
(beat)
Yes?
(beat)
I don’t know, Will. It used to feel simple. Monster. Fight. Save the day. Go home. Lately… it’s like the rules changed and no one sent me the memo.
Willow nods, understanding.
WILLOW
I felt it too. The magic. It's… off. Fuzzy, like a signal trying to come through the wrong channel.
BUFFY
Nova handled herself out there. She was brutal — efficient. I saw myself in her. Not now-me, not Syer Emeritus me… but me-me.
The girl who stopped the world a few times. And I hated it.
(beat)
Not because she’s better. Because she’s alone.
Willow looks up, her voice quieter now.
WILLOW
Like we were.
Buffy nods slowly.
BUFFY
There’s something broken in all this. The Syer line, the calling, whatever mojo you pulled in 2003 — it’s cracking. And it’s taking girls with it. Nova’s caught in the middle of something we don’t understand.
WILLOW
We can fix it. We always fix it.
BUFFY
Do we? Or do we just tape it together with hope and sarcasm and pray it doesn’t fall apart again?
Willow gets up, walks over, and gently touches Buffy’s arm.
WILLOW
You still care. That’s why this hurts. That’s why you’re still in the fight, even when you pretend you’re not.
Buffy exhales slowly, finally looking at her.
BUFFY
I’m tired, Will. Of saving the world and losing people anyway. Of being the girl with the stake and the destiny.
(beat)
But I saw Nova out there, and I saw me. And I can’t let her go through this alone.
Willow gives her a sad, fond smile.
WILLOW
Good. Because I don’t think any of us get to walk away from this one.
BUFFY
Then we stay. We figure this out. For Nova. For the others.
They sit together on the edge of the bed, silent for a moment. Rain continues outside. The war is still coming — but for now, they have each other.
WILLOW
(half-grinning)
Want to do a locator spell and pizza? For old times’ sake?
BUFFY
Only if you promise not to turn the cheese into sentient va again.
WILLOW
That happened one time.
BUFFY
You say that like it makes it better.
INT. HOTEL HALLWAY – NIGHT
Buffy steps out of the motel room for a moment. She leans against the hallway wall, staring at nothing. Her face is unreadable, caught between exhaustion and old wounds.
Behind her, the door creaks slightly — Willow peeks out but stays inside, giving Buffy space.
Buffy reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, battered photograph. It's folded at the edges. We don’t see it fully — just glimpses. A group photo: Buffy, Willow, Xander, Dawn, maybe Giles. All younger. Smiling.
She traces a finger along one of the faces.
BUFFY
(softly)
I hope I’m not screwing this up.
A voice from the shadows behind her:
ANGEL (O.S.)
You never do.
She spins around.
BUFFY
(turning, eyes widening)
Angel…
MAN (O.S.)
(ughs)
BUFFY
(turns to the ughter)
Angel...
we see ANGEL 55 Years old.
WILLOW
...oh my god...
ANGEL
Hi Buffy...
END CREDITS
