All language subtitles for Angel.S05E04.Hell.Bound.720p.HULU.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-FFG_track3_[eng]

Oh! Good night.

Good night.

- How long did you
know I was there?

Oh. Just since the lobby.

But that popping up
behind me was
really scary. Look.

I dropped my papers.
Nice touch.

- Thanks.
- I'd give you a hand
with that, but, uh--

Oh. Still no interaction.

Not a twinge.
Can't spirit
the knickknacks about.

Can't willie the locals.
Bloody sad ghost I turned out.

I've told you before.
You're not a ghost.

Chipper!
Give us a hug.

You know what I mean.
You're more than a common
spectral disturbance.

I've never seen
anything like you.

Bet you say that
to all the spirits.

Oh. Your radiant heat
signature's dropped
another .02 degrees.

Thought it was a bit nippy.

Is, uh, everything--
Are you--

Feeling the tug
of eternal damnation?

Maybe that's why
I can't touch anything.

- Using all my mentalies just to
keep from slipping into hell.
- I won't let that happen.

I've been working on a theory.
Well, more of a hunch, actually.

- But I think I'm getting close.
- To making me a real boy again?

As real as a vampire
with a soul can be.

- It won't be like Angel's
thing with the prophecy, but--
- What prophecy?

The "Shan-shoe-ha"
something or another.

It says that if Angel
helps enough people,
he gets to be human again.

Oh. Really?

Goody for him.

Ahh!
That totally makes sense!
What does?

The fluctuations
in your readings.

A lack of particle cohesion.

I-It's almost as if
your essence is straddling
a dimensional void.

Which may be the key,
assuming that the amulet
you used to save the world...

is some sort of
trans-reality amplifier...

capable of focusing
massive quantities
of mystical energy.

And what in the King's English
does that mean to the dearly
almost departed?

It means that if I can defy
most of the laws of nature,

there's a good chance I'll be
able to anchor you to this plane
and make you corporeal.

Well, might be a hug
in your future after all.

Spike?

Brilliant.

Don't mean to
interrupt the sitting
in a dark basement, mate,

but could you point
the quickest way
back to the lab?

As the ghost flies, I--

I'll take that
as a "No" then.

Bubbe, I negotiated that deal
with my own two horns.

Second billing,
right after Gwyneth. Yeah.

No, no, stop crying.
Stop crying.

It's okay you put on
a couple of pounds
since casting.

Yeah, they can't just--
No, no, no.
Just put the pills down.

I'll straighten this out.
If I can't, I'll take
a handful myself.

I need these
as soon as possible.

"Hello, Wesley.
Nice to see you."

Oh, sorry.
Little preoccupied.

"The Magdalene Grimoire,
Necronomicon des Mortes,

Hochstadter's Treatise
on Fractal Geometry
in 12-dimensional Space--"

"Preoccupied" might not be
the word we're looking for.

How fast can I get 'em?

Half of these are antiquities
of the rarest order.

If I exploit every connection
I've made over the last month...

as the new head of
Research and Intelligence--

20 minutes.

Great. Let me know
when they're in.

Under one condition.

Dinner.

Oh, I, uh--
I mean you having one.
A real one.

When's the last time
you had anything besides
day-old takeout?

Or had more than a nap
up in your lab?

I'm okay, really.
Twenty minutes? Thanks.

And don't worry.
I am totally, completely--

Hey. Got a sec?

Um...

I know how difficult
it's been going from
a small detective agency...

to running, uh,
Wolfram and Hart.

And-And we've all
been adjusting, but--
It's okay.

Wes just gave me the talk.
And I'm going to have
a good meal...

and at least six hours
of sleep, so everybody can
just stop worrying.

I'm fine. Really.

Good. That's--

Actually, there's some
concern about how much...

the Practical Science
Department's been spending.

Oh. Um, yeah.

I guess I may have gone over
my projections by a few--

$800,000.

That's how much you've
exceeded your quarterly budget.

And the quarter
ain't over yet, sweetie.

Look, I-I know it sounds like--
I mean, it is a lot of money,

but I-I'm trying to do something
that's never been done before.

So, yeah, attempting
to recorporealize Spike
is gonna cost--

Whoa.
Trying to do what?

Make Spike corporeal again,
like you asked.

Uh, no. What I asked for was for
you to try to find a way to get
Spike out of Wolfram and Hart.

Angel, we accepted the offer
to take over the L.A. branch...

of an evil, multidimensional
law firm because we thought
we could make a difference.

Use the resources
of Wolfram and Hart
to do something decent.

And how's that have
anything to do with Spike?

He just saved the world.
Vampire with a soul fighting
for the good of humanity.

Ring anything?
He's just like you-- a champion.

God, I really hate that word.

Think of what an asset
he'd be fighting on our side.
Except he won't be.

I know Spike better than anyone,
and he only cares about himself.

- And Buffy.
- Well, this is
getting interesting.

You're right.
He does care about Buffy.

So where do you think he's going
to run off to as soon as his
fresh new feet hit the ground?

Is that what
this is about?

You're afraid he's gonna
come back and try to
get with your ex again?

I just want you to be careful,
Fred, because I know how
charming Spike can be.

He is quite the dish
with those eyes and--

And hair
and the cheeks and--

What do you think I am, stupid?

I know he's been playing me
with the looks and the smiles.

I'm not some
idiot schoolgirl
with a crush.

Then what is it?

It's about doing
what's right. Remember?

Your department, your call.

Just don't be disappointed
if it doesn't work.

Some people can't be saved.

Never a fetching mad scientist
about when you need one.

Whatever you're cobbling
together, pet, think you
better hurry it along.

Done chopping your feelers
off in the basement?

Flown upstairs
for a few chuckles now?

Right. Vampire ghost here,
you sod.

Bloody well invented
afraid of the dark.

Bugger this. I'm not playing
follow-the-blinking-light
for the rest of the--

All right. You lured me here
with the creep show.

Now what?

Please.

Hold me.
Hold me, please.

It's coming.

So, what's on the agenda?

Rousting a nest of
venomous retirement plans?

Shop's closed, Spike.
Come back and haunt me tomorrow.

Yeah, it's too rarified up here
for my taste anyhows.

Down with the dregs is
where I belong, isn't it?

And yet he's still here.

Just thought
we could hang, is all.

Couple of vampires
from the old days...

doin' our hangy thing.

You're starting to feel it,
aren't you?

How close you are now.
To hell.

What if I am?

Not like it's such a big
bleeding deal, is it?

If a ponce like you
could break out--

I never escaped from hell. All I
got was a short reprieve. Not
even sure how I managed that.

Oh, put your martyr away, Mahatma.

Fred told me all about
your great, shining prophecy.

Pile up all your good deeds and
get the big brass ring handed
to you, like everything else.

Except for one small catch.
The prophecy's a bunch of bull.
They all are.

Nothing's written in stone
or fated to happen, Spike.

You save the world,
you end up running
an evil law firm.

Or playing Casper
with one foot in the fryer.

Do you think
any of it matters?

The things we did,

the lives we destroyed--
that's all that's
ever gonna count.

So, yeah, surprise.
You're goin' to hell.

We both are.

Then why even bother?

Try to do the right thing,
make a difference.

What else
are we gonna do?

So that's it then.
I really am going to burn.

Welcome to the club.

Well, least I got company, eh?

You and me, together again.

Hope and Crosby.
Stills and Nash.

- Chico and the Man.
- Yeah. Are we done?

Never much for small talk,
were you?

Always too busy trying to
perfect that brooding
block-of-wood mystique.

- God, I loved that.
- Not as much as I loved
your nonstop yammering.

The way you always had to be
the big swingy, swaggering
around, barking orders.

- Never listening.
- Always interrupting.

And your hair.
What color do they call that?
Radioactive?

Never much
cared for you, Liam.
Even when we were evil.

- Cared for you less.
- Fine.

Good.

There was one thing
about you.
Really?

Yeah, I never
told anybody about this,
but I-I liked your poems.

You like Barry Manilow.

What is it?
Don't you see it?

See what?

Nothing.

Too much talk
of fire and brimstone.

What?

Right now?
Yes. Right now, right here.

Piss off!
I'm trying to have
a conversation here.

Shut up! I don't care--
Who's he talking to?

- Ghosts.
- Where?

Everywhere.
The blighters are coming
out of the woodwork.

No, I am not
talking to you.
Go away!

We just checked
with security.

They do hourly sweeps
with the mystics to secure
against spectral intrusion.

- How many are we dealing with?
- Uh, none. Last sweep
was 10 minutes ago.

Spike's the only noncorporeal
in the building.

It's coming for you.

Check again.

Maybe we should
go back to the lab.

No. I'm telling you they are
here. You have to check again.
Something's happened.

It's here.

Fred, please. You have to use
that perfect brain of yours
and get me the hell--

Spike?

- Where'd he go?
- It's okay.
He does this sometimes.

- Does what?
- W-We should spread out,
see if we can find him.

- We just need to find him.
- Well, what are you
goin' on about?

I haven't gone
anywhere. Fred?

I'm here.
I'm-- I'm still here!

Fred!

She can't help you
now, William.

No one can.

Is this the part
where I say "Who's there?"
and something creepy happens?

Thought so.

Oh, no. Haunted lift.

Take a slice more
to wet my knickers.

Angel does have a point.

Spike has been
unintentionally disapparating
more and more frequently.

Give him 20 minutes,
he'll be popping up next
to you in the bathroom...

making cracks about your--

Am I the only one
he does that to?

Look. Yeah, I know he's
done this before, but you saw
the way he was acting.

Something's
different this time.

He's agitated, hallucinating.

We are dealing with
a unique case here, as
far as manifestations go.

Dementia isn't completely
out of the question.
He's not crazy.

Screaming about people
who aren't there?

That's grounds for involuntary
committal under the Lanterman-
Petris-Short Act, which states--

Oh, sorry. Sometimes the law
they stuffed in my noggin
just clicks on.

You don't know what Spike's
dealing with. Where he goes
when he disappears. He told me.

It's hell.

- He's slipping into hell.
- Kinda figured.

- Of course.
- Where else would he be headed?

Had to be the basement.

- I already played
this one out.
-

Not like another round's
gonna rattle my knobs.

♪ It's gonna get you ♪

What exactly would
"it" be, love?

♪ Reaper's gonna take you ♪

The Reaper?

Tall, grim fellow with a scythe?
Is that what all this
boogie-boogie's been about?

It hurts.

I've been knocking around the
land of the lost for months now,
pretty as you please.

Slipped through
the cracks, did I?

Don't worry, William.

Haven't forgotten you.

Carry the quotient load
across the remainder.

Support the imbalance
with Lumirea's fourth constant.

Think I know what they are,
the things I've been seeing.

They're the welcoming party.

Guess hell
got tired of waiting.
Reaching out for me now.

Sent a boy around
to collect me.
I knew it.

He knows my name.
Knows how to hurt me.

I wanted to thank you, pet.

How you tried to help.

- I wanted to tell you what
that meant to me before I--
- Damn, I'm good.

- You are?
- Freakin' genius!
Just cancel out the radical--

Thought you had me,
didn't you?

Which causes
a feedback wave that
liquefies half of Los Angeles.

What?
Ohh! I'll never
figure this out.

Yes, you will. Genius, remember?
Don't throw in now,
Fred, please.

- Spike?
- That's right, love.

You felt it too,
didn't you? I'm here.
I'm still here. No!

She can feel me.
You're not taking me yet!
You're not taking me!

Spike, if it's you,
give me some sort of--

Would everybody
please stop doing that?

Sorry. I just wanted to
let you know--

Angel, something
was in the lab.

It-It touched me.
I think maybe it was--

Fred, we did another sweep
with the mystics.
They didn't find anything.

Screw the mystics.
I know what I felt.

We have to find a way
to contact him
before he's really gone.

- Perhaps we should
reconsider this.
- You think?

Seen enough horror flicks
to know these things
always turn out ugly.

I stand corrected.

All right, let's get to it.
Eve tells me that you've
lost a ghostie.

Well, he's not actually
a ghost technically.

- More of a--
- Yeah, whatever.

Now, I have Pilates at
the crack of why-am-I-awake,

so we're gonna
move this right along.

I will mutter
a few calming words
to get us into the zone,

and then we'll see if we can
scare up your missing spook.

Okay, clear your minds, which
judging by the looks of you,
won't be that hard.

- Should we hold hands?
- Only if you're lonely.

Now zip it,
and let me do my sweet funky.

I call upon
the Guardian of Souls,
the Keeper of the Passage.

Let our breath flow
from what is to what is past.

Bless us with the presence
of the lost.

Grant us communion with
the world beyond our reach.

Give voice to those
who can no longer be heard.

I beseech you--
open your gates,
reveal your secrets.

I sense a presence.

Damn right you do.
Very close.

Skip the claptrap and tell 'em
to get me out of here.

- So much pain.
- He's in pain?

The dark soul.
So much suffering.

Dark, pain, suffering.
They've got it.
Now, tell them to help me.

It's coming.
It's coming.

- I'm already here.
What are you goin' on about?
- Oh, God, I can feel it.

The dark soul.
It's here.

It's-- It's the--

The Reaper!
The bloody freakin' Reaper!
Go on, tell 'em.

- It's the--

What's happening?

- Spike, stop it.
- It's not me, you git.

- Let her go.

A-Are you all right?

Okay, what the hell
was that?

I know they used to call Spike
William the Bloody, but why
would he go all scanners on her?

He wouldn't.
No advantage in it to kill
someone trying to help him.

You saying it was
an accident?

Or whatever she contacted wasn't
the dark soul we were expecting.

So if she wasn't
talking about Spike--

Then there's something else
here at Wolfram and Hart.

Something else
a hell of a lot worse.

Why did it kill her?

Reaper's supposed to
take souls, not make 'em.

If it's come for me,
couldn't have been worried
she was gonna help.

She didn't even
know I was there.

Unless it wasn't about me.

Fred, I think I know why
it killed her.

It was trying to hide something.
Something it didn't want you
to know because--

Come on.
Just reach out.

Come on, then.
No more games.

No more hiding
in the shadows.

Let's do this,
right and proper.

A lawyer?

William.

- Please.
- No.

- It hurts.
- No!

I'm not talking to
flunkies anymore!
You hear that?

Got your number, don't I?
You're sending in third-rates
to rattle my chains.

You're just some little twit
of a spirit trying to have
a go at me, aren't you?

Big, bad Reaper
come to take me to hell.
Not bloody likely.

Oh, yes, take you screaming.

An eternity of suffering
for your sins.

But first,
I get to play.

Let's get started then,

shall we?

Got it.
The dark soul.

What's it say?
A lot.

There are over 3,200
different references.

- Four of 'em are about you.
- What? Give me that.

- This is getting us nowhere.
- Let me see.

Oh, that's not fair.
I didn't even have a soul
when I did that.

There has to be a way
to narrow down the search.

Reaper. Cross-reference
with the word "Reaper."

- Where'd you pull that?
- Came to me in the shower.

Here it is.
Matthias Pavayne,
dark soul number 182.

Pavayne.
Well, there's not much here.

European aristocrat,
18th century.

He was a doctor
nicknamed "The Reaper"...

"for performing unnecessary
surgery on his patients."

What kind of surgery?
The kind you
don't recover from.

There's a file on him
in internal archives,
classified histories.

He worked for
Wolfram and Hart?
Not exactly.

"Word spread of
his unorthodox practices.

"Fled to California,
still under Spanish rule
at the time.

"His arrival coincided
with a rash of brutal
ritualistic murders.

Pieces of the victims placed in
a manner suggesting an intimate
knowledge of the dark arts."

Pieces?

The slaughter continued for
the better part of 20 years.

The perpetrator was never
caught. At least, not by
the authorities.

Are you saying Wolfram and Hart
took this guy out?

Why would they do that?
Sounds like their idea
of employee of the month.

Because they needed
his blood.

"Representatives from Wolfram
and Hart were looking to
build a new branch...

"in what would eventually
become Los Angeles.

Unfortunately, a Spanish
mission was resting on the site
their seers recommended."

They needed an appropriate
sacrifice to deconsecrate
the grounds.

So this place is built on
the blood of a mass-murdering
psychopath?

- It would appear so.
- But if Pavayne's half
as bad as he sounds,

he should've been roasting his
chestnuts in hell centuries ago.

You said something about
the dark arts, right?

Maybe he knew enough
to figure out a way
to stick around.

Might explain why the mystics
can't get a bead on him too.

What I still don't get are all
the ghosts in Wolfram and Hart.

But there aren't any.
But that's what I mean.
High-risk employment.

People die here all the time.
This place should be full of
spooks. So what happened to 'em?

Maybe this Pavayne character's
munching on 'em.

Whatever he's doing to them,
we need to get Spike back,
before he's next.

Vampire soul.
Watch it struggle.

More fun than the others.
Go to hell.

Your journey, not mine.

Oh, the pretty.
Still trying to save you.

Such passion.

So wet and sweet.

Perhaps I'll have
a taste one day.

Still thinking
like meat and bone.

There's none here, boy.

In this place,
all the rules are mine.

Reality bends.
My desire.

The way it was meant to.

Bending reality.

I didn't just fade away.
It was you.

That's why they can't
see me anymore.

Parlor tricks, to amuse.

Like your blood.

Oh, yes.
Nothing here without the will.

Your voice, your body--

Clothes you think you wear.

William the Bloody.
Scourge and destroyer.

But scratch the surface--

Little nancy, still crying
for his mother.

Know all your hiddens.

Dirty red things
you've done.

Then fell in love,
won himself a soul.

No more dirty things.
Thinks himself special.

- Thinks it matters.
-
Hell still waits.

Knows he deserves it
like all the others.

You killed them. No.

Died themselves.
Here, in service
of Wolfram and Hart.

Little ants,
scurrying from the flames.

Their spirits hung on. Tried to
keep from tumbling into hell.
Until you gave them a shove.

Burning now.

Screaming forever,
like you'll scream.

If they're in hell, they can't
be here then, can they?

Just more of your tricks.
They aren't real.

-
Real enough.

Hell always hungers
for the wicked, boy.

And it's feeding time.

- That's never good.
- What? Oh, no.

I-I just ran out
of white board.
I'm not crazy.

- Again.
- Just scary smart.

You really think
this'll bring Spike back?

Well, I had to extrapolate
a new variation...

on interdimensional plasma
dynamics on the fly,
but if the math holds--

All right. First we'll try to
get Spike back, and then
we'll deal with Pavayne.

Wait. For this to work,
it's gonna require a massive
surge of dark energy...

- to catalyze the process.
- How massive?

The equivalent of nuclear evil.

Where the hell are
we supposed to find that?

Well, there is a legend...

that tells of a volcano
deep in the forbidden jungles
of South Africa.

Or I might know a place
a little closer to home.

The White Room?

Why do you think
they call it that?

And how are we
still in the building when
we're standing in a place...

that technically
doesn't exist?
So this is your brainstorm?

You want to try and snip off
a piece of the Conduit that
connects Wolfram and Hart...

to the other dimensions.
"Want" may be a hair strong.

Last Conduit took the form
of that creepy little girl.

No telling what the new one's
decided to look like.

Actually, it's not that bad.

If you like cats.

Kind of a dog person.

Ix-nay on the og-day.

Uh, look,
we're-we're not here
to ruffle anything.

We're just wondering
if maybe we could borrow
a couple of whiskers.

Whoa. Hey, easy.
It's me, Charles Gunn.

You know I wouldn't be here
if the situation wasn't heavy.

Just asking for a little help.
Me to you. Personal favor.

- What do you say?
-

Yeah.

Who's a good kitty?

Disappointing.

I expected more
from the soul of a vampire.

Too much conscience perhaps,
weighing it down.

Look. Hell knows you're ready.

Plump and ripe.

Beginning to understand,
aren't you?

The soul that blesses you...

damns you to suffer forever.

You go now, William,
so I can stay.

Yes, squirm, boy.
It won't make a difference.

Getting what you deserve.

You're right.

I do deserve to go to hell.

But not today.

You dare!

Quite a bit, mate.
Reality bends to desire.

That was it, right?
That's why I could touch Fred.
Write your name in the glass.

All I had to do
was want it bad enough.

And guess what
I want to do now,
you prissy son of a bitch?

Cute little racket you've
got carved out for yourself.

Prying off spirits
and sucking 'em down the chute.

Kept your own toasties
out of the fire, didn't it?
Till now.

Not so much fun
when we hit back, is it?

It's starting to be.

Make sure it's calibrated
to minus .058.

- Did you get it?
- Make it count. Told me
we ain't gettin' any more.

It talks?
I didn't hear it talk.

- Maybe you weren't
listening right.
- I think we're almost ready.

- So how do we let Spike know?
- Won't have to.

This baby puts out enough juice
to light up Ghost City.

Anything remotely spectral
around here's about to get
the tinglies.

Learned a few of my tricks.

Means nothing, does it?

I've cheated hell
for hundreds of years.

Fed it other
dirty little souls.

Left me alone.
Let me get stronger.

Now, in this realm...

I am God.

And you?

Wood for the fire.

This won't do.
This won't do at all.

He's here!

Spike, step
into the circle! Hurry!

We've only got one chance
of making you corporeal again--

Why ever would
I want to do that?

- Fred!
- Pavayne. He's killing her.

Decisions.

The girl--
or the flesh.

There's no time for both.

There's hope
for you yet, boy.

Not really.

No! Defilers!

I'll cut you into nothing!

I'll feast on your brains!

I'll swim in lakes
of your own blood!

You'll shut the hell up.

Don't kill him.
If he becomes a spirit again,
we'll never stop him.

Fine. No killing.
Just a whole lot of bruising.

Sure you're all right?

Yeah. It's just-- you know.

Why don't you take a break?
We'll finish up.

Thanks.

Don't suppose
you built a spare.

Most of the pieces I used
on this one were practically
nonexistent to start with.

Even if I could replace
them, the chances of finding
another power source--

I'm sorry.

Don't be, luv.
Made my choice.

Wouldn't change it
for the world.

There are other things we could
try. They're a little riskier,
but--

No. I'm not going to
end up like Pavayne.

Cheating hell
any way he could,
no matter who it hurt.

Just proves what
I've been telling everybody.

That I'm a handsome devil
who brightens the place up?

That you're worth saving.

Don't have it so bad really.

Plenty of room.
Good company.

Even picked up
a few new tricks.

I guess there's worse things
than being a ghost.

You sure
it'll hold him?
Permanent storage.

If there's anything
Wolfram and Hart excels at,

it's keeping their
unmentionables unmentioned.

Congratulations.
You get to live forever.

Unable to move,
to touch,

or to feel.

Or to affect anything
in the world around you.

But don't worry.
I had them give you a window.

Welcome to hell.

Grr! Arrgh!