Title: Return
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Distribution: OK, but let me know.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: A Spike-centric alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating many (though not all) recent spoilers. The end of BtVs, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
DEFINITE SPOILER ALERT!!!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 3. The Deep of Night
Buffy, Giles, Spike, and a yawning Dawn sat around the dining room table in the Summers house, drinking tea. It was three in the morning.
Warren had been delivered to the police, who were looking for him and very glad to have him in custody. Xander took the unconscious Anya home, having been repeatedly assured that she was alive, permanently human, and uninjured, but had simply used up the last of her strength. Giles and Buffy put an oblivious Willow to bed upstairs; she hadn't spoken or moved since her collapse. And Dawn had been collected from her hiding place, Spike's crypt, where she'd spent an uneventful evening playing gin rummy (unless you counted winning twenty-five dollars) with Clem.
"Why did you go away like that?" Dawn asked Spike plaintively. She had been clutching his hand almost continuously since first seeing him. "We needed you."
"Sorry, Little Bit; there was something I had to do. I didn't know all this was going down, did I?"
"You're going to stay now, aren't you?" she said, trying not to yawn again.
" 'Course I am."
"Dawnie, you should get to bed," Buffy said. "You can talk to Spike tomorrow."
"Yes, there'll be time enough for explanations later," Giles said. "Off you go."
"You're just going to talk about stuff you don't want me to hear," Dawn said resentfully. But she was so sleepy her heart wasn't in it. She stood up and hugged Spike. "Promise you'll tell me all the secrets tomorrow?"
"Cross my heart."
"Okay. 'Night, Giles," Dawn said. Then she hugged Buffy too. " 'Night."
They waited until she got upstairs to continue any serious discussion. Buffy couldn't take her eyes from Spike. He looked the same -- he wore the same black coat, jeans, and boots he always wore, his platinum hair was neat -- but somehow he seemed so different. He was relaxed. That was it. He wasn't twitching with energy, or scowling like he'd rather be elsewhere, but rather sat still and contained, quite calm. Most un-Spike like. And he wasn't --
"Bloody hell," he said, feeling in his pockets. "D'you mind if I smoke?"
After a moment of stunned silence, she managed to say, "No, that's okay," and looked desperately at Giles. They exchanged a wary look as Spike lit a cigarette, both thinking the same thing. They had known Spike, one way or another, for five years, and he had never asked anyone if they minded if he smoked. In fact he rather hoped they did mind. Who was this guy really?
Giles cleaned his glasses.
"Ah, Spike," he said, "where exactly have you been?"
"Ethiopia," Spike said, inhaling gratefully, and breathing out a long, dragon-like plume. "For a start."
"How the hell could you get there and back so quickly?" Buffy exclaimed.
"You saw how," Spike said. "I clicked my heels three times. Anyhow, it wasn't quite so quick from my end."
"But why Ethiopia?" pursued Giles.
"Because that's where I needed to go," Spike said, reaching in his pocket again, "to get this bleeding chip out. In a manner of speaking." He dropped a shiny, inch-long piece of silicon and plastic on the table before them. "Thought I'd have it bronzed. Oh, relax," he said, looking at their startled faces, "believe me, it's not a problem."
"Not for you, maybe -- " Buffy began hotly, but Giles interrupted.
"But obviously you're channeling some -- some immense source of power, so that's not all that happened, is it?" he asked.
" 'Course not," Spike said. His face was amused and almost affectionate. Giles found it most disconcerting. "Come on now, Rupes. I've given you plenty of clues. Get that brain in gear."
"Ethiopia," Giles mused, " 'The Beginning' -- My God!" he exclaimed, springing up suddenly.
Spike looked up at him. "*Now* you're getting it," he said encouragingly. They stared at each other, Giles rather wild-eyed.
"Will somebody please just tell me what the hell is going on?" Buffy shouted. Maybe they were just this annoying because they were English, and it had nothing to do with good or evil at all. She wanted to smack Giles just as much as Spike at the moment.
"I think -- that is, well, he, he -- it was thought to be a legend -- there's never been any confirmation -- any accurate confirmation -- it's very ancient and the reports are hardly reliable -- I, I never thought it was in fact possible -- "
"Giles, you're babbling!"
"Perhaps something a little stronger than tea would be in order," Spike said soothingly.
"God, yes!" Giles said.
TBC
"The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity,
Which we will niggard with a little rest."
Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Distribution: OK, but let me know.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: A Spike-centric alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating many (though not all) recent spoilers. The end of BtVs, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
DEFINITE SPOILER ALERT!!!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 3. The Deep of Night
Buffy, Giles, Spike, and a yawning Dawn sat around the dining room table in the Summers house, drinking tea. It was three in the morning.
Warren had been delivered to the police, who were looking for him and very glad to have him in custody. Xander took the unconscious Anya home, having been repeatedly assured that she was alive, permanently human, and uninjured, but had simply used up the last of her strength. Giles and Buffy put an oblivious Willow to bed upstairs; she hadn't spoken or moved since her collapse. And Dawn had been collected from her hiding place, Spike's crypt, where she'd spent an uneventful evening playing gin rummy (unless you counted winning twenty-five dollars) with Clem.
"Why did you go away like that?" Dawn asked Spike plaintively. She had been clutching his hand almost continuously since first seeing him. "We needed you."
"Sorry, Little Bit; there was something I had to do. I didn't know all this was going down, did I?"
"You're going to stay now, aren't you?" she said, trying not to yawn again.
" 'Course I am."
"Dawnie, you should get to bed," Buffy said. "You can talk to Spike tomorrow."
"Yes, there'll be time enough for explanations later," Giles said. "Off you go."
"You're just going to talk about stuff you don't want me to hear," Dawn said resentfully. But she was so sleepy her heart wasn't in it. She stood up and hugged Spike. "Promise you'll tell me all the secrets tomorrow?"
"Cross my heart."
"Okay. 'Night, Giles," Dawn said. Then she hugged Buffy too. " 'Night."
They waited until she got upstairs to continue any serious discussion. Buffy couldn't take her eyes from Spike. He looked the same -- he wore the same black coat, jeans, and boots he always wore, his platinum hair was neat -- but somehow he seemed so different. He was relaxed. That was it. He wasn't twitching with energy, or scowling like he'd rather be elsewhere, but rather sat still and contained, quite calm. Most un-Spike like. And he wasn't --
"Bloody hell," he said, feeling in his pockets. "D'you mind if I smoke?"
After a moment of stunned silence, she managed to say, "No, that's okay," and looked desperately at Giles. They exchanged a wary look as Spike lit a cigarette, both thinking the same thing. They had known Spike, one way or another, for five years, and he had never asked anyone if they minded if he smoked. In fact he rather hoped they did mind. Who was this guy really?
Giles cleaned his glasses.
"Ah, Spike," he said, "where exactly have you been?"
"Ethiopia," Spike said, inhaling gratefully, and breathing out a long, dragon-like plume. "For a start."
"How the hell could you get there and back so quickly?" Buffy exclaimed.
"You saw how," Spike said. "I clicked my heels three times. Anyhow, it wasn't quite so quick from my end."
"But why Ethiopia?" pursued Giles.
"Because that's where I needed to go," Spike said, reaching in his pocket again, "to get this bleeding chip out. In a manner of speaking." He dropped a shiny, inch-long piece of silicon and plastic on the table before them. "Thought I'd have it bronzed. Oh, relax," he said, looking at their startled faces, "believe me, it's not a problem."
"Not for you, maybe -- " Buffy began hotly, but Giles interrupted.
"But obviously you're channeling some -- some immense source of power, so that's not all that happened, is it?" he asked.
" 'Course not," Spike said. His face was amused and almost affectionate. Giles found it most disconcerting. "Come on now, Rupes. I've given you plenty of clues. Get that brain in gear."
"Ethiopia," Giles mused, " 'The Beginning' -- My God!" he exclaimed, springing up suddenly.
Spike looked up at him. "*Now* you're getting it," he said encouragingly. They stared at each other, Giles rather wild-eyed.
"Will somebody please just tell me what the hell is going on?" Buffy shouted. Maybe they were just this annoying because they were English, and it had nothing to do with good or evil at all. She wanted to smack Giles just as much as Spike at the moment.
"I think -- that is, well, he, he -- it was thought to be a legend -- there's never been any confirmation -- any accurate confirmation -- it's very ancient and the reports are hardly reliable -- I, I never thought it was in fact possible -- "
"Giles, you're babbling!"
"Perhaps something a little stronger than tea would be in order," Spike said soothingly.
"God, yes!" Giles said.
TBC
"The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity,
Which we will niggard with a little rest."
Shakespeare, Julius Caesar