Title: RETURN
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
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.
VERY SLIGHT SITUATIONAL SPOILERS
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 14. Unthought Of
Spike said, "So did you tell her?"
"No," Giles said. "I think we can give her some time to relax, don't you? She's had so much pressure on her lately, even before the recent disasters -- financial, family, school -- "
Spike suddenly slapped his own forehead. "Financial! I am a bloody twit!" he said vehemently. "Rupert, listen -- Article 127, clause 12."
Giles eyes widened. "Surely -- surely you, you, you must be joking," he stammered.
"Not a bit of it."
"I've been researching that for months!" Giles exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
"I've got everything; numbers, dates, everything. If we survive the next couple of weeks, everything's rosy."
Giles stared at him incredulously for a moment, and then did something no one could remember ever seeing him do. He burst out laughing.
Buffy stood in the doorway, puzzled. It was good to see them getting along, and she frankly had expected a bit more trouble in that area. But this was a little unusual. "Hey, guys, what's so funny?" she said.
Spike looked at Giles. "You want to tell her, or shall I?"
Giles took his glasses off and waved them, rubbing his eyelids and chuckling. "No, no, you go ahead."
Spike moved down to the bottom step. "Come and sit down, love," he said.
"Okay, now you're scaring me," Buffy said, complying. "What gives?"
"I'm just gonna tell you straight out, love. You've got money."
"What do you mean, I've got money?" she said. She sat with her back straight, looking from one to the other. "I have no money. I'm broke. I'm money-less. I'm without funds."
"No. You aren't. You've got a numbered Swiss bank account, and now that you've turned twenty-one, you can access it any time you like."
"I don't understand -- "
Giles said, "Buffy, I've been looking into this for some time, but I didn't want to say anything until certain obstacles had been overcome. Which, apparently, they have been. You and I were both supposed to receive a stipend from the Council, all along; usually a Slayer is more dependent on her Watcher. But because of your unusual circumstances, you had your mother, and a relatively normal life."
"Like Kendra lived with Mr. Zabuto?"
"Exactly. But the money was still due to you. I should have been paid to support you, and money should also have been disbursed to you directly for living expenses when you reached eighteen."
"Except the bleeding Council of Wankers were a bit miffed with you both at that point."
"So neither one of us got our money -- "
"But the stupid berks paid it out all the same. Just didn't tell you about it. Got to keep the books balanced. They knew all about you working in that sodding meat palace, don't think they didn't, the scuzzy weasels."
"So there's money sitting in a bank somewhere? How does that help?"
"Because the account is in the name of Buffy Anne Summers -- that's you," Spike said patiently. "And I've got the account number and password. All you need is your birth certificate or something, and you can swan along to your local bank Monday morning and start making withdrawals. And there's sod all anyone can do about it, because you're you, love, and it rightfully belongs to you."
"Yes -- not a very edifying performance by the Council, I must say."
Buffy clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a shriek. "Oh, my god," she said. "Oh, my god, oh, my god."
Giles and Spike just sat and watched her happiness blossom. It was their job, after all. Her eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if she were mentally reviewing formerly intractable problems and seeing them fall like dominoes.
After a few minutes of enjoying her ecstatic bouncing and inarticulate exclamations, Spike reluctantly said, "There is one more thing, love - "
But Giles interrupted him, with a warning look. "Why don't we have a meeting over dinner? There are a few, ah, future events we should all talk over together." After a moment, Spike acquiesced in this. Let her be happy.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!"
William Wordsworth
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
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.
VERY SLIGHT SITUATIONAL SPOILERS
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 14. Unthought Of
Spike said, "So did you tell her?"
"No," Giles said. "I think we can give her some time to relax, don't you? She's had so much pressure on her lately, even before the recent disasters -- financial, family, school -- "
Spike suddenly slapped his own forehead. "Financial! I am a bloody twit!" he said vehemently. "Rupert, listen -- Article 127, clause 12."
Giles eyes widened. "Surely -- surely you, you, you must be joking," he stammered.
"Not a bit of it."
"I've been researching that for months!" Giles exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
"I've got everything; numbers, dates, everything. If we survive the next couple of weeks, everything's rosy."
Giles stared at him incredulously for a moment, and then did something no one could remember ever seeing him do. He burst out laughing.
Buffy stood in the doorway, puzzled. It was good to see them getting along, and she frankly had expected a bit more trouble in that area. But this was a little unusual. "Hey, guys, what's so funny?" she said.
Spike looked at Giles. "You want to tell her, or shall I?"
Giles took his glasses off and waved them, rubbing his eyelids and chuckling. "No, no, you go ahead."
Spike moved down to the bottom step. "Come and sit down, love," he said.
"Okay, now you're scaring me," Buffy said, complying. "What gives?"
"I'm just gonna tell you straight out, love. You've got money."
"What do you mean, I've got money?" she said. She sat with her back straight, looking from one to the other. "I have no money. I'm broke. I'm money-less. I'm without funds."
"No. You aren't. You've got a numbered Swiss bank account, and now that you've turned twenty-one, you can access it any time you like."
"I don't understand -- "
Giles said, "Buffy, I've been looking into this for some time, but I didn't want to say anything until certain obstacles had been overcome. Which, apparently, they have been. You and I were both supposed to receive a stipend from the Council, all along; usually a Slayer is more dependent on her Watcher. But because of your unusual circumstances, you had your mother, and a relatively normal life."
"Like Kendra lived with Mr. Zabuto?"
"Exactly. But the money was still due to you. I should have been paid to support you, and money should also have been disbursed to you directly for living expenses when you reached eighteen."
"Except the bleeding Council of Wankers were a bit miffed with you both at that point."
"So neither one of us got our money -- "
"But the stupid berks paid it out all the same. Just didn't tell you about it. Got to keep the books balanced. They knew all about you working in that sodding meat palace, don't think they didn't, the scuzzy weasels."
"So there's money sitting in a bank somewhere? How does that help?"
"Because the account is in the name of Buffy Anne Summers -- that's you," Spike said patiently. "And I've got the account number and password. All you need is your birth certificate or something, and you can swan along to your local bank Monday morning and start making withdrawals. And there's sod all anyone can do about it, because you're you, love, and it rightfully belongs to you."
"Yes -- not a very edifying performance by the Council, I must say."
Buffy clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a shriek. "Oh, my god," she said. "Oh, my god, oh, my god."
Giles and Spike just sat and watched her happiness blossom. It was their job, after all. Her eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if she were mentally reviewing formerly intractable problems and seeing them fall like dominoes.
After a few minutes of enjoying her ecstatic bouncing and inarticulate exclamations, Spike reluctantly said, "There is one more thing, love - "
But Giles interrupted him, with a warning look. "Why don't we have a meeting over dinner? There are a few, ah, future events we should all talk over together." After a moment, Spike acquiesced in this. Let her be happy.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!"
William Wordsworth