"Another Potter Xover..."



How could I resist?...

PG-13

Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse, www.geocities.com/buffyrebecca/Cicelypg.html

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Summary: Buffy has a crucial meeting with H. Potter...About ten years from now...In New Sunnydale...

***

A distraught Xander sits in his office...Buffy beside him, desperate...

"Think Xander...Think...Is there anywhere you might've gone...Anything you did differently today?..."

"No..." he looks up at her... "I've tried and tried...I can't think of anything...I just can't think anymore...I've looked everywhere, Buf...Even..." he bursts into tears... "Even An's old room in our place...It's nowhere to be found...I'm no good to you, Buf..."

She grabs him...Trying to hold herself in... "Think...Xander, you've got to think...It has to be here...Somewhere...Where is it?..."

"I can't think, Buffy...I..."

"Where is it?!..." she shrieks at him... "You childish, stupid...Where is it?!!...Do you know what losing it means!...It means ruin, scandal!...Prison!..."

"Damn you!...One of us is going to jail!...It won't be me!!..." she flies out the door as he sobs...Slamming it...

***

The office of H .Potter, downtown New Sunnydale...Henry Potter...Disabled and disgruntled billionaire banker...

"Well...So..." Potter smiles coldly at a Buffy rendered even shorter in his "special" chair reserved for supplicants...Leaning back expansively...

"What can Henry Potter do for the...Well..." he grins... "One...Of the Slayers..."

"You've got to help me, Henry...I'm in trouble and I need help..."

Oh...His smile is icy...Well...

"Through some sort of oversight...My art museum's funds are short...$80,000 dollars...It's been lost, somehow..."

"Oh...? Lost, you say?!" Potter gives a "startled" look...My, my...

"Yes...I can't find it...Anywhere..."

"You lost $80,000 dollars...?" he eyes his butler, impassive behind his employer's wheelchair...Naturally, being a zombie...

"Yes..." the frantic Buffy twists her hands...

"Well...Did you contact the police...?..."



"No..." she shakes her head... "Not with the celebration for Dawny...Coming back from the third Gulf War and all...I didn't want it to get into the papers..."

Ah...Well...They're gonna believe that...Potter chuckles...

"Help me...Help me please, Mr. Potter...You can see what this means...What it would do to my family?..."

"Well...What happened, Buffy?...Have you been playing round with the museum's books...? Lost it in the stock market, maybe?..."

"No, sir...Nothing like that..."

"Ah...Well, maybe that husband of yours?...That William...? The "resouled vampire" you passed me up for?...You know it's all over town that he's been slipping money and blood to Drusilla..."

"What...?" Buffy stares...All over...?

"Well...In any case..." Potter leers...Leaning back again... "Why do you come to me...Why not all your friends?...Why not that hot-shot lawyer friend, Liam Angel...? He must be loaded..."

They look at each other...Angel?...Loan money?

"Well...Why not all your other friends...?"

"They haven't got that kind of money...You know that, Henry...You're the only one who can help me..."

"Really...?...Well..." Potter leers again... "So...I've suddenly become very important to the Summers-Walthrop family, eh?..."

"Look...Henry...I'll pay any kind of interest on the loan...If you still want the museum you can have it...Just...Please..."

"Well, Buffy...What kind of collateral can you offer me on a loan like this...We both know your house is on its second mortgage to support the museum and your "writer" husband..." he sneered...

"You have any stocks?...Bonds?...Collateral of any kind...?"

Well...Buffy shrugged..."I have a life insurance policy..." Pulls out a packet...

"Being a Slayer they gave me a fairly good limit...$100,000..."

"Well..." Potter eyes the policy... "What's the equity on it?..."

Ummn...$10000...Buffy sighs...

"Ten thousand..." Potter smiles...Then sneers..."And you want me to lend you $80,000..."

"Look at you...You used to be so cocky...You were the Law, right?...The Slayer...You..." he glares as she stares back...

"You once called me a warped, frustrated old man...And compared me to Warren Mears...Well...What are you?...But a warped, frustrated young woman...Miserable little slayer (small s...he sneered) and pokey art museum director, crawling in here on your hands and knees, begging ole Henry F for help..."

"Do you know why you don't go to that riff-raff of friends you love so much for help?...Cause you know...They'd run you outta town on a rail...Money rather than their lives being at stake here..."



She rises...Shattered...

"But..." he smiles again..."I will do something for you, Mrs. Summers-Walthrop...As a board director and shareholder of the Joyce Summers Memorial Art Museum...I'll swear out a warrant for your arrest..."

She backs out of the room staring at him...

"Malfeasance...Misappropriation of funds...Larceny..." he begins dialing the phone...As she stumbles out...

"Go on, go on...Slayer..." he sneers... "You can't hide in a little town like this...Bill..." he turns to the phone...

"This is Potter..."...

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