Work Text:
Here's My Fantasy: Wesley & Cordelia's Fantasies
by Ragna
"When I'd heard you wanted to be Robin Hood, I thought you meant in the woods and stuff," Spike said, looking at Wesley.
The former Watcher shook his head. "No, not really. I mean, as much as I am enamored with the story, I don't think I could have lived in those times. Being a modern day Robin Hood, however," Wesley said, a smile on his face, "*that's* something I can live with."
Spike also smiled. "I'm just glad I don't have to wear tights and carry a quarterstaff."
Wesley visibly shuddered. "My reasoning exactly." He looked over at the sheet of paper in his hand.
On that sheet of paper were ten welfare families that needed better homes, food, money to survive, and Wesley was to help provide them with that.
He wasn't a thief, which didn't surprise Spike as much. He was simply a very good lawyer, someone who stood up for the poor when they went against the rich and the big corporations, someone who almost always won. And won big, at that.
Even though he could have been rich, could have stopped bothering, he kept helping the poor, using his share of the settlements to help welfare families in Los Angeles, the ones who were suffering from strings of bad luck. He'd set the head of household up with a job, some at his law firm, and then he'd get the family food, clothing and anything else they needed to get out from under welfare.
Spike had to admire the man, albeit grudgingly.
And he was Jonathan Littleman, or at least that's what the sign on his door said. Junior partner in the firm of Wyndham-Price & Littleman. Since he was the only other partner, he got his name on the door.
Spike felt strange doing this much good.
***
"Order. Please rise for the honorable Judge Kennah."
Everyone in the courtroom stood. Spike looked over at the defendant, being represented by some lawyer from Wolfram & Hart, Lindsey McDonald. "Cocky young bugger," he muttered under his breath as Lindsey looked back, grinning smugly.
"You mean Mr. McDonald? I have to agree," Wesley said as everyone took their seats again.
The judge on the bench looked young, her hair pulled back into a small bun near the nape of her neck. She looked over the file in front of her, then looked towards Wesley and Lindsey. "Council, approach the bench."
Both Wesley and Lindsey approached quietly, and the judge covered her microphone. "Why isn't there a jury?"
"It's really a simple litigation matter," Lindsey said, almost purring the words. "Nothing to worry twelve people about."
Wesley started to roll his eyes, then stopped. "Judge Kennah, we simply believe your judgment will suffice, and the matter needs the utmost attention. Picking a jury would only impede the process."
The judge nodded. "Mr. McDonald, you might want to add a bit of flattery to your appeal next time." She motioned for them to go back to their seats. "Plaintiff, call your first witness."
"Plaintiff calls Miss Cordelia Chase."
***
Cordy liked this fantasy. Back in LA, she had to deal with the constant lack of money, the demons, watching her back against Wolfram & Hart, the visions, the constant lack of money; it bogged her down.
Her fantasy was simple: she wanted money and she wanted to be able to make a real difference in somebody's life. And when Wesley had told her his fantasy...
She could be the Maid Marion to his Robin Hood.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff asked.
"I do."
TBC