Chapter One - The Guests Arrive

 

----====Wesley====----

"Could you at least try to get along with her, Lilah?" I asked wearily, leaning back against the study wall. We had retreated here so I could listen yet again to my fiancée's complaints about my mother. "I really don't see that it matters," I continued. "We are only here until Saturday afternoon, after which we will be heading for Paris as Mr and Mrs Pryce-Morgan. Can't you just let her run her own household until then?"

Lilah's arms were folded and her lips were pursed. "I don't intend to get married more than once in my lifetime, Wesley, and so this is damn well going to go according to plan. *My* plan."

I folded my own arms. "Mother is set in her ways and too old to change, and I still don't see how her control of the menu over the next two days affects *your* plan. She's having nothing to do with the wedding feast, after all, as that's outside catering."

"Her chef is a disgrace to the profession and should be done for gross misrepresentation, not to mention numerous hygiene misdemeanours."

I looked at her crossly. "Oh come now, that's unfair. Mrs Riddlestone has been the cook here since I was a lad, and no one's died of food poisoning yet."

"All the more reason to give her early retirement!"

"Lilah!"

"The food, Wesley, is disgusting." Her eyes flashed with anger.

"It's just English," I sighed. "And rather old fashioned English at that."

"If this is what your countrymen traditionally eat, it's amazing you don't all have malnutrition. No wonder you are skin and bone."

I glared at her. "I am *not* skin a..."

"Yes, you are, but that's ok," she smirked.

I took a deep breath. "Lilah, you are quite the most infuriating, resistant, difficult woman that I have ever had the misfortune to fall head over heels in love with." That made her smile, thank goodness, and she sauntered over for an embrace.

Our wedding was only forty-eight hours or so away, and nerves were becoming fragile. For reasons currently a little opaque to me, we had decided to hold it in the grounds of my family home in Shropshire. Trefonen Manor was easily big enough to house all the guests we had invited, and locating it here meant my mother, still immersed in widowhood, would not have to travel.

A few days ago, we had arrived from the States, Lilah having taken extended leave from Wolfram and Hart for the wedding and honeymoon, and we'd begun the process of taking over the home and grounds for the big day.

In actual fact, both house and land had belonged to me since my father's death. Due to a restrictive clause in an ancestor's will, the property was entailed to male-line descendants. But I was happy for Mum to remain here for the rest of her days, after which, if I was still around myself, I would dispose of it by deed. There were far too many bad memories here for this to ever seem a desirable place to settle.

But although my reasons for getting married *here* currently confounded me, at least my reasons for getting married at all remained sound.

I bent my head to kiss my soon to be bride on her perfectly painted lips, which parted, encouraging my tongue to explore within. My arms enfolded her, as hers snaked under my sweater to get one step closer to skin. Lord, I adored this woman.

I was just starting to slide a hand up the back of her legs, when the big bell belonging to the front door reverberated throughout the house. The first of our guests due today had arrived.

Lilah was out of my arms and heading for the entrance hall before I could draw a breath. I assumed she wanted to reach the door before Miss Benton, the housekeeper, could get there.

My fiancée had very little patience with Mother's small coterie of servants, considering them all to be rude and haughty, and embarrassing relics of a once class-based society. English society was not exactly classless now, of course, but I hadn't pointed that out, not wanting to prolong that particular discussion.

As I left the study and walked down the corridor to the entrance hall, I could hear Lilah dismissing Miss Benton as she would an underling in the office. I winced. It really wasn't politic to make enemies of the servants; a good relationship with them was essential for an easy life here. I didn't believe in keeping servants at all, of course, but if one must have them, an atmosphere of mutual respect was required.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs and allowed Lilah the dubious honour of opening the heavy front door. I said a little prayer that whoever was at the other side of the door wouldn't mistake her for the housekeeper. She neatly avoided that issue, however, with a little speech.

"Hi, welcome to the Upstairs Downstairs theme park. One hundred percent blue-blooded fun guaranteed. I'm Lilah, may I take your coats?"

I heard a familiar laugh from outside the door. "Hello Lilah, it's wonderful to finally meet you in person." I walked quickly over as Lilah stepped aside to allow Rupert and the heavily pregnant Anya Giles to enter. Rupert kissed my lover on the cheek in a friendly gesture. Lilah was momentarily taken back, but then smiled warmly enough.

"Rupert, Anya, it is very good to see you both." I said, wondering if Rupert would appreciate an LA style hug and deciding that he probably wouldn't. "How was your journey?"

Anya answered. "Long and very bumpy, and I'd hug you both, but would you please show me to a bathroom right away?"

Lilah laughed. "How about I show you to your room and you can freshen up as you wish? We've allocated you the attic as it has what passes for en suite facilities in this living history exhibition." She paused to consider Anya's impressive belly. "Although we can change things around if the stairs are going to be a problem."

"Stairs are fair exchange for a bathroom," Anya smiled, moving from foot to foot.

"This way then," Lilah indicted the stairs and the pair climbed them, increasingly rapidly.

Lilah seemed to be on her best behaviour, and I had to admit I was relieved. She and Anya had exchanged the odd e-mail and phone conversation since our adventures during the autumn, and Lilah had asked Anya to play the role of Matron of Honour during our wedding. It looked as though the pair could be on their way to an actual friendship. As my lover didn't have any female friends, I found this prospect wonderfully encouraging.

I turned to Giles and grinned, taking his hand in both of mine and shaking. "It's so good to see you."

"You too, Wes." He smiled warmly in response. "Oh, come here, let's do this properly." He pulled on my hands to draw me into a hearty embrace. "Are we the first to arrive?" he asked as he drew back again.

I moved behind him to shut the door. The Easter weather was being predictably cold and wet. "Yes, although I know the LA crowd are close. They called a short while ago for further directions. Come into the parlour and get warm. There's a fire going."

I led him into the smaller of our receiving rooms, used during the day because it was cheaper to heat. Mum was in her chair near the fire, the dogs curled lazily around her feet. Spritzer, the wolfhound, looked up as we entered, sniffing the air.

"Mother, Rupert Giles is here."

She glanced up from her book, and said in her usual matter of fact tones, "Hello there. Draw a chair close to the fire if you're chilled. I'll call Benton for some tea." She stood and walked a little unsteadily to the bell pull on the wall. Her joints seemed to seize up during the afternoons these days, although she was still fit enough for her morning ride, rain or shine. "Congratulations on your rapid promotion, by the way," she added. That had been a little arch, I thought.

"Thank you, Mrs Wyndam-Pryce," Rupert replied, a bit stiffly, as Mum returned to her seat. He himself sat down in Dad's old smoking chair, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by my mother who pursed her lips, but said nothing. Rupert asked her, "How have you been keeping since, er, the memorial service?"

"As well as could be expected," she answered. "Call me 'Dorothy', please." There was a knock on the parlour door and the Housekeeper entered. My mother turned to her. "Tea, Benton, please. And you better include some of those half-cooked biscuit things that Wesley's girlfriend brought over from America."

The stoic faced housekeeper nodded and left. She was a stern matronly woman and a long time companion of my mother, who now asked, "So, Giles, where's your young wife?"

There was maybe just a little bit too much emphasis on the word 'young', and Rupert seemed taken back by her phrasing, but then simply said, "She went upstairs with Lilah, to be shown our room."

Mother tut-tutted. "How very impolite." When Rupert seemed about to object, she added, "Of Wesley's girlfriend, I mean."

I sighed, leaning against the mantelpiece. "As I think I've said about twenty times so far, Mum, you can't expect Americans to understand the finer points of traditional English formality."

"No, I suppose not. If you ask me, son, you're turning half-native yourself."

I smiled at Giles, to reassure him that there was nothing genuinely nasty behind the words we were exchanging. Since my father's death, I'd made a point of contacting Mother frequently. We would never be close, but we shared bonds of memory as well as genes, and that had seemed important to me recently. We had developed a gruff, but vaguely affectionate working relationship, quite different to the days when Father was alive.

"Has your luggage been brought in?" she queried Rupert.

"Um, not as such. But don't worry about that, I'll fetch it later."

"Nonsense. I don't pay these servants so exorbitantly so that guests can carry their own bags. I'll speak to Benton about it when she brings the tea."

Things became uncomfortably silent for a while after that. The crackling of the fire and the ticking of the grandmother clock in the corner filled the breach. I was excessively happy to see Rupert, but a bit at a loss regarding what to talk about within such company. Mother picked up her book once again.

I played absent-mindedly with the odd brass contraption on the mantel. It was a disarmed Klakmachen, a kind of magical grenade. The Manor would seem odd to those used to traditional English houses, I supposed. In most ways, it was what everyone one would expect of a small Country House, 'small' meaning it was not palatial, of course. But if one were to study the books on the shelves of the library or the objet d'art scattered around the place, one couldn't help but identify this as a Watcher's residence.

The door opened, and Lilah and Anya came in, laughing about something. Lilah's expression soured when she met Mother's disapproving gaze. I walked over to the two younger women. "Mum, this is Anya Giles."

Anya went forward to greet my mother, who made the inevitable enquiries about her health and pregnancy, and I shared a moment with Lilah. She smiled and mouthed something just a little bit risque. I blushed, grinned and looked down. Now was hardly the time and place for my mind to go the places it had just rushed to.

At that moment, the doorbell sounded again. Lilah and I smiled in apology to the room and went back out into the hallway.

I was expecting Angel and his entourage, as when he'd called they'd been reasonably close to Oswestry, but it was in fact the contingent from Sunnydale at the door. They had been driven from Manchester airport by the terribly obliging George Pankhurst who, although he was invited, had declined to stay here tonight, preferring to get straight back to his work until the day of the wedding.

Spike was brazening it out under an umbrella. It was so overcast that he was in little danger. With him were the two Summers girls, one of whom I'd never met before, even though my memory provided me with several occasions when I supposedly had. The other, I only wished I'd never met. Still, the girlfriend of a best friend was my friend, or something like that.

"Welcome all of you," I said. "I invite you in." I wasn't sure if my legal ownership of the house was sufficient to give me the mystical authority to grant a vampire entrance, but apparently it was. Perhaps because the Manor had been my home as a child and somewhere in my mind I still thought it so, despite everything. I stepped back to allow them all to enter.

Lilah moved forward to play the hostess and gracefully accepted a tight hug from Spike, despite the fact that she was totally unused to people that were not me touching her in such a way. The pair had met a few times already. Spike had visited me twice over the months since our adventures ended and, while both visits had not really involved Lilah, the two were, at the very least, more than nodding acquaintances now.

As Lilah and Spike exchanged pleasantries, I found myself looking at the Slayer, who was looking back at me. It was over three years since I had since her last, but I seemed to have changed more than she had, at least, in appearance.

"Hello Buffy," I said, as warmly as I could manage.

"Hi Wes." She gave me a nice smile. It was a promising start.

"How was your journey?"

"Wet, but we didn't get lost once."

"We saw a sausage roll!" said Dawn helpfully, standing beside her sister.

"Really, how unfortunate for you," I smiled, and then found myself swamped in exuberant blond vampire as he pounced on me to deliver a manly hug.

"Wes, mate! Great to see you!"

I disentangled myself with good humour and said, "Well, the best man has made it here, so something must be going right. Have you still got the rings?"

He looked immediately alarmed. "I never had the bloody rings, did I?" He stopped, spotting the twinkle in my eyes. "You git! You got me!"

Grinning, I said to all three of them, "Rupert and Anya are here already. You better come and be presented to my mother."

We led them into the parlour, which was getting a little crowded, and trouble immediately began. Spritzer stirred at my mother's feet, sniffed the air, and then snarled angrily at Spike. I heard him mutter, "Bugger!" and he cast a pained look in my direction.

The wolfhound's reaction alerted the two older dogs, and soon all three were growling and egging each other on to attack, despite their fear of the vampire as a clearly superior predator. Mum was not happy.

"Settle down! All of you, sit!" The basset obeyed, but the other two continued to posture menacingly towards the vampire. Tessie, the Afghan barked loudly once, making everyone jump.

Spike said, "Sorry, er, ma'am. Dogs and me, well, I like them, but it's not mutual."

Mother scowled at him. "Well, if you wouldn't mind getting out of the way of the damn door so I can take them down to the kitchens..."

Spike immediately scuttled towards where Rupert and Anya were sitting, and the two girls followed him. I felt Lilah stiffen beside me, and I knew it was in reaction to the combined concept of 'dogs' and 'kitchen', but now was not the time. I grabbed her hand, squeezing hard, and drew her to one side as Mum bullied and herded the three hounds from the room. I shut the door behind her.

The atmosphere in the parlour was immediately improved, and both sets of guests started chatting happily to each other, allowing me a chance to relax. I released my grip on Lilah's hand and, as no one seemed to be looking our way, took her in my arms and kissed her gently. I felt the tension in her melt as I held her, and I allowed myself the luxury of losing myself in a long, soft kiss. We were amongst friends, after all.

"Dear God, Wesley! Have you lost all sense of decorum?"

I tensed immediately at the sound of my mother's voice from the doorway and tried to withdraw from Lilah's embrace, but she held me tightly, not allowing me to escape. I spared her a quick frown, as I firmly removed her hands, and said stiffly to Mum, "Our apologies."

Spike said, with what I think he must have considered to be a disarming grin, "Surely shortly to be newly weds are allowed some special dispensation?"

Mother scowled at him. "There is never a good excuse for bad manners, young man. Perhaps you would care to introduce yourself as my son seems to have become too American to remember common courtesy."

"Mum, *please*," I said with exasperation. It wasn't as if she wasn't being terribly rude herself. Never, of course, impolite, but saying awful things under the cover of good manners. I knew it must be difficult for her, having her home invaded like this and by such a strange mix of people, but she needed to make an effort. We all did.

Spike stood from where he had been crouching at Rupert's side, and walked over to her. With great extravagance of gesture, he took her hand, kissed it, and said, "Spike. At your service, ma'am." I rolled my eyes, but somehow he got away with it, which after the dogs was a true validation of his personal charm. My mother's expression softened.

"Ah, *you're* the Council's controversial new consultant. You may call me Dorothy. No abbreviations will be acceptable, however. I will call you 'William' if you don't mind, I can't quite bring myself to utter your chosen name."

He winked. Yes, he actually winked at my mother. "Because it's you, Dorothy, I'll allow it."

I hurried forward. "And these two charming young girls are Buffy and Dawn Summers." I gestured appropriately and they both froze in place, clearly not knowing how to behave, especially after Spike's over the top example.

Mum looked them over with a critical eye. "Which one of you is the Slayer?" she asked, as if she didn't know perfectly well.

Buffy said, "I am she who hangs about in, er... I'm the Slayer."

"Such a little slip of a thing you are too," she replied thoughtfully, and then turned to me. "There are too many of us for this parlour now, Wesley. We shall move to the Gainsborough Room ready for the remainder of your guests. I've had Dorkins make the fires up in there, and Benton has been laying out the tea."

So, obligingly, we all shuffled out of the parlour and along the corridors to the much more substantial Gainsborough Room, a large drawing room that gained its name from a genuine painting by the artist, which hung high on the wall between the two huge fireplaces. There were several old masterpieces by the Greats dotted about the house. I had been urging Mum to sell them to pay for the modernisation the building badly needed, but she wouldn't hear of it.

A small table had been spread with pots of tea, plates of tiny crustless sandwiches, and various other pastries and finger foods. A maid waited unobtrusively by the table, ready to pour.

"Help yourself to the food," Mother instructed. "I'm sure you must all be hungry after your journey, and we eat dinner at the traditional time here, so you mustn't worry about filling up. Let Williams know how you like your tea and she'll do the honours."

I moved towards Spike and murmured, "We have a large supply of fresh animal blood for you and Angel. The servants believe it to be a special tomato-based formula drink that you need for health reasons."

"Thanks, mate," he smiled. "But tea and munchies will do me fine for now."

Everyone gathered around the table, taking a plate and a selection of eatables. I wasn't feeling hungry, and so I sat down on the stool by the grand piano at the far end of the room and just observed. The lid was open, and I ran my fingers silently over the keys, recalling lessons I'd taken in my youth. For the time being everyone seemed peaceable enough.

But it didn't last.

Mum sat down in a high-backed chair placed near one of the fires, and made a point of calling for a muffler for her ankles as the dogs were ousted from their usual positions. She then seemed to decide it was time to put Buffy to the Question.

"So, Miss Summers, how does it feel to be the longest surviving Slayer for many years?"

Buffy hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of something. "Er... good?"

"Of course, you're not *the* Slayer anymore are you? Haven't been for sometime, I recall. But the official incumbent being sadly detained for her misdemeanours, the job might as well be yours. Do you enjoy your work?"

Before Buffy could answer, Rupert stepped in, much to his Slayer's obvious relief. "Buffy is *the* Slayer to all intents and purposes, Dorothy. She guards the Hellmouth and has saved the world many times over."

"Oh, indeed," said my mother, nodding. "It was not my intention to impugn the upstanding quality of your charge, Giles. You have done remarkably well with her for all her wilfulness, as my late husband often remarked. Such a shame for him that Wesley couldn't do as well with his." I tensed, accidentally playing a discordant note, but Mum ignored this and addressed Buffy again. "What was your opinion of my son as a Watcher, young lady?"

She appeared immediately panicked. "I, er, um, Wes was... er... "

Rupert tried to cover again. "Wesley was rather thrown in at the deep end, Dorothy. I would defy anyone to do well in the circumstances in which he found himself."

My mother ignored him and continued to look to Buffy for her answer. The atmosphere in the room was frozen. Buffy said weakly, "Could do better?"

Mum nodded, satisfied. "Could have done a lot better, we thought. John was very disappointed in his son's lacklustre performance in the role he had been groomed for since birth."

Suddenly everyone was looking at me. I realised I had slammed the piano lid shut with a bang. Lilah strode towards me, concerned and angry on my behalf. She said loudly,

"As if Watchers were not as antiquated and unnecessary as everything else in this damn house."

That was, of course, heresy.

I could see my mother girding up for a thunderous comeback when we were, quite literally, saved by the bell. The Angel Investigations crowd had arrived.

I grabbed Lilah's hand and almost ran from the room.

Shutting the door tightly behind us, I remarked, "If I make it to the wedding sane, it will be some kind of miracle."

Lilah stopped me walking, and combed her fingers through my hair, generally combining preening my appearance with giving me comfort. "And they call me evil," she muttered. "That woman would be a match for a Klazak demon."

I looked at her earnestly. "I know, my love. I *know* what she's like. But please, for my sake, just let it all slide harmlessly over you."

She smiled wryly, and moved her flattened hand over her head in a gesture. "Water. Duck. Back. Got it." I kissed her gratefully and would have taken longer over it, but she pulled away. "Door, remember?" she grinned.

By the time we had reached the door, Miss Benton had opened it, and was talking to Charles Gunn over the threshold. I'd never seen Gunn look more out of place, and as I hurried to intercept, I heard him say, "Lady, I'm not here to deliver anything but wedding guests. You want them dropped off around the back then..."

"Charles!" I said, interposing myself between the housekeeper and my friend. "Well done for finding the place." Miss Benton sniffed audibly and retreated back into the house. I smiled in apology to Gunn.

He said, "Wes. Glad to see you. They never seen a black man here before or something?"

"Perhaps not in person," I admitted. "Not often, anyway. I'm most terribly sorry. Will you come in?"

"Nah, Me and Fred got a hotel booked. We're gonna see the sights. We'll be back for Saturday though, no worries," he grinned, relaxing a little. "Got a flammable package in the car, you ready for it?"

Lilah passed Gunn an umbrella from the stand. "Use this, it seemed to do the trick for Spike."

Gunn looked at the object, rather than at Lilah, whose presence he remained uncomfortable in. "That works," he nodded, and crunched over the wet gravel to where the rental car was parked.

A few minutes later, Angel was hurrying towards us under the open umbrella, Connor right behind him. We stepped hurriedly aside to let them enter and I said, "I invite you in, Angel," so that he could.

The pair tumbled in, followed just a little later by Lorne, who didn't seem too impressed by the rain falling on his lavender coloured suit. "Now I understand, crumpet, why everyone that hails from this part of the world is so morose," he said to me as he hustled through the door. I shut it behind him after exchanging a wave with Gunn before he drove off.

I turned and discovered my fiancée was deliberately inflicting a hug on Angel. "Hello Daddy," she said.

The vampire endured the embrace for a fraction of a second before pushing her away. "When I agreed to give you away for your wedding, Lilah, it was more in a sense of 'please, take her', than a desire to become the father of the bane of my unlife."

"You love me really," she smirked. "And anyway, what the hell have I done to you lately? Turning you dark really isn't worth the resulting domestic strife." She grinned towards me.

"Just hope the Senior Partners agree with you," Angel replied dourly.

I turned to Connor. "What do you think of England then?" I asked. He'd been keen to see Holtz's homeland with his own eyes.

"I like it. It's very green and soft."

"Soft?" I inquired, genuinely interested.

He considered what he meant. "Rounded, no hard edges or bright lights."

I nodded approvingly. "That's very perceptive, Connor. I'll take you for a walk through the grounds tomorrow, if you'd like."

"I would like that, Wesley. Thank you."

I smiled warmly at the boy, but when I looked around at our latest arrivals, my smile faded. "I suppose we better join the others in the drawing room."

"And see who murdered who with the rope in the conservatory?" Lorne asked.

I gave him a look that was more than a little sour. "That isn't far enough from the truth to be funny."

The demon looked carefully at me. "Things a little tense in chez Wesley?"

Lilah took it upon herself to answer. "Let me put it this way for those that were there. If you thought Mr Oddbody was bad, well, my future mother-in-law could've taken him with her hands tied."

I really couldn't be bothered to correct her and started walking back towards the Gainsborough room, presuming everyone would follow. I felt a supportive pat on my back as I walked, and smiled crookedly at Angel.

The two of us were doing a pretty good impression of being friends again, although I was never certain how deep the good will actually went. After the events of the Hydra conspiracy were fully put to rest, he had asked me to rejoin Angel Investigations. I had felt obliged to refuse as I knew by then that Lilah was going to sign the new contact she had been offered and take over Wolfram and Hart in LA. As I had no intention of ever leaving her, I couldn't see how I could, in fairness, rejoin Angel's crusade.

Instead, I had set up my own small consultancy firm as a kind of neutral ground between the two. I offered research and investigation into matters arcane and mysterious. After a month or so, I had found I was working almost as often along side Angel and the crew as I had when actually employed there. But I also took on work from Wolfram and Hart, when it didn't offend me morally, as well as independent clients.

The introductions in the drawing room didn't go quite as badly as I had feared, and people milled about chatting sociably. Mother insisted on calling Angel 'Angelus', but he suffered that in silence. Dawn and Connor, much to my surprise, had an instant antagonism for one another, but they kept it subdued. Everyone who didn't know him seemed initially perturbed at Lorne's appearance, however he won most of them over with his warm and gentle charm. Even my mother was smiling fondly at him eventually.

Spike remained on his best behaviour throughout, for which I was exceedingly grateful. I knew how difficult it must have been for him, seeing Angel. I did notice that his hand kept returning to the topaz on the cord around his neck, but considering how often I was finding myself circling my three-banded ring around my finger, I could hardly criticise him for that. I knew he was unhappy and probably about more than one thing, and I wanted very much to talk with him at length. But that would have to be later.

I retired to a quiet corner and kept myself supplied with whisky from the nearby decanter, trying to force myself to relax. After a while, I had succeeded to the degree that I didn't visibly wince every time Mum said my father's name. Poor Rupert -- what had I done to him, inviting him here? What had I done to all of us?

I was beginning to think that running away to Gretna Green, or better still, Vegas, would have been a very good idea indeed.

 

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