Chapter Nine
----====Spike====----
Connor had persuaded his father to take him to 'a real English tavern' like he'd heard about, and they'd walked down to the local pub for a pint after dinner. I'd have been tempted to go and get the talk with Peaches over with, but I couldn't put the innocent bystanders at the bar at risk, and it wasn't a talk I could have had in front of the nephew/uncle.
Dawn was miffed that Buffy had decided the Bit had to stick to the US rules on drinking, unlike the more sensible and far looser English ones. Accordingly, she'd disappeared into the kitchen and its dogs where I couldn't follow. This was probably a good thing as she'd not been happy that 'Mr Hypocrite' here had backed up Buffy on the going down the pub thing. I had to back her up, even if I thought she was wrong, as Dawn had tried to play one of us against the other before and we'd agreed to support each other in all things, but especially Dawn.
Buffy was taking a 'go through my wedding outfit without The Boyfriend seeing it' session. It was so nice hearing her call me that that I didn't mind leaving her to play with the vast amount of clothing choices she'd brought with her. I couldn't be much help - she'd look like an empress to me if she wore burlap. Also it seemed that she needed to decompress after her chat with Wes, away from both of us - though I preferred the mental picture of her trying on pretty dresses.
I'd just been for a drop of fresh air by the lake and a chat with Lorne. Nice bloke, if a bit camp. I'd needed the chat and the air though. Buffy and Wes had had a long chat-stroke-issues out in the open to heal session with yours truly as umpire - not fun, but the two of them seemed happier and better able to tolerate each other's company by the end, which should make my life easier. But it was draining, and when they'd both gone I'd headed off to clear my head. Lorne joined me - seemed to know I needed a break so he didn't push much. We'd got back to the house and he left to go to his room to go over the ritual for the wedding.
I was walking past the parlour when the lure of the fire drew me in. Lilah had curled up in one of the overstuffed chairs and was talking to Anya. I went to leave to avoid disturbing them, but they practically ordered me in - no, it was these two, it was definitely an order.
I sat down and Lilah handed me a glass of wine. "Spike, you can help me with this," pointing to the bottle. I noticed it was one of the ones Wes's dad had denied he was worthy of.
I smiled at her, "Nice one, pet. Will do, with pleasure."
Anya picked up her fruit juice and sniffed, "It's not fair. For centuries pregnant women have been drinking wine, spirits and beer as the healthy choice, and now I can't have the Chateau Petrus. Since the books say I have to give up caffeine and alcohol I will. But it's still not fair."
"Worth it though, pet?" I said.
"Oh yes," she replied.
I asked, "Where's Giles?"
She looked a little distant. "I sent him upstairs to rest."
"Good for him," I said. I turned to Lilah. "Where's Wes, pet?"
"Going through some estate papers with his mother."
"Doesn't need the legal expert casting an eye over then, luv?"
She smirked. "Already done and don't tell him. Somebody has to look after his interests."
"They do. He ain't always so good at doing it himself, is he?" I replied.
"Neither is Rupert," Anya interjected.
"White hat syndrome, I reckon. Patient shows a reckless lack of consideration for their own neck for the sake of others. 'Course, we've all done the same, and I'm not sure we qualify as a white hat. Dunno, maybe we do?"
Lilah looked horrified and took a long gulp of her claret. "Take.That. Back! I am not a white hat!"
"Nice fetching shade of grey, luv?"
She spluttered, "Black! Ever fashionable black."
Anya looked at her and said, "It starts that way. First it's the constant phone calls and the concern for your welfare, then they start plying you with kisses and kindness and some really satisfying fights, and then it's mind-blowing sex and marriage and you want to keep them safe always, and boom, sooner or later you save the world. It's insidious."
Lilah and I looked at each other. Didn't sound like anything we knew. Anya saw it and then shrugged. "Alternately, it's the great sex, and you find yourself looking out for them, and then sooner or later you save the world. I've done that pattern too."
I laughed, "Yeah, and sometimes you do it for love even when you're evil."
Lilah sipped her glass and said, "That works. It shouldn't, but it does."
I said, "Tell me about it. Couple of years ago, if anyone had told me that I'd be in love with the Slayer and got myself my soul back, I'd have eaten them after letting Dru play with 'em for a bit. Let alone be best mates with two Watchers, let alone Best Man for one of 'em."
Anya said, "Well, I'm having a baby with the man whose alternate universe version destroyed my powers. Which makes me happy now, of course."
Lilah sipped her wine and said, "I'm supposed to be laundering money, trafficking demonic artefacts, and organising the paperwork of the apocalypse. And I'm stopping myself from having the Wicked Witch of Shropshire offed - for him. It makes no sense."
"Love, pet; it's the most powerful force in the universe, and I've seen a few," I said, sipping my wine.
"And the one you can't buy," Anya said.
Lilah nodded. "Which is a shame, but I guess we're all stuck with it, and them." The gleam in her eye and the unconscious shimmy further into the chair belied the harshness of her words.
I refilled my glass and hers. "But they're worth it."
She smiled and nodded.
I said, "I've been reading up on who does the speeches at weddings and even if this isn't appropriate for the Best Man's speech tomorrow, I can do this now. "To our white hats, who we love, and who need us to look after them when they're too damned bloody noble to do it themselves!"
Anya picked up her glass of juice. Lilah raised her glass, and the three of us clinked the glasses together, saying, "Rupert", "Buffy," and "Wes."
"Wes isn't too happy to be home, and who'd blame him," I said.
"Not me, "Anya said. "A father like that leads to lots of work for Hallie. Even if it never helps in the end."
"That bloody portrait in the dining room don't help, you know?" I said.
"I hate it," Lilah said with absolute honesty.
"It's hurting Rupert too," Anya said. "Sitting there on the wall glowering at everyone he tried to destroy, including me and my husband."
"Having to look at that bastard over dinner," Lilah snarled, "it's not good for Wes."
Anya looked into her glass. "Wes's dad is still here, you know. Still torturing Rupert." When Lilah and I made question-noises, she added, "Evil, evil bastard. He was so powerful that he won't actually go away. He won't let Rupert sleep a whole night, what with the nightmares and the memories of the bastard almost killing me, and while we've been here, Rupert's been having terrible flashbacks." She stopped, then said, "I just want Rupert to stop hurting. And I wasn't supposed to tell you any of that, Spike."
I felt like shit. I've always prided myself on being the noticing sort. Giles had become one of my best mates, but I'd completely missed this. My own fault I supposed, since I'd been so caught up in everything, but especially Buffy. Well, I knew now. And I fully intended to sort it. I had a good think and a deep gulp of wine. I'm not the big magic user, but I know some and I knew how symbols can be used. That portrait dominated the room like that complete bastard had dominated my friend's life. Even if it wasn't the focus of the power Anya mentioned, destroying the thing could only help.
"You know, pyromania is grossly under-rated," I mused.
Lilah looked at Anya and said, "You never under-rated fire, did you?"
Anya looked into the fire. "One of my 'all time greatest hits', but how do you know about it?"
Lilah smirked, "We have a very efficient Files and Records system." She looked at both of us. "What? Did anyone seriously think I wasn't going to investigate the backgrounds of the people in my husband-to-be's life? And a most interesting collection of stories they are too. Lots of possibilities... for the future. But, Anyanka, that one impressed even me."
I took a swig of my wine. "Anya - share with the rest of the class."
She took a deep breath like she was in pain. "Ok. The Great Fire of London - it was one of mine. Woman scorned for a bread oven, never pretty. Though the fire was, and almost nobody died - which is why it didn't make my all time Top Ten in the Arashmahar Hall of Fame." This Londoner looked at her and she continued, "Ok the City burnt down, but they did get a new Cathedral out of it, and no more plague - so pretty much everyone except the baker and his wife benefited in the end. But it doesn't matter. It was wrong, I feel that now, but I can't put out the flames that have already happened."
"Yeah, flames...." I sighed. I could see the flames of Peking, the temples, Dru and the carnage in my mind's eye. The demon felt all warm and snug in the memories of blood and passion. The man felt sick. I shook my head and felt the topaz, and it helped.
I'd realised by now that I might always need the topaz and the rest of the chanty bits to keep the balance. Giles was right, I couldn't reach one point and stop, it was a work in progress and always would be. But, compared to freezing my butt off up a mountain in Africa, the chanty bits and obligatory jewellery choices I was stuck with were small prices to pay for the warmth I had now.
I forced myself back into the parlour and the problem in hand. "Speaking of pretty flames, that portrait really does have to go. Wes'll never do it himself, not an' hurt his mum, but - don't mean his friends can't take care of the problem for him. Might be the source of the presence haunting Rupes too. Hey! Two problems; one solution - nice little bonfire... maybe some marshmallows."
Lilah smiled. "William, I like the way you think."
"Up for it then, luv?"
"Oh yes," she smirked. "Always."
"Anya?" I asked.
"Oh yes, but not the heavy lifting."
I rushed to say, "Of course not, pet, not in your condition - never in a month of Sundays!"
She grinned, "I'll go to the kitchen for the marshmallows though. But don't start the burning without me!"
"No worries, pet." I grinned back at her. I turned to Lilah, "Ready, luv?" She grinned back and we all put our glasses down on the table.
Anya headed off to the kitchen while Lilah and I walked into the fortunately empty dining room. I picked up one of the heavy chairs and stood on it to unhook the frame from the wall. I got it done, and Lilah steadied the picture as we settled it on the floor so I could climb down. The weight wasn't a problem with vampire strength, but the size was so Lilah took one end to steady it as I took the bulk of the lifting.
Between the two of us, we got it back to the parlour.
Lilah grinned at me as I started to break the frame so we could fit the whole thing into the fireplace. I turned the frame to kindling and freed the canvas.
"Better to be safe than sorry and burn the lot, eh Lilah?"
She looked at me, "Yes. I'm only going to say this once, Spike. While I remain in charge of my region of Wolfram and Hart, you can consider yourself safe from their activities. Staff turnover can be rapid however, so don't get too relaxed."
I said, "Appreciated, luv, and in my line of work and choice of home, I might not be the best long term best bet anyway. Besides, it's good to have a brother-in-law, or sister-in-law in this case, to talk to about loving the white-hat, isn't it?"
She nodded and picked up her glass. Anya arrived with the marshmallows. She put them on the toasting fork among the fire-irons, and I threw the portrait and bits of frame on the flames.
As John Wyndam-Pryce's face burned, the woman he'd hurt cooked the marshmallows over the pyre, as his daughter-in-law to be and his son's vampire brother raised their glasses.