Waiting on a Friend - Part Twelve - The Preparations

 

DISCLAIMER: The title references a Jagger/Richards classic, which also appears in part A of Installment 12. Also making a brief appearance here is that Jam classic 'That's Entertainment'.
NOTES AND SUMMARY: When last we left our heroes: Dawn made a cool Door in the Thames, and Anya and Buffy got Giles and Spike out from Below. Recriminations, then make-up sex and pre-wedding contracts, ensued. Dawn and Wes just had a popcorn fight, though.

They were almost out of the chaos and insanity. Just a few more steps to freedom, he thought--

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Wesley and Dawn looked at each other: damn, busted by Buffy. Sighing, they turned to face one seriously annoyed Slayer at the other end of the corridor, her hands on her hips and the "I am so gonna kill you in a non-fatal way" look on her face. "Hey," Dawn said feebly. "We were just going to take a walk. Now the river's not chewing people, we thought it'd be nice to go over and appreciate it."

Wes felt honour-bound to support his co-conspirator, but all that came out of his mouth was "That's right, Buffy." He didn't think the truth-- "Dawn was escaping from your Bitch-General routine, and if I have to spend one more minute with Spike and Giles I'm going to get a bad case of secondhand testosterone-poisoning" --would be received well.

"Hah. We're leaving for the registry office in forty-five minutes, and you two have jobs to do." She pointed the Finger of Death at them. "Dawn, Anya needs you to help her sort the stuff for the demon ceremony. Wesley, you take the phone. Anya's expecting a check-in call from Jez, who's doing the party catering, and you just need to inform us if there are any problems; I expect you to supervise the groom and best man while you wait." She threw him the cordless, then said, "MOVE."

Together the two of them trudged back up the stairs. Wesley said disconsolately, "I knew I shouldn't have gotten dressed so early. I could have hidden in my room longer."

"I know. We're so idiots. If Buffy gives me one more order, then pow... that's all I can say." Dawn patted his arm. "But at least we look nice." She turned off on the first floor to go to the master bedroom, Anya's base of operations. God, he already could hear the music from upstairs. "See you in a few, big guy."

"Promise?" Wes said, then went on up. Spike's and Buffy's room had been designated the groom's quarters for the day. As soon as he reached the hallway, he was assaulted by the sound of the guest-room stereo, and Giles and Spike howling along with the Jam's 'That's Entertainment'.

He pushed open the door and immediately was engulfed in cigarette smoke. Both Spike and Giles were singing, puffing on fags, and trying to fix their ties simultaneously. The mirror-challenged one was in danger of strangulation, Wes thought, or at least the blond git would be if he actually had to breathe.

"That's entertainment, that's entertainment, lalala," Spike sort of gargled, then coughed. "Hey, Wes. You're a wanker who personally chooses to wear these instruments of torture-- fix this!"

Giles smacked Spike in the back of the head. "Stop it at once, you're doing that deliberately. And how did your tie get so bloody wrecked anyway? Before you ran the iron over it, looked like it'd been crumpled up and danced on."

A frightening twinkle appeared in Spike's eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak. Wes was somehow afraid of what might come out, so he laid hands on the tie and started to work on the knot. If his knuckle happened to dig painfully into Spike's Adam's apple at the same time, that was of course an accident.

While Spike choked, Giles walked over to a full-length mirror and inspected himself: grey suit, blue shirt, tie a different shade of blue, just like Spike's. Wes thought Rupert looked fine, although-- "Giles? Didn't you tell us Monday that you weren't allowed to smoke?"

Giles, messing with his hair, replied, "Anya said I could today if I got nervous."

Spike pulled away from Wesley's ministrations, growling, "'Course you're NOT nervous, old man, you just wanted a fag." Wes thought Giles' answering grin was positively evil. Spike then tapped Wesley on the shoulder. "Oi! Don't ever knuckle me in the throat again, mate. Remember I'm a vampire and could bleed you out before you could say 'Oh dear me, sorry'."

As Dawn would say: pah-leeze. "But you wouldn't, Spike."

"No, I wouldn't, but I could. And the only reason I don't is--" Spike inhaled, and then he and Giles chorused, "I have a conscience!" Then the idiots fell about laughing for no apparent reason, as they'd been doing all day.

Wesley had never been so glad to hear the phone ring in his life. He stepped out into the hall, away from the madmen, and clicked on. "Giles residence, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce speaking."

A smooth, cold female voice said, "How lucky to have gotten the person I wanted, first time."

"Lilah."

"Wesley." There was a pause. He could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, even over the Rolling Stones now blasting from the room and the sound of deep-voiced laughter. "I won't forget what you did to me. Wolfram and Hart won't forget."

"But what did I do? Unless your firm is angry about the lack of slaughter, of course."

Another pause. He tried very hard not to think about silk and fragrant skin and a stocking that bound pale, delicate wrists. She said, "All right then. I won't forget."

"I will." A hiss came over the line, and he said quickly, "Sorry, my family's in a bit of an uproar, and I'm expecting another call. Goodbye, Lilah. Have a safe trip home."

Wesley thought he was fine. He really did. When he walked back in, he even achieved a Wesley-wince at the two of them, heads together like demented versions of Sinatra and Dean Martin in (say) '59, smoke curling around them as they crooned along with Mick. But then Giles and Spike put down their cigarettes and stared at him. For the first time Wesley could see a bizarre resemblance between them: identical brow-furrowing, identical kindness in blue eyes.

They sprung into action. Giles came over, took the phone out of his hand, and tossed it to Spike. "What happened, mate? Who was it?"

"Nobody. That Wolfram and Hart lawyer I told you about." The fact that he really HAD told them still amazed him, he thought in passing. "A nuisance call, nothing worse."

Spike said, "Oh bloody hell, man, sorry. Look, you need the phone for something else?" As Wes muttered something about Anya and the caterer, Spike said, "Right, I'll ring him. Been wanting a natter with ol' Jez anyway, be too busy at the party." He strolled out into the hallway, phone in hand.

Wes could feel Giles studying him, and he sought some distraction from the scrutiny; he was so tired of being found wanting. Jagger was singing something, oh yes, that song that didn't sound like the Stones at all: "I'm not waiting on a lady, I'm just waiting on a friend--"

Giles pushed him into a convenient chair. "Now that we've gotten rid of the little wanker, you can help me. I need to practice my demon-vows. Hate to mispronounce 'love and cherish' in Arashmaharr, you know, I refuse to upset Anyanka." Wesley knew for a fact that Giles and Spike had spent an hour this morning rehearsing those very words, but he was warmed by the lie.

He was warmed by family.

***

Dawn looked at Anya and sighed. It warmed her from tip to toe, the glow on Anyanka's face and the confidence in her "Do I look pretty for Rupert?" as she posed for maximum effect.

"You look amazing, Anya." And she did, Dawn thought. Nothing like the hideous stuff she'd put together for the Wedding that Wasn't. Anya had chosen a lovely cream sheath for herself, all elegant and classic- sexy. She was wearing some serious rubies, too, and a majorly awesome ring already. In fact, if Dawn had to describe her, she'd just say that Anya looked like Giles's match. Cool grown-up.

Especially cool since Anya had let her and Buffy arrange their own clothes, since it wasn't going to be fancy or anything at the wedding or the dinner dance. Dawn felt kinda Audrey Hepburn in her own blue cashmere outfit.

It almost made up for the-- thing-- she was going to have to do during the demon ceremony. Gack.

Anya picked up the schedule for the day, her eyes skimming the words on the page. "Okay, is there anything we left out?"

"No." Dawn peeked back into the special silk-lined cedar box they'd prepared, then shuddered. "All here." Closing the lid, she said, "Why didn't you do this, um, the first time? The demon thing?"

"Why do you think?" Anya said briskly. "Because I was going to marry a man who didn't accept who I was, who twitched every time I mentioned my past. Let me tell you something, Dawnie-- when you find a wonderful man whom you could trust to tell that you started off as green glowy non-humanness, you hold onto him. Nothing's worth hiding yourself." She looked at the list again. "Did anyone check on the flowers for the dinner?"

"Buffy did," Dawn said. Then she hesitated. Putting down the box, she went over to Anya and carefully put her arms around her. She needed to say something that was going to sound weird, but-- "Thank you for being you, Anya."

Anya's eyes went all misty brown, and she hugged Dawn back. "Thank you for growing up so well, Dawn. And I appreciate that you're willing to perform the traditional first-maid's task."

"I'm happy to do it," Dawn said sincerely. Anya was teaching her so much, what was a little gack? And maybe she'd get some nice lessons in high-finance out of the deal.

A cranky voice interrupted, "You may be the first-maid, sister, but you're not the best man's date, and don't you forget it." Buffy hopped in from the hallway, and she had definite shoe-issues, one heel on, one heel not quite making it. She shoved that foot into the recalcitrant pump, then muttered, "Damn it."

"Don't be silly, Buffy," Anya said. "Spike's tasks are for the human ceremony only; Dawn's are to help me in front of the Arashmaharr witnesses. Not the same thing at all."

"Sure, sure." Buffy stopped the grouch-fest and looked at the two of them, really looked. Then she came over and put her arms around them, pulling them close. "You're beautiful, Anya. You too, Dawnie."

Adding to the whole unreality vibe, Dawn thought, was that Anya just kissed Buffy's cheek and said, "Thank you for organizing the troops while I got dressed. And you look gorgeous too, even without the proper amount of preparation time."

Buffy grinned, then grabbed onto both of them. "So are we ready?"

"I bloody well am. And look at the lovelies on display in here," Spike said from the doorway. The women turned, and Dawn gave a little sigh. He was so polished and-- well, Buffy breathed "Oh.My.God" and hurled herself at him.

He caught Buffy at arm's length, then surveyed her with that heavy-lidded, melting stare that Dawn secretly thought he should patent or something. Some day maybe a guy would fall in love with her, and she'd bring him to Spike and instruct her big brother to teach the guy how to do that. Of course Spike most likely would vamp out and threaten the guy into leaving her forever, and then she'd die unloved and alone. So maybe she'd just enjoy it when he stared at Buffy. He said, "My Queen," and brought Buffy's hand to his lips in an elegant sweep, just like in the old movies she watched with Wesley.

"That's very prettily done, Spike," Anya said. Buffy was clearly too swoony to say anything. "Now what's the word from upstairs?"

"Heard from Jez-- three o'clock and all's well in Catering Land. And I've had to stop Giles from coming down here at least fifteen bloody times, Dad has no sense of occasion a'tall--"

On cue, footsteps pounded down the stairs. "It's time to go at last," Giles called, then appeared behind Spike in the doorway. Dawn couldn't help but mist over at the expression on his face when he saw Anya: totally wonder and pride and love. Beside her, Anya got all joyful-trembly.

Spike slid out of the way so Giles could rush in, steal a kiss and take Anya's hands. "You ready, wife?" he said, which Dawn thought made no sense. They were going to GET married, right?

"More than ready, husband," she said, and pulled him toward the door. Spike grabbed Buffy's hand and followed.

Just for a second, Dawn felt abandoned. This was the disadvantage of living with a happy-couple family, she thought. Then Wesley stuck his head around the door. "Are you coming, Dawn, or do I have to be first-maid?"

Saved by Wesley, as usual. She danced over and took his arm. They had a wedding to get to.

 

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