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What a Mother Wouldn't Do	By : QueenB Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Giles Views: 5213 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Buffy smoothed down the dress, willing her heart to stop racing. In a moment, she would get out of the limo along with her father and walk down the long white thin sheeting laid on the grass in back of one of Sunnydale’s many churches. Waiting at the other end of that carpet was the man she’d sworn to dedicate the rest of her life to.
It was ridiculous. She and Giles were already married and had been for weeks. This new wedding shouldn’t affect her like this. But the first had been a hurried ceremony, the aftermath interrupted by her father’s untimely visit. The reality of marriage hadn’t had time to sink in for her. But the grandeur of this elaborate show, the presence of her friends who were like a second family to her was causing the gravity of it to hit her in a way the blandness of the civil service hadn’t. That had been like getting your driver’s license renewed. This was like a blessing--from the Pope.
Her stomach gave an ominous rumble and Buffy prayed that her morning sickness, thankfully absent for many days, wouldn’t make a reappearance. She could pass it off as just nervousness. But it would still make a mess of the car and her dress and wouldn’t that be a fine way to start her new wedding?
Her father noted her unease and patted her hand. “It’s okay, honey. I was nervous, too, when I married your mother. On the other hand, she looked so calm as if nothing could go wrong. She didn’t tell me until years later how terrified she was that the flop sweats she was experiencing were going to stain her dress. She had to stuff wads of tissue paper under her armpits to keep it from soaking into the material.”
“Dad, you are so not helping.”
“Sorry, sweetie. It’s just strange, you know? Every father longs to see himself giving his little girl away. I’m just thrown by the circumstances.” He waved his hand around to indicate how spun he was by it all.
“I know.” She squeezed his hand and smiled at the four girls opposite her in the limo. Willow, Dawn, Cathy and Anya were all scrunched together and mindful of their clothes, determined to keep them from wrinkling. Their dresses were just above the knees yet tasteful and becoming. Instead of loud, shiny fabrics or bland pastels, they’d picked their matching dresses out a catalog. They were all dressed in pale, creamy pinks with sprigs of daisies embroidered on them. The dresses were sleeveless and perfectly complemented by the wrist-length gloves each of them wore. There wasn’t even a hint of puffy sleeves or hideous bows.
The redhead’s natural ebullience had done a lot towards breaking down the layer of ice that existed between Dawn and Hank’s second wife. Cathy’s youth had also helped since it made her closer to Dawn’s age and therefore able to relate to some of the things that annoyed the younger girl. The three had bonded splendidly in the past few weeks and the trio chattered with enthusiasm all the way to the wedding site.
But Anya wore a strained air that no amount of cajoling had been able to dispel. Buffy didn’t have the details but she was sure that all was still not quite right on the Xander-and-Anya front. Anya no longer spoke about sex between her and the dark-haired man and that meant they weren’t having any. Without sexual contact to ensure her things were working, the ex-demon exuded a tension that went poorly with everybody else’s anticipation.
There had been a hurried debate among the Scooby inner circle about whether to include the ex-demon in the festivities now that Buffy’s father had shown up. But, when Anya had learned she might not be welcome even though Xander was allowed to come, she had done a swift about-face and demanded to attend. Her argument was that she was just as much a member of Buffy’s extended family as Xander and, if he was going, she could damn well be included. She was also of the opinion that seeing a happily concluded marriage might make him more receptive to making up with her in the future.
However, Mr. Summers and his new wife were bound to notice her bizarre speech and they weren’t about to tell him about her non-human background. By mutual consent, all the Scoobies had agreed to keep them both in the dark about the Hellmouth and its various demon-y denizens. They’d be leaving soon anyway; why make things more complicated than they had to be?
But having Anya around Buffy’s father and his new bride had proved to be a trial. They’d explained to her how they were to be kept in the dark, a decision she didn’t really get. But she’d fallen in their wishes and tried to hold her tongue around Mr. Summers and Mrs. Summers. She didn’t always succeed and the others found themselves scrambling to cover up her verbal slips.
The limo door opened and Buffy was startled out of her reverie. “Oh god. Are we here already?”
“Relax, honey. It’s not like this is the first time you’re getting married. It’s got to be easier the second time around.”
Buffy paused, squinching her brows at her dense dad. “Like it was for you and Cathy?”
The man flushed. “Uh, well. Look, we’re here! Time to get out, Buffy. Ready, girls?”
Willow, Dawn and Cathy beamed at him while Anya stared pointedly out the window. They clutched their bouquets of carnations and orange blossoms and traipsed out after the nervous bride and her father.
Giles fidgeted, standing impatiently with Xander at his side. He’d always found the continual, unending sunshine of the Hellmouth to be rather wearisome. Day after day of bland good weather as if nature were doing its damnedest to ignore the horror lay under the cheery façade of Sunnydale--it was enough to drive any rational person utterly insane.
But now he caught his breath at the sight that appeared out of the limo. She was a heavenly dream in white and his heart lurched and stood still as he watched her float down the aisle, her arm loosely held in her father’s.
Holding this ceremony in the open had been the right decision, after all. If he’d done this indoors, he’d have missed the sun turning Buffy’s hair to radiant gold, the strands swept up at the top of her head and spilling in elegant curls down past her ears. He wouldn’t have seen her dress as a spotless band of light or the sparkle of green eyes staring into his own.
Xander nudged him just a little. “G-Man, breathe before you pass out.”
“Huh? What?” He blinked hard. It was unsettling to be reminded of other people; the moment had possessed an intimate quality that seemed to shut out the world.
“Your face was turning really red and I couldn’t hear you breathing at all. Another minute and you were going to topple over.”
“T-thank you, Xander.” Giles took a deep, steadying breath and experienced a slight dizziness with the inrush of air. The man was right; he’d been dangerously close to losing consciousness because he’d been consumed by the vision approaching him--a vision that was standing by his side and looking up into his face with those startling, changeable eyes.
Buffy barely heard the words of the man speaking to Giles. Her mind was spinning with the bliss of this moment and caught up in thoughts of the recent past. Technically, they’d been married for almost three weeks. Between that moment and this had been days of frantic preparation as they booked caterers, sent out for decorations, hired a band and sent out wedding invitations to their various far-flung family members. Willow had managed to track down her errant parents and insisted they drop whatever seminar they were attending and come to her best girlfriend’s wedding.
The gang from Los Angeles had managed to make time to attend although they were jetting straight back to the big city the moment night fell. Buffy had been surprised to see how altered Wesley looked, his face grimmer and sterner than she recalled, his throat marred by a hideous scar that ran from one side to the other. He didn’t offer any explanation beyond saying he’d been attacked and Buffy thought it best not to ask. She wanted nothing to spoil this perfect day.
Angel hadn’t been seen since two nights before the wedding when he’d dropped in to wish Buffy well. He’d clasped her hand before asking whether she was happy. She’d assured him that Giles was the one for her. It had taken her years to see it but she was finally going to get that future he’d wanted for her. Something had flickered in the vampire’s dark eyes when she mentioned that but as usual his thoughts were hidden from her. Then cool lips brushed her cheek fleetingly and he’d melted away into the darkness.
Naturally, he was nowhere to be seen on this exquisitely sunny day and Buffy wasn’t thinking about him anyway. She was thinking about the tall, green-eyed man who was looking at her while the minister prompted him to make his responses.
Afterwards Giles couldn’t have told you the details of the ceremony if his life had depended on it. He said the required words like a man in a dream, taking the rings from Xander without looking at the man and slipping Buffy’s onto her finger. The three-diamond band was now joined with a band of brushed gold surmounted with a darkened emerald in the shape of a heart. He’d told Buffy how it had belonged to his great-grandmother and was considered a family heirloom. After his mother had met Buffy, she’d given the ring to Giles and whispered that she thoroughly approved of his choice. Buffy’s American background and her considerably younger years hadn’t mattered one jot to her and Giles was grateful all over again for his mother’s kindness and sensitivity.
His father hadn’t come. Affairs of the Council had required his attentions and that was business as usual. Giles really hadn’t expected it so he’d been safe in extending an invitation to him. His mother could be forceful in getting what she wanted but she’d learned long ago that Council issues always came first in her husband’s life and had ceased to pressure him to place his family in greater importance.
Secretly, Giles felt she’d actually preferred things thus since this way she’d had her son mostly to herself. Giles’s father had drilled into him a sense of duty but his mother had won his love and devotion. What mother didn’t crave that from an only son?
The couple clasped hands and walked down the carpeted grass as the guests threw showers of rice at them. The rest of the country may have frowned on the practice due to the effect on pigeons. But the denizens of Sunnydale were as oblivious to that concern as they were to everything else dire on the Hellmouth.
They sat at the tables and murmured to each other, pausing only to greet and accept congratulations from the members of the assembly. Giles caught her tweaking at the arm of her dress. “Buffy? What is it? Why do you keep plucking at your sleeve?”
“I’m not plucking. I’m pinching myself. See? Pinching.” She did it again and smiled.
“It’s not a dream, love. And, if you’re going to pinch anything, I’d rather I was the lucky recipient of your attentions.” The whispered words were accompanied by a sly look and Buffy blushed. Then she flashed him a naughty grin and reached behind his chair to grab a bit of his butt.
Xander witnessed this exchange from a distance. “What do you think that’s all about?” he murmured to Dawn.
“I’d say Giles has just made a sexual innuendo to Buffy and, judging by the way he jumped, she’s squeezed him on a portion of his anatomy. Since the table’s in the way, she could have grabbed his crotch--no, her hand went behind his body--so I’m guessing it was his butt,” Anya answered in her usual fashion.
“Butt squeezing in the open. That’s romantic--in an ‘ewww’ sort of way, I guess,” Dawn replied. “I’m just hoping they leave the more gross PDAs for later.” Her eyes darted away from her sister making a spectacle of herself and searched the crowd. She’d chatted up a rather cute boy earlier. He was a distant cousin of Willow’s, which had surprised her no end.
Looking over the assorted crowd of relatives, in-laws, friends and significant others brought in by the RSVPs that stated the invitee could bring along three other people, she realized there were a lot of folks whose lives belonged to the other members of Buffy’s group. Other than her dad, who did Dawn have?
Then she looked at Willow, blushing and chatting animatedly with an unknown English blonde girl on the groom’s side. The girl had caught Willow’s eye and set her purse on the seat beside her, waving off everybody else who tried to sit there. Finally the redheaded Scooby had taken the hint and drifted over to her. They’d been talking ever since then.
Wesley watched all this from the sidelines. Angel had wanted to come to Sunnydale alone but Wesley thought it best to keep an eye on him. He didn’t entirely trust the vampire so near to Buffy. He’d appointed himself Angel’s unofficial keeper and that meant maintaining a watchful eye on him lest he slip into bad ways again.
But the vampire had been keeping his distance, having only one brief meeting with Buffy before disappearing. Declining to shack up at a hotel, he’d retreated to his mansion. The ex-Watcher would have loved to join him. But the place was drear and depressing with its deficiency of plumbing and heating. That hadn’t seemed to bother the vampire but then his lack of body heat meant such things were of no consequence to him.
So Wesley had been forced to stay at a local hotel with the others. Gunn stayed with him while Fred got her own room. She’d promised not to write on the walls if left alone and then giggled at the uncomfortable looks on their faces.
Cordelia had disappeared with Connor in Los Angeles. In spite of frantic and diligent searching by the Fang Gang, no one had been able to find them. Perhaps it was for the best. Seeing Connor might have entailed all sorts of questions from the Slayer and her Watcher Angel simply wasn’t prepared to answer. He had been quite adamant in his decision that no one bring up the subject while they were in Sunnydale and ruin Buffy’s wedding.
It was hard to fathom that a Slayer would marry her Watcher. In all his study of Council history, he’d never read of such a thing occurring. Then again, who ever heard of two vampires having a human baby?
That Anya was an odd duck. Even hearing her history from Buffy hadn’t managed to dispel his discomfort. She’d been very much at ease around Wesley, commenting that if he’d still been a part of the Watchers Council she would have avoided him, knowing the hard-line stance they took against demons. But seeing as he was a failed Watcher she didn’t perceive him as a threat. Wesley found such crass speaking strangely reminiscent of Cordelia. What was it about Xander Harris that attracted such females to him?
“Man, there are some fly honeys around here, that’s for sure.” Gunn tipped up his champagne glass and looked around the open clearing. “You think any of them are demons or ex-demons like that Anya?”
“Doubtful. I don’t think any of them would have risked the wrath of the Slayer by attending. However, this is Sunnydale. You never can be sure.”
“Comforting. Maybe I better lay off the socializing ‘til we get back home.” He finished the champagne at one gulp and snatched up a shrimp puff from the tray of a passing waiter. “Can’t complain about the eats, though,” he mumbled around the scrumptious mouthful. “This Giles dude must be loaded to put down the bling for this kinda spread.”
“I believe most of this ‘bling’ as you put it comes from Mr. Hank Summers. However, you’re otherwise correct. The Council does very well by its members.”
“That right? Too bad you didn’t stay hooked up with ‘em. Hey, why didn’t you stay with ‘em, anyway? You never told me that story.”
“Well, it has something to do partially with that woman over there.” He gestured at the table where the bride and groom sat and Gunn looked over at Buffy.
“I know Angel’s got history with Buffy. What’s your story?”
“Curiously enough, it has a little to do with Angel’s history. You see, Faith shot him with this poisonous arrow…”
Fred stayed on the sidelines, feeling awkward and out of place. She knew that she was considered a bit of a weirdo and had been even before her unscheduled trip to Pylea. Her bout with madness after five years on the run from the demonic denizens of that world ensured that most men would find her an oddball as they’d call her down home. Outside of her little circle at A.I., who would want an ex-physicist turned freed slave and demon hunter? “No one, that’s who,” she muttered.
A male guest near her turned his head. “Excuse me? Were you talking to me?”
“No. Just continuing a conversation in mah head. You know how it is. You get to thinking random thoughts that lead into other random thoughts like why nobody ever got the notion about gravity before that Newton guy did. I mean, all you have to do is watch raindrops gathering together on a windowpane to see the forces at work to understand it.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s always weighed on my mind,” the guy mumbled, his eyes sliding away from her. He’d thought the brunette girl really pretty if kinda skinny. She was by herself so she was obviously alone and that meant lonely. And weddings were always a surefire way to get tail, especially from horny bridesmaids.
But this one was obviously a brain and they were usually turnoffs, blabbing away like crazy when you were trying to get your hands under their skirts. He saw a redheaded girl heading towards the punch bowl and grinned in her direction. Abandoning the babbling brunette without a word of apology, he wended his way towards her, adjusting his tie.
Fred watched him go. “Yeah. I would have left too,” she sighed. She looked up to see Wesley staring at her and holding a glass of punch. “Hi, Wes. Enjoying the sights?”
“More than you know,” the former Watcher murmured. He smiled and extended the glass towards her.
She accepted his offering even while she eyed him over the rim. She was aware of his interest in her but he didn’t make a move. Was he waiting because he thought she needed more time to get over Gunn or was it British shyness? She found his eyes on her more and more often but was getting impatient with his reticence. “Wesley, would you like to dance?” she blurted. Okay, maybe she could have been subtler about that. Her years as a Pylean slave had thrown her social skills completely out of whack.
The old Wesley would have stammered and blushed. But, after a startled blink, he set down his glass on a nearby table and extended his hand. “Delighted.” He pulled her onto the open space between the tables and watched with delight as her eyes widened at his unexpected grace. “Did I ever tell you how I was famed at the Watchers Council for my terpsichorean skills?”
Fred giggled. “Nope. I never would have pegged you as a dancer.”
“Quite. I was known as the Waltzing Watcher.”
The phrase brought out a loud whoop of laughter that caused several of the other nearby guests to gaze at them curiously. Wesley’s answering smile was sly as he expertly maneuvered her. Fred looked over to the side. “Looks like you’re not the only Watcher with trippy feet.”
Wesley turned his head to follow her gaze. Buffy and Mr. Giles were swaying together, gazing into each other’s eyes and to all appearances oblivious to the world around them. Mr. Giles would turn and steer the tiny blonde woman with easy motions that caused them to ghost around the other dancers as if they weren’t there.
“They look real happy, don’t they? Reminds me of my parents,” Fred added.
“They do?” Mr. and Mrs. Burkle had been strong, supportive people of a laidback, homespun quality. Salt of the earth, as the expression went. Wesley didn’t see any resemblance to the apparently mismatched couple of the knowledgeable Englishman and the headstrong, stubborn woman less than half his age.
“Yeah. They’re in this for the long haul. You can tell.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He gazed upon her face and cleared his throat. “Fred, I was wondering if you would--”
“Attention, everybody!” Buffy yelled. Wesley cursed silently as she stood on the dais. He’d seen the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral during an evening in with videos Fred had insisted on. The part where one character pointed out how many people seemed to meet their future spouses at a wedding had stuck with him. He’d hoped to use this opportunity to move closer to Fred. But now the moment was ruined.
Buffy held up her bouquet. “Single ladies to the floor. You know what this is all about so come and get it!” Fred perked up and ran to join the growing bunch of single women. Wesley brightened. If Fred was joining the other eager hopefuls to catch the overpriced floral arrangement, that might mean she was open to the idea of future romantic entanglement. Maybe he still stood a chance after all...
Anya frowned as the other women stood up and began to gather into a tight circle. “I don’t get it. Why are they rushing to capture a decaying plant?”
Dawn had abandoned the cute boy she’d noticed. He was into Phish, for god’s sakes. I mean, come on. Who listened to that band any more? “They want to see who’ll be the next to get married.” Seeing the ex-demon’s blank stare, Dawn asked, “Haven’t you ever seen a human wedding before now? I mean, you were going to throw the bouquet at your wedding, right?”
The ex-demon snorted. “Throw away an expensive bouquet? Not when it cost $60.”
“So what? It was only gonna wither and die anyway. What were you planning on doing with it--cast it in bronze?” Dawn shot back.
“I was going to have them pressed between the pages of heavy books like encyclopedias and dictionaries and other books humans don’t use but keep around to make themselves look smart. Then I would have placed the foliage into a nice tasteful frame behind glass to preserve the moment. It would have joined all the other marital paraphernalia like the slice of wedding cake kept in the fridge.”
“Uh uh. There’s no way uneaten cake would have lasted in Xander Harris’s fridge,” Dawn stated with authority.
“Well, it would have in mine,” Anya countered. “But I didn’t know about the part about throwing the bouquet. I didn’t socialize much with humans when I was a demon except when I was egging unhappy women into making wishes. Besides, I was usually called in when marriages had gone sour. I never saw the beginnings when humans got married in their usual delusional belief that everything would be all right and their spouses aren’t going to betray or cheat on or abandon them.”
“Oookay. Whatever. Well, whoever catches the bouquet is supposed to be the next to get married.”
The ex-demon got a feral gleam in her eyes. “Really? Then I should definitely be there. No need for you to come, Dawn. You’re far too young to get married by modern standards.” Anya jumped up, preparing to run towards the other women.
“Careful, Anya. You don’t want to make the men here think you’re desperate,” Dawn sniped.
“As opposed to all these other women? You think they don’t reek of desperation, anxiety and the fear that they’re going to wind up bitter, lonely old maids whose bodies will be discovered partially eaten by their cats months after they’ve died? Now excuse me, I’ve got a bouquet to catch.”
Practically pushing Dawn to the ground, Anya trotted over to the other women. If they thought they could wrest victory from her, this was one ex-demon who would prove them wrong. She’d get that artificially wrapped-up bundle of wilting floral vegetation if she had to claw out the eyes of any female who got in her way.
Xander had eased up to the two girls and caught the tail end of the conversation. “Okay, did you find that as scary as I did?” he asked.
“No question. Only Anya could bring her particular brand of squirm to a wedding like this. Then again you didn’t see that thing-in-a-box D’Hoffryn brought to your wedding.” Then Dawn’s face flamed. “Oh, gosh, Xander. I’m so sorry.”
The Scooby’s expression went blank. “It’s okay, Dawn.”
“No, it’s not. That was totally mean. I-I didn’t want to remind you. And I’ve been trying all day not to jinx Buffy’s wedding, too.” Dawn drooped and wished the earth would open up to swallow her.
“Dawn, what happened at my wedding--okay, my non-wedding--isn’t something for you to be ashamed about. It was my fault things didn’t go down as they should and I’m gonna have to get used to people talking about it.”
“Especially if you don’t.” Dawn peered into his face. “You never talk about it, Xander, not even to Willow and I know ‘cause she was mundo unhappy about that. She’s your bestest friend and she was hurt because you wouldn’t say anything to her.”
“I-I know. But it seemed so personal and it wasn’t something I could just talk about.”
“Not even to us? Way to be Share Guy, Xander. We’re your family just like you’re ours. I got all dressed up in this dress that was this totally putrid shade of booger green just for you! I made the sacrifice of looking like a huge snotball and I think I’m owed an explanation. So spill.” Dawn’s eyes snapped at him and Xander was reminded all over again how much like her older sister she was.
“I panicked, okay? What that guy showed me--”
“He wasn’t a guy, Xander. He was a demon using a trick glow ball. Anya told us that much,” Dawn pointed out.
“I know that. But it was like my worst fears come to life. Then I saw my parents arguing away, doing their Ralph-and-Alice act for everybody to see, and I realized I didn’t want to get married. I wasn’t ready. Anya was right; I only asked her because I thought the world was coming to an end and I wouldn’t have to go through with it. See me, Xander the Cowardly Lion. Make that liar.” He sighed heavily and slumped in his seat.
High-pitched feminine shrieks tore the air as several women leaped to snag the floral arrangement bouncing from one hand to another. Both Scoobies watched in amusement as Anya shoved, trampled and elbowed the other contenders in her rabid desire to get the fading trophy. Finally it came down to a grim struggle between her and an overweight woman in a loud, shiny blue dress with ruffles. Anya was alternately clawing at her hands and trying to maintain her death grip on her prize. But the other female outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and slowly but surely was wresting the bouquet out of the fake blond’s grasp.
“Oh, get real, people.” Buffy stomped up to the two of them, easily pried the bouquet away from the two combatants and ripped it into two bundles. She handed the tattered remains to Anya and the fat woman. “Here ya go. Enjoy.”
“Guess that solved that problem,” Dawn observed.
“That’s our Buffy. Little Miss Fix It,” Xander replied idly.
There was a high flush on her cheeks as Anya marched back, the drooping flowers held triumphantly in her hand. “Whew! That was exciting. If I’d known that human weddings contained blood sports, I would have crashed them a long time ago.” She held up the flowers and regarded them curiously. “So when are these supposed to work?”
“Work? Anya, you didn’t think--?” One glance at Anya’s face and Dawn realized the truth. “You did. Anya, the whole business of catching the bouquet is just a kind of superstition. It doesn’t actually mean the woman who snags the flowers is gonna get hitched.”
“It doesn’t? But I thought--and this being the Hellmouth and all…” Anya’s face was a study in outrage and disappointment. “Well, geez, the way those women were carrying on, I figured there had to be real magic at work! Why else would anyone go through all that?!” Her mouth twisted in anger and she flung the flowers violently to the ground and plopped back into her seat. “If I’d known that, I never would have bothered. What a pathetic waste of time. I socked that woman in the eye for nothing.”
Dawn and Xander traded looks at this revelation. Then Xander looked thoughtfully at Anya. “You that eager to get married, Anya?”
“Not to you if that’s what you’re thinking. You had your chance, Alexander Lavelle Harris. I just wanted to let these other males here know that I’m available and in the running.” Anya lifted her chin in the air and looked to the side, smiling and waving at the men scattered around as if to signal her availability.
“And let’s not forget desperate. That’s the sort of thing that drives men off, you know,” Dawn pointed out to her.
“Well, I shall be coy yet available. Sex with a willing female was never a turnoff for men. Besides, if marriage isn’t a sure thing, I can do without it. It’s not like being shackled to a man is a guarantee of happiness. Take it from a woman who’s seen centuries of disappointed wives and fiancées.”
“Coy? You wouldn’t know coy if it bit you in the butt,” Xander snapped.
“Just watch me, Harris,” Anya shot back.
Dawn pleaded with them, eyeing her older sister as she and Giles walked to the car. “Guys, could we remember this is Buffy’s special day and not spoil it for her?”
“She’s had her special moment,” Anya grumbled. “This is her second wedding. Remember?”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t behave.” Dawn wondered when she had become the voice of reason.
“It looks like things are packing up anyway,” Xander pointed out. He was right; now that the wedding couple was leaving, several of the guests had broken off to get to their own vehicles or grab last pieces of wedding cake. Only a few couples remained swaying in desultory fashion on the dance floor.
“Who’s driving us home? I take it we’re not expected to accompany the groom and bride,” Anya asked. The spirit had gone out of her and she looked woefully dejected. Xander wrestled internally with his decision. Ever since being locked together in the training room, they had achieved a kind of wary peace. But his refusal to have sex with her to patch things up had left Anya cranky and unsure of herself. Sex was Anya’s test of whether a relationship was on an even keel and she swayed between needy clinginess and attempts at frosty indifference that fooled no one as he sought to patch up their problems without the glue of sexual bondage.
Shaking off naughty thoughts of bondage with Anya, Xander came to a decision. He stood up and made an awkward attempt at a bow. “May I have this dance?”
Anya looked up at him, startled. Dawn had found it was very difficult to surprise the ex-demon. In 1,100-plus years of mingling with humans, she’d seen it all and done it all and almost nothing about human behavior took her off guard. This moment came close however.
She recovered from her initial astonishment. “Sure! I mean, I was beginning to think you’d never ask. You don’t know how to dance but the gesture is appreciated.” She stood up and allowed Xander to lead her over to the others.
Dawn watched the dark-haired man lead Anya awkwardly through the motions. The way Anya was clinging to Xander and clutching at his butt, they’d probably head back to his place and screw their brains out. Dad would take her home and she’d rattle around in that empty house on Revello Street until her older sister decided to stop getting groiny with her brother-in-law and come home. Her elbows propped on the table, Dawn leaned her head on her hands. “Great. Look at me. Odd girl out.”
Then again, who was to say Dawn couldn’t have any friends over? While the Slayer was away, the Key would play. Grinning to herself, Dawn snagged some hors d’hoeuvres from the table and wrapped them up in a napkin. Something to be savored for later…
She looked up to see her father and Cathy standing over her. “Hey, pumpkinbelly, I think it’s time to hit the road.” He looked up. “Where’s your friend, Willow?”
“I think she was getting close with that English blonde girl. I don’t think she’d be rushing things; that’s not Willow’s style. But they seemed to be really chummy.”
“Getting cl--? You mean, Willow’s a, a…” the man stammered.
“Lesbian, dear. You can say it. I think you can even find the word in the dictionary,” Cathy murmured sweetly. Dawn had come to the conclusion that Cathy hid a really sharp tongue and an equally sharp mind under that blonde exterior. She wondered if Dad knew this or whether he just had a habit of picking women out of his league.
“Oh. Well, I-I didn’t know. I mean, she never said anything about it to me.”
Cathy shrugged. “Maybe she thought you’d figure it out on your own. Or she honestly thought your opinion wouldn’t matter so she just didn’t bother to let you know.”
“Huh. And I guess Buffy knows about it?” Hank ventured.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Like, duh, Dad. She and Willow have known each other for almost seven years. Not the sort of thing you keep secret from your bestest girlfriend.”
“Right. Well, on that note, I guess we shouldn’t wait for her then?”
“Like I said, Willow doesn’t work that fast.” Dawn glanced around the space. “Then again I don’t see her around. So who knows?”
Hank considered himself quite the modern man. But it was one thing to cherish the usual heterosexual male fantasy of getting caught up with two lesbians and quite another to find out you were personally acquainted with one. He didn’t have any gay friends (that he knew of) and he would have been deeply uncomfortable around any guy he knew who swung “that way.” His daughter was a lot more…progressive than he’d imagined if she was hanging with lesbians. He wondered if that Anya was that way inclined. It would explain her disparaging comments about men.
Willow chose that moment to come bounding up to them, her cheeks pink and a bright light in her eyes. Dawn decided to tease her a little, just to make her father squirm. “Hey, Willow. Where have you been? Dad was about to take off without you because he thought you and that blonde were smooching in a corner somewhere.”
“Dawn! I-we were not smooching!” Willow protested. “Monique was just giving me her phone number.”
“For half an hour?” Dawn’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead.
“We were talking.”
“Uh huh. Talking. Right.”
Willow glared and Dawn smirked back, utterly unrepentant. “I wouldn’t point fingers if I were you. What about that boy you were talking to?”
The teenager snorted. “Him? He likes this old band that nobody listens to any more. He’s so lame.” She assumed an innocent expression. “Besides, I think he’s into show tunes. If you know what I mean.”
Seeing her husband’s face turning a queer shade of red, Cathy nudged him. “Hank, I think she’s kidding you.”
“I know that. I was just--so, do you and Willow want to go home now?”
“Wait. Where’s Anya?” Willow looked around for the ex-demon.
“I think she went home with Xander. I saw them leave in Xand’s car,” Dawn answered.
“Ooh! You think they’re getting back together?” Willow replied, her eyes lighting up.
“Count on it, Willow. Anya was doing some serious butt groping out there. I think Xander may have finally given up on his ‘no sex’ rule.”
“Right! That’s it. We’re going back to the hotel,” Cathy proclaimed loudly. All this frank talk from the kids was playing havoc with her husband’s blood pressure. If he got any redder, he was going to explode or collapse from heart failure. She practically pulled him back to the rental car as he muttered something about lesbians and sex fiends under his breath.
“And I guess that means I’m going home with you. Always the bridesmaid…” Dawn moped.
“Be happy, Dawn. Two of our favorite couples are getting together today,” Willow chided gently.
“I guess so. I’m just wondering when it’ll be my turn to get somebody. Somebody who isn’t a demon or monster or asswipe like R.J.”
Willow sniffed. “R.J. standing for Real Jerk.”
“Rotten Jackass.”
Willow giggled, linking her arm in Dawn’s as they continued their game. “Rope Jockey.”
“Rope…? Where’d you come up with that one?”
“Xander’s phrase for a guy who has to hump the ropes in the school gym in order to get his jollies.”
Dawn made gagging noises. “Ack! Ewwww, I’m never climbing those things! I’m so glad I’m not a boy.”
“Same here. Too bad I didn’t get a chance to turn R.J. into a girl. Maybe he’d have been a better person.”
“Speaking of better people, I’m really glad Buffy got somebody to love.”
“Me too, Dawnie. Me too.” Willow smiled to herself and patted her purse which held the blond’s coveted phone number. Monique was staying in town for a while after the wedding. Maybe Willow had found herself somebody, too.
Weddings had a definite way of bringing people together.

TBC
- 6
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- 8
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What a Mother Wouldn't Do