"Pop-up books?" Dawn asked, and everyone around her seemed too pre-occupied to respond. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not too young to know about such things, you know," she addressed the table at large.

"Yes, but these are pop-up books that *Spike* and *Xander* enjoy. Hell, *I'm* too young to know!" Cordelia told her. They both looked at Giles, who was watching Spike pick out another gift from the table. He was blushing, slightly. "Giles?"

"The first one was supposed to be a gag-gift. I swear, I had no idea they'd...."

"Convince Morrie to start carrying a new line of life-size pop-ups?" Cordelia glared at him. "And the most obnoxious thing is that they have the real children's books too, so every time I go to steal one for some client's kid to read, I have to open it to check and see which kind it is."

"I take it back," Dawn said quietly. "I *am* too young to know."

"Let's just say that 'Pat the Butt' is the most *innocent* one they have from the Morrie's line, and they store it right next to 'Mike Mulligan's Steam Shovel.'"

"I *said* I was too young to know," Dawn reminded her.

"Sorry," Cordelia smiled, sincerely. "But now you know why I told you never to go into their suite?"

Dawn nodded. "I'm thinking I can't wait to get home to a nice, normal, slightly-geeky human boyfriend. The weirdest thing he does is-- um. Oh, look, someone gave them a robe." Dawn blinked. "Someone gave them a robe?"

Spike and Xander were chortling with glee, unfolding the garment and looking it over. Giles groaned. "It's from Ethan, it has to be. I'll kill him. Angel will kill him. Cordelia, I dare say you shall want to kill him as well."

Spike slipped it on over his... well, not much, since his tuxedo jacket was still lying out by the pool the last time Cordelia had looked. He grinned and looked around. Everyone stared at him expectantly. Waiting to see what was so special about a red silk robe, aside from it admittedly looking very attractive on him. He frowned. "Right, what do I have to do to turn this gizmo on?"

"Dance for it? Always works for me," Xander suggested unhelpfully.

"Tie the belt," Ethan said with a dangerous smile. Spike quickly tied the belt...and vanished from sight.

There were three immediate reactions -- that Cordelia noticed. One, Angel, Gunn, and a handful of others yelled at Ethan. Two, Spike's voice was heard shouting gleefully. Three, Giles muttered something under his breath and Spike reappeared.

Ethan glared at Giles. Giles glared back. Spike, however, didn't look remotely upset. He started tiptoeing up behind people and making faces. Tapping them on the shoulder, then skipping out of the way when they turned around. Finally he 'sneaked' up behind Xander and goosed him. Cordelia made a note to ask Wesley where he got the de-lusting spell-- hopefully it *hadn't* been from Ethan. Xander turned around and gave Spike a very, very kind look.

"Um... oh vampire love-bunny of mine?"

"I know. I can hear them giggling. But I got to pinch Anya without getting slapped; it was worth it."

"You didn't get slapped because she thinks she's supposed to get pinched at a wedding reception. Don't ask -- it wasn't me." Xander shook his head, and pulled Spike towards him.

Spike happily let himself land on Xander's lap, and began kissing Xander's neck. Cordelia threw a cup at him.

"Ow! Hey... Hey! She hit me! Is she allowed to do that? It's my wedding day!" Spike pouted at her. Even from across the room, she could tell. Pout number 4. She shivered, and glared back.

"Yeah, but it's *her* wedding," Xander pointed out. "And stop pouting. Especially that one."

Spike turned the only pout of his that Cordelia had ever once fallen for, on his husband, something for which she was supremely grateful. Xander sighed, and kissed the top of Spike's head where the cup had hit. "Here. Open a present."

Spike gleefully unwrapped the next box. Which contained another wrapped box. Which contained another... After the fourth one, Spike growled. "Right, much as I like destroying the paper, there'd better be a pressie in here somewhere...."

He growled again as he unwrapped the fifth box, and merely looked annoyed as he unwrapped the sixth. Cordelia was certain that his mood wasn't being improved by the fact that Xander was giggling at him. Finally, as he unwrapped the seventh tiny box, he simply held it out to Xander. Xander took it, kissed Spike's finger, which made Spike smile again, and unwrapped it. Inside the seventh box were two small gold chains. Xander pulled them out, and looked at the tiny keys dangling from each chain.

"What are--" Xander began to ask. Then he shut his mouth quickly. Spike looked at him as Xander began to blush.

"Oi, are these extra keys to the handcuffs?" Spike exclaimed, happily. He examined the chains that they were hanging from. "Oo, and it's a two-in-one gift! Should we try 'em on, make sure they fit?"

Cordelia shot Glare #26 --and yes, there *were* that many in her repertoire, thank you very much-- at Spike, who shut his mouth and looked totally innocent. "No, you should *not*. I bought them at Morrie's and your sizes are on file. As *well* as whether you wanted the pierced or the clip-on, which, you know, I did *not* need to know, thank you. You could have just listed a model number. And for the record, Gunn, I *have* been to Morrie's mother's place. She makes a mean tuna casserole."

Gunn snapped his mouth shut.

Dawn was looking at Cordelia quizzically. Cordelia wasn't sure which question she was going to ask first. Cordelia just kept glaring at Spike until he put the chains back in their box. Xander set them aside, into the 'take with' stack. Another thing she didn't really need to know. Even if she was glad they liked her gift. But still, eew. Just on principle.

"Cordelia?" Dawn finally asked, as Xander was now reading the gift cards *before* selecting the next gift to open. Cordelia looked over, not needing Giles look of warning not to tell her anything she really *was* too young to know. "What *were* those?"

"Extra keys to the handcuffs," she said, quite honestly.

"Um, yeah, but..." Dawn frowned. "Those chains would break way too easy if they stuck them on a keyring. And why would you want pier..." She looked down at her plate. "Oh. Could I have another piece of cake, please?"

Giles passed her one, without comment.

"Oh! Wow! Joyce, thanks!" Xander tried to jump up, noticed he had a vampire in his lap, and settled for smiling broadly across at Buffy and Dawn's mother. "We've been wanting these forever!" He held up the items so they could all see -- a black model Trans Am, and an orangge Dodge Charger with a confederate flag painted on the top.

"You're welcome. It was the only thing I could get without going into Morrie's. Not that I minded, but Buffy kept refusing to tell me where the store is." Joyce smiled misleadingly-kindly at her daughter.

"It's on 15th street," Spike began. He stopped when Buffy took aim with her fork. "You know that thing's not made of wood," he told her.

"But if I hit your tongue, it won't matter."

Xander was still looking at the model cars, looking for all the world like he was going to open the boxes now and start putting them together. Cordelia had to blink at the sudden transition she still had never gotten used to. One second Xander was lecherous, kinky purveyor of smut and sex. The next minute he was four years old. It didn't help that he'd been that way since he was twelve. It should have, but it didn't.

"Next present!" Spike sang, tapping Xander on the arm. "From Wesley. Which means boring, but probably good. Since I didn't piss him off much recently. I think."

"Define recently," Xander said, taking the box.

"Define much, " Wesley muttered.

But Spike took the present back out of Xander's hands, and opened it. Everyone stared, as Spike found himself holding a few slim books. Spike turned them on the side, reading the titles. When his expression exploded into gleeful leering, the stares turned towards Wesley.

"What are they?" Xander asked, trying to turn his head so he could read the titles, himself. "The Cloud Messenger?" Giles' look of confusion turned to understanding, as did Angel's. Everyone else kept shooting confused looks from Wesley to Spike.

"Want me to read a bit?" Spike offered.

"Um... Is everybody in the room old enough to hear it?" Xander looked around. "Wait, what am I saying; it's from Wesley. Sure. Go ahead."

There was a bit of a commotion among the WesGunnAngel trio, then Wesley hopped up and plucked the book from Spike's hands. "Perhaps not."

Xander looked mystified, then began examining the other volumes. "Silk Orchids, the Poetry of Robert Danning... um, okay... Drink the Ocean..." he didn't sound any less confused as he read the titles off.

Spike took one of the books and opened it, flipping to a page and reading, "My heart and loins burn--" The book was snatched from his hands. Spike looked at Xander, bewildered.

"Thankswe'llreadthislater." Xander set the books aside - the 'take with' stack -- and grabbed another present.

"Erotic poetry?" Gunn was asking Wesley.

"Seemed appropriate," Wesley answered mildly. Cordelia watched as Gunn kept looking at Wesley. For the moment, it was more entertaining than Spike and Xander about to discover they'd been given towels. Towels with pictures of a variety of naked demons, true, but still - towels. Wesley noticed that Gunn was still looking at him. "What?"

"You bought erotic poetry and gave it to the Newt Twins?"

"Is there something wrong with them having erotic poetry? They do read, you know. Besides the pop-up books, I mean."

"Yeah, but what I wanna know is why you didn't buy erotic poetry for *us* ?" Gunn was giving Wesley an...interesting... look. Cordelia wasn't quite sure if she'd ever seen it before.

Wesley looked innocent. "Well, for one thing, I already *own* all of these volumes. They're in the bookshelf next to the fireplace."

Gunn's eyes narrowed. "And the reason you never saw fit to mention this before now?"

Wesley looked slightly guilty, at that. "Er, well, for one, most of them aren't in English."

"And the ones that *are* and let's ignore for a minute the whole 'teach me Sanskrit if you want to' thing?"

"Um." Wesley squirmed in his chair. Cordelia was sure it was not due to the soaking wet pair of knee-length swim trunks he was wearing. They'd put towels down on all the chairs, for just that reason. Angel was looking at him now, as well. "I didn't think you liked poetry?" Wesley finally offered, and Cordelia could tell he'd just failed to help his case, big time.

Gunn glared. "Do *you* like the erotic poetry, Wesley?"

She hadn't known Wesley could make the eep noise. Cordelia had been positive that the ability to make the eep noise was limited to Xander, Spike, and Willow. Huh.

"Yes?" Which seemed more like 'Is that the answer you were looking for' than 'I'm unsure of my opinion on the matter.'

"Would you like us to *read* you some, tonight?" Gunn said, suspiciously pleasantly.

Wesley gulped. "Er... yes?"

"Would you like that before, or after we deal with the fact that you didn't tell us you liked it?"

"Both?"

Cordelia had to admit, she was impressed by the man's bravery. Gunn leaned closer to Wesley, but didn't say a word.

"Wow. He really *is* back on the bottom, isn't he? I mean, for real this time." This was whispered from Dawn. Cordelia shushed her, listening for more.

"I thought you'd say 'no'," Wesley said quickly.

"But you don't mind giving them to Newt Boy One?"

"Well, I don't care if *Spike* gets laughed at," Wesley said, with a hint of a snap in his voice.

Dawn leaned over to Cordelia, again, and whispered more quietly, "We need more popcorn."

"Eat your cake, little girl."

"Wesley, we read you classics of children's literature," Angel said to him. "What makes you think we would laugh at the Cloud Messenger?" Wesley seemed stumped for an answer on that one.

"There was a young man from Nantucket-- that, I might laugh at," Gunn offered.

"Who kept all his cash in a bucket," Wesley said brightly, obviously hoping to distract them.

"He met up with a queen," called out Spike. He was stifled by Xander, before he could say anything more. Stifled, then distracted by something Xander had unwrapped, and caused Spike to say, "All right!"

Cordelia wanted to look over and see what it was, but Wesley was being glared at again by Gunn and Angel, and was trying to look cute his way out of it. There was a time when that would have worked instantly, but lately, Cordelia had noticed it didn't work as often. She was eager to know if it would, this time.

"Five bucks Angel caves first," Giles whispered, pulling out a five dollar bill and setting it on the table.

Dawn pulled some coins out, and set them down. "My money's on Wesley."

"Er...I had the books on the shelf for a long time, and I honestly didn't think about it until I bought copies for Spike and Xander. And I was going to ask you to read some tonight, after the Enfants Terrible were safely packed off to England 17B, and couldn't pop in to make fun of us?" Wesley tried.

"You just said you didn't think we liked poetry. Which, as a matter of fact, you know Angel does, so that was a pretty lame try to begin with," Gunn pointed out.

"Er..." said Wesley, again, and Cordelia noticed that he was keeping his spellcasting hand free and at the ready, even as he speared a piece of wedding cake with the fork in the other one.

She risked a quick glance around the room -- Spike and Xander had stopped unwrapping their gifts, and were watching. Spike was feeding Xander wedding cake, or possibly trying to smear Xander's face with icing, which was stage one of SpikeAndXanderHavingSex, which was going to call for a bucket of ice in another few minutes. But not yet. She turned her attention back to Wesley, who was just squirming.

"When was the last time we refused to do something you asked us to do, Wes?" Angel asked in a deceptively calm and conciliatory tone. Cordelia saw Giles glance down at his five dollar bill with a doubtful expression.

Wesley looked up, smiling. "The gilded pipe or--" There was a black hand over his mouth.

Gunn glared at Wesley, then he surveyed the interested crowd. "Don't you folks have something else to do?"

"Wait about for *your* wedding?" Ethan called out from one of the tables in the back.

Gunn gave him a dangerous look, and addressed the crowd in general. "Anybody wanna kill him for me?"

Giles was half out of his seat before Cordelia managed to grab the tail of his tux jacket and yank him back down. He gave her a half-hearted glare, but he knew damn well he was no match for her, so he started shoving cake into his mouth again.

"You know, there's an old quote about somebody who protests too much," she said to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Mrrhp mpph mrmmpmf?" he replied, looking away.

"Just saying. Anya says Ethan keeps popping up in Sunnydale these days. With or without Dru." Giles' eyebrows went up in an expression that was almost wholly innocently confused. Cordelia snorted. "Thought so."

"Excuse me, thought *what*?" Giles asked, sounding even more innocently confused and honestly perplexed. Except he didn't *quite* meet her eyes, right off. Glanced instead someplace over to his left -- with Anya sitting up ahead of him and slightly to the right. Uh-huh, Cordelia said to herself. She shoots, she scores.

"You're still sleeping with Ethan?" Dawn asked, surprised. Cordelia laughed as Giles choked on a bit of cake.

She grinned, then picked up another cup. Time was up. "Hey!" she shouted, then threw the cup at Spike's head. It bounced off, and Spike looked up from where he'd been cleaning the icing off his husband's face.

"Hey!" he protested.

Xander just grinned back at her. "It's only fair, Spike. We got our free seven minutes of snogging. And my tonsils are clean, now, so we can do the toasting."

"Toast?" piped a happy voice from the not-going-with pile. Spike threw the cup at it.

"Is it me? My turn now?" Drusilla was asking Buffy. Buffy pried herself away from Harmony, and nodded. The vampiress stood up proudly and swayed her way over to the two grooms. Xander and Spike both looked at her expectantly, if a little warily as well. There was no telling what might come out of Drusilla's mouth, after all.

She raised a plastic cup of champagne -- Cordelia had figured, rightly, that food and drink would end up flying, and had planned accordingly-- and smiled.

"To my two boys, who always make me feel like I'm still part of the family. May you be happy forever." She kissed them each on the top of the head, then sat down, while those in the crowd who knew her sat in stunned silence, and the rest of the guests clapped, the raised their glasses.

Dawn leaned over to Cordelia, who was just as surprised as anyone. "How many years of therapy did she have to go through to get *that* speech out?" Dawn whispered. "I mean... it made *sense*."

Cordelia caught Xander's sideways glance to Spike. "Does this mean I have to start calling her 'mum'?" He still looked a little shocked around the edges.

Spike started to shake his head, and Cordelia saw Drusilla pout. So *that* was where he'd learned it! Spike quickly said, "Can if you want to." Then he leaned over and whispered something in Xander's ear, which made Xander grin, and glance over at Angel and his Zoobilee Zoo. (The Host had made them t-shirts, and Gunn had voted for wearing them at the wedding. Cordelia had voted him down.)

Xander giggled. Angel growled, softly, and Drusilla beamed at her boys. Cordelia reached over and grabbed another glass of champagne.

"Ahem," Willow interrupted, trying for a serious expression. She was giggling, though, and trying to ignore what was being whispered up to her from those sitting near her. "Spike and Xander..." she giggled again. "No, I am *not* drunk, Biffy. I mean, Buffy." She tried again, and got her giggles under control. "In case anybody wonders, no, I'm *not* drunk. I just tend to babble a little on special occasions."

"Like when she's awake," Spike put in.

"Shut up, or I won't say nice things about you. And I'll take back the spell I did for your wedding night." Spike shut up, and Cordelia grinned. She had been the one who suggested the spell in the first place. Spike hadn't even been told what it was, but if Willow had set it up, he knew it had to be good. And it was.

Willow started again. "I've known Xander since we were..um... Baby Girl Rosenberg and Baby Boy Harris, and he's been my best friend for almost that long. I've known Spike... since the first time he tried to kill us all, but really, he's changed since then. He only does it every other month or so."

Somewhere out in the sea of tables, Cordelia saw Xander's mother sit up straight, and look worriedly up at the head table. When nobody in the audience seemed at all surprised by the statement, and most chuckled, she seemed to relax.

Spike stuck his tongue out. "I haven't tried to kill you since...hell, I can't even *remember* the last time."

"I *am* counting the barbecue last Easter, Spike," Willow said primly. "Anyway, here's to my best friend, and his best friend. And their weird fish kids. And everybody up here tonight," she added, sweeping a gesture that took in the whole wedding party. "Here's to our family, kooky as they might be."

"Who is she calling 'kooky'?" muttered Buffy, and someone, somewhere in the room, sang, "Duh duh duh duh," then snapped their fingers.

Cordelia checked her watch. A little late; she'd figured on chaos erupting at least two minutes ago. She watched, unalarmed, as a glassful of champagne -- minus the glass -- flew through the air towards the person singing "they're creepy and they're kooky."

"So," she asked Dawn, cheerfully. "What are you going to do with your ill-gotten gains? You know you shouldn't be gambling, young lady."

Giles muttered something as he stood up, carrying his empty plate and glass towards Anya. Dawn laughed, and looked over her shoulder to where Wesley was sitting quietly.

Angel and Gunn were looking entirely too self-satisfied. Cordelia wondered if Wesley was gonna have to clean the suite and offices, by himself, for a week. Naked. Like the last two times. Not that Angel and Gunn really let anybody get a good look at him doing the naked-cleaning. It was kind of funny. They'd stand outside the doors, looking like Secret Service guys, and whenever anybody came near, they'd say "No entry. Naked cleaning," and growl if you tried to peek. She'd stopped trying to figure out the logic of it, since that meant *they* didn't get to peek either. She'd just chalked it up to "Hmph, men," and gone about her business. Besides, Spike had the place plastered with cameras anyway. Angel never did manage to get *all* of them, try as he might.

Dawn was still grinning. "Hmm. A whole five bucks. What'll I ever spend it on?"

Cordelia smiled back at her. "You could throw it in the dollar dance bin and dance with Spike and Xander five times."

Dawn frowned. "Then I'd have to pick which one I wanted to dance with twice, and which one three times, and one of them would pout at me."

"Nope. When the sign says 'dance with Spike and Xander' it means 'with Spike and Xander'. At least, that's what Spike says."

"Oh!" Dawn perked up. "That, I can do!" Then she frowned. "Um, what exactly is the money going towards, anyway? I asked Spike, and he said 'charity'. But...couldn't Xander already...you know, give more than twenty dollars or so?"

"Oh, they're matching it five to one, don't worry." Then she rolled her eyes. "He didn't tell you which charity, did he?"

Dawn slowly shook her head, casting doubtful glances towards Spike and Xander. "Does it involve sex toys, and third world countries?"

"Close. Sex toys and down-trodden demons. Spike says he wants to give the homeless and poor, free sex toys." She leaned over and whispered, "But don't believe him. They're really giving it to DemFam." Dem-Fam was the demonic version of OxFam, and one of the organizations Spike loudly and vehemently denied knowing anything about. Which didn't explain the address labels they kept sending to Mr. The Bloody.

Dawn nodded. And quickly reached into her little changepurse to pull out another five dollar bill, laying it atop Giles'.

"You want *ten* dances with them?" Cordelia asked her. "You're a braver woman than me."

"Actually, I was planning on donating it in your name," Dawn said sweetly, standing up to lean over and drop the bills into the box in front of the head table.

There were a few drawbacks to training someone up in one's own image, Cordelia decided, as she surreptitiously slipped a piece of wedding cake onto Dawn's chair. Which she was expecting, and picked up before sitting down, but it was the thought that counted, after all.

*****
Part 4:

Nowadays, it was futile to deny that he felt some sense of pride in the children whose growing up he'd been a part of. He'd done so for years, mostly to deny that he *was* old enough to be their parent, and partly because it made them squirm. But watching Spike and Xander -- and lord help him, that sounded *natural*, now -- mingling among the crowd, holding hands even when they were facing opposite directions and talking with completely different groups of people, Rupert could not help but feel proud.

It would be silly to think he hadn't had a role in bringing them to this point. Not in getting them together, nor even convincing them it would be all right to attempt a life together. But there had been dozens, perhaps hundreds of opportunities to slay either one. And he hadn't ever taken any. Anyone who knew Spike or Xander, would know just how much fortitude that showed of Rupert's character.

Right now, for instance, Xander was chatting good-naturedly with a large blue Narlithian demon, while Spike attempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of Xander's swim trunks. Except the trunks didn't have back pockets. Wesley's de-lusting spell was slowly wearing off-- as, of course, it was intended to. Though they wouldn't *really* end up tearing each other's clothes off on the dance floor, Rupert hoped. After all, Xander's grandparents were here.

"They look so sweet together," Mrs. LaVelle said to him. He was standing next to their table, mingling as well. One of the sworn duties of the wedding party, according to Cordelia -- who was fulfilling her sworn duty by mingling with the Host. In a cha-cha. Or possibly the Lambada.

"Oh, they are sweet," he assured Xander's grandmother. "Especially when covered with honey and tied to an anthill. Which is one of the many things Cordelia threatened to do to them if they misbehaved during the wedding."

"Oh, don't be silly," the elderly lady lightly tapped Rupert's arm. "They wouldn't misbehave. Xander was *always* a darling...." She trailed off, and Rupert glanced over to where she was looking. Xander was wriggling so that Spike's hand could slip farther into his swim trunks.

"Er, perhaps--" Rupert began, taking Mrs. LaVelle's arm, intending to turn her around so she wouldn't have to see.

Her doubtful expression grew thoughtful. "I suppose...one couldn't actually *blame* him. Why, I remember Maurice had his hand slipped inside the bodice of my-- Mr. Giles? Are you all right?"

He managed to nod, despite choking on the champagne he'd taken a sip of.

"Where are my great-grandchildren, by the way? I noticed someone moved them away from the pool when people started actually swimming."

"I took them up to Xander and Spike's rooms. Drusilla will be watching them while the...er...boys, are gone, I believe." And God help poor Gunn, who was still trying to deal with Drusilla suddenly calling him 'Daddy,' having apparently decided that Angel's Sire-ship extended to all of his mates, as well.

"Quite a lovely girl. I'm not entirely sure how she's related to Spike, though. I seem to hear something different from everyone I ask."

He blinked. "Well, Drusilla is that, indeed. Something different."

"Oh, yes. A sweet girl -- I invited her to stop by whenever she's in Fresno." Rupert looked sharply at her. Perhaps she'd had too much already. Or perhaps she didn't realize....

"Um, that's not--"

"Oh, and she's offered to take me shopping, tomorrow," the lady continued, apparently oblivious.

"I don't think that's entirely a good idea," Rupert tried again. He couldn't recall if anyone had told Xander's grandparents that Drusilla was a vampire -- that she *wasn't* a vampire like Spike and Angel, i.e. , muzzled. He knew no one had bothered to tell Xander's parents -- he'd been enjoying watching *their* reactions to the various un-human guests. But Rupert -- and Xander -- *liked* Xander's grandparents.

"Why ever not? She told me about this little store-- Larry's? No, Morrie's. It sounds very interesting."

Rupert was quite glad he hadn't taken another swallow of champagne. "Er..." When he looked down at her, he suddenly realized from whom Xander had inherited every bit of the impish wickedness they'd all thought he'd merely absorbed from Spike via osmosis. He bowed his head. "I should quit while I'm ahead, shouldn't I?" The twinkle in her eye was answer enough.

"It might be best. Then again, we wouldn't have nearly as much fun." Her expression grew curious for a moment as she peered into the distance behind Xander and Spike. "There's someone coming in late, it looks like. At least, I didn't see him at the ceremony."

Rupert followed her gaze, to see a large man, about Xander's age, walking through the dining room doors. When he spotted Xander in the crowd, a grin broke out on his face. He made his way only somewhat like a bull in a china shop, to where the couple was standing, and tapped Xander on the shoulder from behind.

Xander glanced over his shoulder, then froze. Spike was instantly facing the newcomer, and Rupert didn't have to be within earshot to know the vampire was growling. He, himself, was moving forward a step -- stopping as he recognized the young man one second before Xander had flung his arms around Larry's neck. Now Spike looked confused, and Rupert continued forward, gaping in disbelief. He could hear, now, Xander babbling into Larry's shoulder. Rupert didn't blame him -- eight years ago, Larry had been declared dead.

Rupert reached them, and saw Spike tug on Xander's arm, asking, "Xan? Er, who is he?" He repeated his question, then when it got no response, Spike asked, "Can I eat him?"

Xander raised his head long enough to say "Later."

Spike looked confused. "I can eat him later? Are we bringin' him along on the honeymoon, for a midnight snack, or something?"

Larry laughed, loudly. "If a big-ass snake couldn't eat me, I don't think you two could. Ah, unless that wasn't what you meant by 'eat', in which case, I think Xander should introduce us first, at least."

Xander stood back, finally, and glared sternly at Spike. For about two seconds. "I *meant* I'd explain who he is, later, but I should have known you wouldn't shut up until you got your way. This is Larry Blaisdell. He was Captain of the football team at Sunnydale High. He beat me up at every available opportunity."

Spike grinned at the newcomer. "Good on ya, mate."

Xander whapped him on the head. "I learned everything I know from him," he said mock-sweetly. Spike growled, loudly this time, and even Rupert took a step back. Xander just whapped Spike on the head again. "Not *that* everything I know. Just the part about abusing defenseless, dumb creatures. Larry, this defenseless dumb creature is my husband, Spike. Um, Spike William Abelard..." Another growl. "Harris Bloody... y'know, I can't remember. It ends in Giles, though."

Rupert wondered how long it would be before he stopped feeling that little pang in his chest every time he was reminded of that fact. Then again, perhaps he was just having a heart attack. Always look on the bright side of life, his mother had told him.

Larry gave Xander an arch look, which was truly frightening on his somewhat Neolithic face. "Yeah? I thought you were supposed to be straight?"

Xander crossed his arms. "I thought you were supposed to be dead! I think mine wins!"

"You're dead?" Spike asked, casually. Then he frowned. "You're not dead. Can hear your heartbeat."

"Yeah. Sorry; didn't realize you thought I'd died. Right after we toasted the Mayor I figured it was time to get out of town. I've been traveling, hanging out. The last three years I've been living in this little place called Droitwich. Hey -- my roommate's name was Giles."

Rupert decided he needed more champagne.

Larry grinned. "Just kidding, Mr. Giles. Willow found me in the lobby, and told me to say that."

"Yes, thank you. Now that my heart has stopped, I'm just going to go over here and sit down. You all carry on, pay me no mind." Why was *he* the one everyone delighted in toying with? Was he particularly susceptible? Or was this just karmic retribution for having shagged Ethan regularly for two years? And irregularly for... No, he would *not* descend to Xander-humour.

"Hey, you can't sit down, Giles," Xander said, and he looked quite serious, suddenly. Rupert blinked at him.

"Why ever not? Has someone put cake on my chair? Again?"

Xander hemmed and hawed a bit. "No. Well, probably. But that's not what I meant. It's just... We were gonna head over to my parents' table, next." The growl that came from Spike this time was something entirely different from the possessive one he'd just let out at Larry. This was quiet, and very low, and made the hairs on the back of Rupert's neck stand up.

Xander made a shushing noise at him. "We have to. Well, I have to. You don't have to, if you don't want to, Spike."

"You don't have to. Don't have to ever go near 'em again. We can leave for the honeymoon right now. I'm sure Wesley wouldn't mind gettin' away from the boytoys for a few minutes."

The 'boytoys' , as far as Rupert knew, had been taking turns dunking Wesley in the pool for the erotic poetry incident, for the last half hour.

Xander's voice was quiet. "Spike, I have to."

"It's all right, Xander. I'll come along." Rupert reached out and gave the young man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll even hold them down while Spike has a go at them." Xander turned to him, his 'Spike be reasonable' face threatening to slip into a pout. "Xander, that isn't necessary," Rupert began, gently. It wasn't like he hadn't been falling for that pout for almost eleven years.

"But I *have* to go--"

"I mean, it isn't necessary to guilt us out of threatening them with bodily harm."

Xander blinked. "Um, because you won't, or because I have you thoroughly under my power?"

"I wanna go find Wesley, and make him send us to Disney World. We can offer to take him halfway, get him out of the pool for a bit." Spike frowned, cutely, at his husband.

"You need help beating up his folks?" Larry was asking Rupert. "I'm a bit outta practice, but I can probably take his mom. She doesn't look too tough."

Rupert blinked at him, and blinked again when he saw where Larry was looking. "That's not Xander's mother, it's Carla, Xander's administrative assistant. And no, you could *not* take her."

"Hell, Xander can't even take her," Spike put in. "She makes him eat brussels sprouts with lunch when he's in the office."

Rupert was about to top Spike's Carla-story with one of his own, when he noticed that Xander was quietly trying to wriggle out of Spike's grasp and head for his parents' table alone. Spike noticed at about the same time, because he latched onto Xander's arm like a short vampiric limpet.

"Right, then, we'll get this over quickly," Rupert said, taking Xander's *other* arm.

"Can I help?" Larry asked, sounding a bit doubtful as he glanced towards Carla again.

"Help what?" Buffy asked, appearing with Slayer-stealth at Rupert's side. "Hey! Alive Larry. Not dead?"

"We're beating up Xander's folks," Larry explained. "And not dead."

"Oh! Cool. Count me in!" Buffy smiled.

Xander held up his Spike-encased-hand. "Um, guys? Not really making this easier."

"You're not going over there alone," Spike said firmly.

"That's fine. But could we keep it down to you and Giles, please? Just... I don't want a scene, okay? I know you guys mean well, and I know just about every person in this room would be happy to do something nasty to one or both of my parents, but let's not, and say we didn't?"

Buffy cast a doubtful look at Spike, who looked like he wanted to argue, then nodded. Rupert did, as well. "Yes, perhaps that would be best. It's *not* a production, and this is not their night. It's Xander's and Spike's. We shouldn't let them take up any more of it than necessary."

Buffy finally nodded back, and pulled Larry away. "So, you with the not-deadness. How's that working out for you?"

Rupert couldn't hear what the young man answered, but Buffy's laughter followed them as they moved towards the table where Xander's parents were sitting, looking not one whit more comfortable than they had at the first moment he saw them in the audience during the ceremony.

Xander's mother caught sight of them heading over, and she nudged her husband. Neither of them looked entirely thrilled to see them heading over. No one said anything as they approached, and came to a halt beside the table. Mr. and Mrs. Harris looked up at Xander, expectantly.

Xander didn't say anything, either. Rupert looked over, wondering if he ought to think of something polite to say, but despite all his good English breeding, all he could think of was 'Glad you didn't say anything annoying about Xander while you've been here.'

Spike finally broke the silence. "So. The certificate was from you, right? Thanks."

Rupert looked over at him. Perhaps they'd grabbed the wrong blonde vampire. "Certificate?" he repeated. Hopefully Spike didn't mean the one *he'd* slipped into Xander's tux jacket pocket, which was spelled not to open until they were safely on the honeymoon.

"From Home Depot." Xander still wasn't saying anything, and both his parents were looking at him. Spike cleared his throat. "I hope the traffic wasn't too bad, coming down here from Sunnydale."

Mrs. Harris turned her head to look at Spike, for the first time, and said, somewhat stiffly, "Ah, no. Not until we hit Ventura Boulevard. We somehow got caught in the middle of a parade."

Rupert stifled a grin as he realized which parade they'd probably gotten caught in. It had been organized by the staff of Scooby Inc. He rather hoped they'd gotten an eyeful of Miss February from the _Demon Lovers_ calendar. She would be enough to put anyone off their wedding cake, if he recalled correctly. Anyone not used to ogling Morfosiuf demons, that is.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, we should have warned you. If we'd known you were coming to the wedding," Spike continued. Xander seemed willing to let him, and Rupert kept silent if only to hear what was no doubt a once in a lifetime event. Polite Spike. What next - Buffy doing as Rupert asked, without comment?

"Uh, yeah, we woulda RSVP'ed, I guess," Mr. Harris began, glancing over at his wife. "Our invitation arrived late." There was another glance at Xander, at that, which made Rupert want to rip the man's tongue out. He wasn't even exactly sure why.

"That's perfectly all right," Spike said smoothly, as if the man had implied no fault on the part of anyone but himself. "Cordelia planned for quite a few extra guests."

Xander's mother glanced over at Cordelia, who was still dancing with the Host, and appeared to be having a fine old time. Only Rupert knew that it had required his express assurances that he would personally separate Thomas Harris' head from his body if he even looked like he was going to say anything that would hurt Xander, before she had even allowed the invitation to be dropped into the mail.

"I can't believe that's Cordelia Chase," Mrs. Harris said. "Her family was so well-respected in Sunnydale. Xander used to date her, you know," she said to Spike, as if he, and everybody else in the room, weren't aware of that.

"Yes, she's grown up quite a bit, hasn't she?" Spike said, looking over at her. His tone somehow conveyed that her growing up did not reflect on her choice of Xander-as-boyfriend. Rupert had no clue how he'd managed it. Xander looked appreciative, though, since he was still making no effort -- or at least not succeeding at his effort -- to speak to his parents.

"What is that thing she's dancing with?" Mr. Harris asked. Obviously the man had forgotten what he was in a room full of.

Rupert gave the Host a measuring look. "I believe he's a baritone." The unamused look he got from Mr. Harris in reply, made Rupert want to think of something else annoying to say. But hadn't Xander asked them to be polite? No, Xander had only asked that they not do physical harm. "Spike, aren't you a baritone, as well?" Rupert asked the vampire.

"Nope, tenor. I can fake a baritone, though. Don't ask me to sing bass."

"I'll keep it in mind, if the Host actually goes through on his threat to drag out the karaoke machine from behind the front desk." Not that there really was one-- Cordelia had extracted a solemn oath from everyone involved in the wedding plans, not to let Angel near a microphone for the entire night. But he was rather hoping the mere mention of the k-word would lead the Harrises to summarily excuse themselves, and flee in terror.

No such luck, of course. "Karaoke?" Thomas perked up. He gave his wife a grin which made Rupert want to go wash up. "Here that, Helen? Maybe I'll get a chance to strut my stuff!"

Rupert didn't have to look over to know what Xander's expression was. He could imagine those brown eyes pleading - 'Please, kill me. I don't care if I never get to shag Spike again. Don't let me suffer.'

Helen smiled, indulgently. "Yes, dear. That would be such fun."

"You're a singer, as well?" Spike asked, once again sounding polite and friendly. It was unnatural -- if he kept this up, Rupert wouldn't be able to stifle the urge to slay him.

"Oh, I never sang for a crowd before," Thomas replied, boastfully. "But only because I never had the chance. Inherited my talent from my uncle. Only one in the family besides him with a real talent."

Yes, aside from the son who was now running an extremely successful publishing business, and had managed to do what no one else in the history of history had ever accomplished-- getting Spike to be polite. Then again, perhaps it was a good thing that Xander didn't seem to have inherited any of his father's obvious talent for making a complete ass of himself. Rupert gave a momentary shudder for the poor Host, should Mr. Harris actually manage to procure a mic and some accompaniment.

Spike didn't even miss a beat, Rupert noted, before replying, "It's always good to be aware of the blessings one has in life." His tone was so neutral that even Rupert had a hard time, for a moment, figuring out what he meant. But Rupert at least had the advantage of being able to see behind Xander's back, where Spike had one arm firmly wrapped-- and two fingers pointed up at the Harrises.

"Yes, isn't it?" Helen smiled at him, in that bright fake smile mothers always gave the monsters that were marrying their children. Spike smiled back.

"So, are you enjoying yourselves?" Rupert asked, feeling beholden to carry on part of the conversation, himself.

"It's a weird place for a wedding," Thomas answered, looking around. "Thought if anyone ever married my boy, it'd be in front of the JP." He grinned. "With her daddy standing behind him with a shotgun."

"Oh, we've a shotgun somewhere," Rupert answered smoothly. More or less. "If it'd make you feel more at home." He felt Xander step on his foot, and smiled, politely.

Xander's father let out a loud guffaw. "Oh, hey, that's good. I like a man with a sense of humor."

If he followed that phrase with 'Did you ever hear the one about the...' all bets were off. Spike could remain as polite as he pleased; Rupert would bite him.

Instead it was, "Guess you have to have one, to go along with all this." He waved a hand around at the room, the guests, the decorations. At some point the gesture swept past Spike and Xander, and only the pressure of Xander's foot on the toe of Rupert's already-uncomfortable formal shoe stopped him from doing something he really wouldn't regret at all.

"Actually, Cordelia's the one who decorated the place. That's why all the photographers." Spike nodded towards the edge of the room where the photographers from a variety of human and demon magazines were mingling and jostling for shots.

Mr. Harris' expression faltered slightly, but unfortunately he rallied almost immediately. "Noticed them." His voice dropped to a stage whisper. "Heard one of 'em say he worked for a nudie mag. Don't worry, boy, we won't tell your grandparents. It'll be our secret."

There was a flash of a dark look on Xander's face. Right. Well, now the only question was - should Rupert just give them a bit of verbal hell which would be more civilized, but would almost certainly go over their heads and do no good? Or should he and Spike toss the man into the pool? More satisfying, but more likely to have Xander look at them like a whipped puppy, for not doing as he'd asked.

"I imagine they already know," Spike said easily. "Since your father-in-law was having quite the time talking to Fred Keffler about how artistic the camerawork was on his last centerfold." Spike turned to Xander, and said conversationally, "What was all that guff Fred was giving me earlier about not drinking champagne on the job, by the way? Innit his day off?"

"Yeah," Xander said quietly, to Spike, and only to Spike. "But Fred won't go anywhere without that damn camera, and he's the best shooter I have. I wasn't gonna have him spending his own time giving us free museum-quality wedding pictures, so I told him if he showed up, he was on the clock. He doesn't drink, anyway; he was just giving you a line."

"Couldn't afford a real wedding photographer, huh?" Xander's father said, with a knowing grin. He chugged his own glass of champagne as if it were a mug of Budweiser, then added, "Yeah, neither could we, when we got married. At least, that was what we told people, since your mom didn't want anybody takin' pictures of her when she was big as a house."

"Tom..." his wife said quietly. Rupert wished, for Xander's sake, that he could detect a hint of apology to her son in the tone of that single word, but all he heard was her own embarrassment.

"Ah, don't worry, honey," Thomas said, in a clear tone of faked conciliation. "Ain't like he doesn't know he was accidental." He winked at Xander. "Never was sure you didn't belong to Ricky, but Helen wanted me. So I did the right thing."

"Xander, please, may I cease being polite?" Rupert knew he sounded like Spike -- but he didn't care. He was reasonably certain any damage he inflicted would heal. Didn't really matter, since Spike was giving Xander his own pleading, please may I kill him, eyes.

"At least that's one thing he won't have to worry about," Helen was saying with a nervous laugh.

"That's it. I can't listen to this anymore."

They turned, startled, as Angel walked over. Angel, who had not made any promises about bodily harm. Or politeness. And who didn't have a chip in his head.

"Oh, you're his..." Thomas pointed at Spike, then looked confused. "Actually, I'm not sure what you are."

"I'm Angel," he said. "Spike and Xander are my family. This is my home. I think you should leave it, now."

"Just a minute, here." Xander's father stood up, trying to come eye-to-eye with Angel. He was tall enough, but the look that the vampire gave him assured that the eye contact lasted only a second, before the human's gaze dropped.

Angel nodded. "Okay. You have a minute. I think you should be able to make it to your car in that amount of time." What he was planning on doing if they *didn't* manage to leave in sixty seconds, was left unsaid.

"Alexander," Helen began, giving Xander a disapproving look. 'Can't you control your friends?' was what she didn't quite say aloud.

"Fifty six." Angel sounded calm.

"What?"

"You have fifty six -- fifty four seconds left."

"Oh, come on now! This is--" Thomas glared at Angel, then Xander, then Rupert.

"Don't look at me. I wouldn't have given you a running start."

Xander -- finally -- moved. Took a step away from his parents, tugging Spike after him. He took another step, and stopped when his mother said his name again. "Just go," was all he said, before he took Spike back to the dance floor.

Rupert stepped forward, and looked down at Thomas. "Please refuse."

The man looked as if he were thinking about it, for a moment, then turned to his wife. "Come on, Helen. I've got to work tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Sunday, and Xander's father, according to Mrs. LaVelle, was retired. But Rupert didn't feel it was worth pointing out. They were leaving, that was all that mattered. As they walked out the dining room doors, Mrs. Harris looked back, and said to Rupert, as if it were something very, very important she was imparting, "We came, didn't we?"

It took Angel's hand almost crushing his shoulder, for Rupert not to follow them out the door. "Please, let me. I've been wanting to for *years*, god knows why I haven't before now."

Angel didn't let go of his shoulder. "Because Xander would pout at you if you hurt them?"

Rupert forced himself to laugh. "As if he doesn't already, for the tiniest things." He let himself be distracted, pulled away from following those poor excuses for human beings and explaining to them what they'd missed.

"Yeah, where did he learn that, by the way?" Angel's voice sounded accusatory.

"Don't look at me, I only met him when he was fifteen. Ask Willow."

"Nuh-uh," Willow said, as she danced by, holding on to her wife. "I didn't do it. He's had that pout down since he was Baby Boy Harris. He used to get extra bottles of formula in the maternity ward, 'cause he'd pout at the nurses. "

"I guess that settles the question of which came first, the Xanderpout, or the Spikepout," Rupert said as he rubbed some feeling back into his shoulder.

"Nope." Angel shook his head. "I can personally vouch for the Spikepout having been around since at least eighteen eighty." He got a faraway look in his eye, for a moment. "He might have learned it from Dru."

"Learned it from Dru, my ass," Gunn snorted, slipping up behind Angel and pinching an arse that was, technically, his, though it wasn't attached to him. "You ever see this guy when he's tryin' to get you to go to a Manilow concert?"

Everyone stared at Angel, who looked sheepish.

Willow narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you sneak into Sunnydale General and teach Xander, too?"

Angel looked at her, eyes wide. "No!"

Willow just kept starting at him. Then she said to Tara, "I think he did. He's just a dork and won't admit it."

"Watch whom you are calling a dork, Miss Rosenberg," Wesley said, from behind her.

She blinked at him. "Are you trying to say Angel's *not* a dork?" she asked incredulously.

"No, I'm merely telling you to watch him. He can't dance worth a damn, and he's about to step on your wife's foot."

Tara quickly moved her foot out of Angel's stomping range, Rupert noticed. Angel loomed impressively over Wesley, who did a much better job of cute-looking his way out of this encounter than he had earlier tonight. "Can't dance worth a damn?"

"Would you like to prove me wrong?" Wesley asked, holding out his hand.

Rupert smiled as Gunn mirrored Wesley's movement. Watching the three of them slow-dance was definitely an interesting experience.

In the center of the dance floor, in a space cleared of friends, relatives, furniture and loquacious wedding gifts, Xander and Spike were dancing, as well. Pressed close together, Xander's head on his husband's shoulder, slowly turning around and around, barely in time to the music.

Rupert smiled at Anya, whose hand had just slipped into his. She smiled back. "I believe it is customary to sway rhythmically to express our enthusiasm for their marriage."

"Right you are, Anya." He glanced out onto the dance floor again -- everyone was dancing with his or her partner of choice -- or partners, Angel and his two not being the only group swaying rhythmically together. There would be a great deal more rhythmic swaying, later, upstairs.

Anya was watching the newlyweds, as were many of the dancers, and those still seated, but Rupert thought he saw something there, for a moment. "Lost opportunities?" he asked quietly as she looked away and settled her head against his chest.

"No. Just thinking that they look right, together. I didn't see a lot of that, when I was in the vengeance business. Now I'm seeing it all the time."

When the music had turned them around, and he was able to see the two of them over Anya's shoulder, he had to agree. Xander had both arms around Spike's waist, and the vampire's hands were on his husband's shoulders. Xander had lifted his head, and they were staring into each other's eyes. It would be at least an hour before they got the chance to slip away with Wesley and get sent packing on their extradimensional honeymoon, but it didn't look as if they cared. They were already off in some world of their own making.

"Lost opportunities?" Anya repeated, even more quietly, not even looking up to see what he was seeing.

He watched Spike and Xander for another moment, then looked at her. Slowly, he smiled again. "Not anymore."

the end