Chapter Two: Lions and Lambs

            "How far away is he?" Spike asked Davis as they crossed the large lobby.

            "I'm not completely sure, sir, but to the best of my knowledge, approximately ten minutes."

            Spike nodded and led Buffy through a series of rather imposing rooms, to one which was mostly green, with soft sofas, and a piano in the corner.  "Can you get us some drinks?" he asked Davis.  "Buffy, what d'you want?"

            Buffy hesitated, unsure what to ask for.  "Tea?" she ventured.

            "Special tea?"

            She nodded.  It seemed like the safest thing to do.

            "Coffee," Spike said, "and tea stuff for the parentals."

            Davis nodded and glided away.

            "I think he used to be on Batman," Buffy whispered, and Spike laughed.

            "Trained at butler school."

            Buffy had absolutely no idea if he was joking or not.

            "This is so weird," she said.  "It's like a Jane Austen novel or something."

            "Since when did you read Jane Austen?"

            "I saw Emma," Buffy said defensively.

            "Right, okay, fine," Spike grinned.  "Buffy?"

            "Yes?"

            "Why are we whispering?"

            Buffy wasn't sure.  "Because I feel like I'm on a school trip.  This place is so..."

            "It's your home now."

            Buffy gave him a smile, but inside she was horribly unsure.  She really hadn't been prepared for anything like this.

            Davis the butler came back in, carrying a tea tray, and announced, "They are nearly here.  At the end of the drive."

            "Well, that's a good ten minutes," Spike said.  "Give us a yell when they get to the door."

            "You're not going to go and meet them?"

            "No, 'cos then they might think I actually like them," Spike replied, pouring water over her tea.

            Buffy wished she'd got Anya to give her some camomile or something to calm her down.  She felt horribly, horribly tense.  If it had just been her and Spike in a little apartment, maybe in London, then she wouldn't have been so scared.  When she'd come to England before, she'd stayed in Giles's little house in Bloomsbury, and it had been quite cute and fun, but also pretty normal.  Regular house, regular street.  Giles worked in a museum.  He ate takeout food.  There were bits of mouldy cheese in his fridge.  It was a normal house.

            Buffy wasn't even sure if this place would have a fridge.  Probably it had an icehouse or something archaic.

            Davis came back in.  "My Lord," he said, and Spike nodded, dismissing the butler.  He looked down at Buffy.

            'My Lord?' she mouthed.

            He grinned.  "I've tried to tell 'em to stop saying it, but they're pretty dyed in the wool.  You'll have to get used to all sorts of Ladyshipping after the wedding."

            "Oh, God."

            "You ready?"

            "They're here?"

            "Yep."

            "Shouldn't we go and-"

            "We'll be fine here," Spike said firmly.

            "So, do I have to call your dad 'my Lord'?" Buffy asked nervously.

            "Theoretically, yes.  But please don't.  He's got a big enough ego as it is."

            Buffy opened her mouth to ask what she should call him, when she heard voices outside, and then Davis reappeared and announced, "The Right Honourable Earl of Stanchester, Lady Gloria Dashwood."

            Spike scrunched up his face as if in pain.  Buffy steeled herself.

            The man who walked in after the butler looked reasonably normal.  He was about Giles's age, dressed in a suit, looked well-groomed and poised.

            The girl following him looked like the hookers in downtown LA.

            "Glory," Spike said sourly, and she gave a finger wave.

            "Hey there, Precious."

            "William," the earl inclined his head.

            "Dad," Spike sighed.

            Everyone looked at Buffy.  Spike got to his feet and Buffy started to do the same, but the earl, shook his head.

            "No, please.  No need to stand.  A lady in your condition..."

            Buffy gave him a smile.  "Hi.  You must be Spike's father."

            "Spike, is he now?" Gloria looked highly amused.  "Aren't you gonna introduce us, Spike?"

            Spike reached down for Buffy's hand, and she felt quite stupid just sitting there.  "Dad, this is Buffy Summers.  My fiancée.  Buffy, this is my dad, Lord Ethan Rayne Dashwood, Earl of Stanchester, Viscount of Spellingdon, Baronet of Blackwood."

            Buffy gulped.

            "And my stepsister, Lady Gloria Tunisia Dashwood."

            Tunisia?  Buffy was quite sure that was a country.  And wasn't Dashwood Spike's family name?  She didn't understand at all.  Glory sounded American, but she had the title of Lady?  Too confusing.

            "You can call me Glory," Spike's stepsister said, making herself comfortable on the sofa opposite Buffy, stretching out so Buffy could see how slim she was.  Ethan took a seat beside her.

            "Your stepmother sends her regrets," he told Spike, "but she had an urgent engagement."

            Spike sat down with Buffy, making no effort to offer his guests a drink.  "More urgent than my engagement?  Dad, my whole life you've told me that the only thing I ever have to do is marry and beget an heir, and since you married Tart-o-rama, that's all she's ever gone on about."

            "Don't you call my mother that!" Glory cried.

            "Oh, she's as much a tart as you are," Spike dismissed.  "What are you even doing here, anyway?"

            "Came to meet my new sister-in-law," Glory flashed an insincere smile at Buffy.

            "And you knew about her because...?"

            "Harmony called," Ethan said, his eyes never leaving Buffy.  "Said you had a pregnant girlfriend."

            "More than that, now," Spike said, putting his arm around Buffy.

            "When will it be due?"

            "August," Buffy spoke up.

            "You're only six months gone?"  Glory looked surprised.  "You look bigger than that.  I'd have thought you were about ready to drop."

            Buffy gave her a smile, but inside she said to herself, I do not like that woman.

            "Don't be a bitch, Glory," Spike glared at her.  "Oh, no, wait, you can't be anything else."

            "I assume a wedding has been planned?" Ethan said.  His steady gaze was starting to unnerve Buffy.

            "Yeah.  Well, kind of."

            "Did you set a date?" Glory asked.

            "Not yet."

            "I await an invitation."

            "Yeah," Spike said.  "You know, the post around here's a bit dodgy.  You might not get it in time."

            "I have email."

            "Phone's often down."  Spike gave his father a cut-glass smile.  The tension in the room was awful.

            "Would anyone like some tea?" Buffy asked desperately.

            "Please," Ethan said, and then watched Buffy try to figure out which was the right way to do it.  She got the feeling he was disappointed when Spike came to her rescue, pouring water over the loose leaves in the strainer and then adding a little milk.  He made no move to pass a cup to either his father or stepsister, though, and while Glory sighed loudly and reached forward for hers, displaying a lot of cleavage, Ethan stayed exactly where he was.

            "I hear you met last autumn," he said.  "Through a mutual friend?"

            "Yes," Buffy said gratefully.  "Giles is like my mother's oldest friend, he used to teach at UC Sunnydale and then he moved back over here to take over curatorship of a museum in London."

            "Rupert Giles?"

            "You know him?"

            "I know of him."  Still that unnerving gaze, like he was trying to see right through her.  Or maybe he was.  Maybe that was the way earls looked at commoners.

            "Need to give him a call, pet," Spike said to Buffy.  "Didn't you say you wanted him and the girls to come over?"

            Buffy nodded, but missed out on her chance to reply when Ethan enquired crisply, "Girls?"

            "Um, sort of friends I made in London," Buffy explained.  "Willow and Tara.  They work at the museum."  Probably not the best time to mention they were gay.

            "Do you work?"

            "Well, not right now, obviously, but I, er, well at home I was learning about art history, I was thinking about maybe working in a gallery, um, maybe after the baby's born, I might-"

            "Viscountesses do not work," Ethan said, and Glory stretched herself like a cat.

            "It's not very aristocratic," she purred.

            "Bollocks," Spike said.  "Everyone works."

            "Your wife has a duty to remain at home and take care of her children," Ethan said.

            "Mum didn't."

            "Yes, and what happened to her?"

            There was an angry silence.  Buffy, so tense she thought she might shatter, asked in a strained voice, "Uh, Glory, you sound American.  Are you?"

            "I was born in Kentucky."

            Buffy refrained from commenting on that with a monumental amount of willpower.

            "But you were introduced as Lady Gloria..."

            "Dad adopted me," she smiled charmingly at Ethan, who smiled back rather glacially.  "I'm an heir of his now."

            Spike muttered something under his breath that Buffy was quite grateful she didn't catch, and then he said out loud, "Well, nice of you to drop by, but Buff and I have things to do."

            "Love the way you take care of your guests, Precious," Glory said.

            "I take care of guests who are invited," Spike said pointedly.  He got to his feet and held out a hand to Buffy, who stood awkwardly.

            "Erm, it was nice to meet you," she said weakly, as Spike towed her from the room at breakneck speed.  "What was that about?" she hissed when they were a couple of rooms away, and Spike had slowed to an ordinary pace.

            He stopped and ran a hand through his hair.  "Told you they pissed me off," he said.  "I didn't know bloody Glory was coming."

            "I'm not sure they liked me," Buffy said in a small voice, and Spike folded his arms around her.

            "I told you they were arseholes.  They don't matter."

            "But they're your family.  How would you feel if my family hated you?"

            He shrugged.  "Wouldn't bother me."

            "But then I'd be in the middle..."

            "But you're not.  I thought I got on pretty well with your mum and the little bit."

            "They like you," Buffy said.

            "Well, there you go.  They're the people who matter.  They'll come over for the wedding, and we can go see them all the time, and we never ever have to see my family again."

            "What about the wedding?"

            "We can have a little ceremony.  Just us and some random witnesses."

            "I wanted my friends there."

            "Okay, then just us and your friends."  He kissed the top of her head.  "Don't worry about it.  I hardly see them anyway.  That was just a duty visit.  Come on.  You want to see the estate?  All the lambs are growing up, and Clem said one of my horses foaled last night."

            "Clem?  Foaled?"

            He smiled.  "I'll explain on the way."

            He took her out to a big new Range Rover, strapped her in and set the air conditioning to cool them down.  Buffy figured she could get used to travelling like this.

            "Usually I rattle around in my Defender or something," he said, "but it has zero suspension and I'm trying to be considerate."

            "I'm duly impressed.  What's a Defender?" Buffy asked, and Spike pointed to a mud-encrusted, utterly ancient vehicle that looked like it belonged in WWII.

            No, make that WWI.  Buffy was suddenly grateful for the Range Rover's leather seats.

            Spike drove her out over some rutted farm tracks, which made Buffy horribly uncomfortable, even with the car's luxury suspension.  She was grateful when he stopped the car and pointed over a sweeping hill to a field full of sheep.

            "Can you see the lambs?  They're a bit bigger than last time I was here, but they're still pretty cute, right?"

            Buffy peered at the flock of fuzzy white animals.  Some of them were smaller than others, wobbling around on legs that were too long and thin.

            "They're adorable!  Can we get out and go see them properly?"

            Spike shook his head.  "They're not so cute close up," he said.  "Sheep are smelly buggers, and besides, they're not very hygienic.  And you," he patted her stomach, "are not going near anything unhygienic."

            Buffy rolled her eyes, but she guessed he was right.  The scenery was beautiful, miles and miles of open green fields, dotted here and there with sheep, bound by stone walls that were made of rocks piled together with no binding.

            "How do the walls stay up?" she asked, and Spike explained about building dry stone walls, getting the right kind of rocks, layering them correctly, as he drove her up to a higher field where the sun was bright and the breeze fresh, and Buffy could see for miles and miles.

            And them Spike pointed, and she saw a horse with a tiny foal standing beside it, on spindly legs, tufty hair blowing in the wind.

            "Please, please say I can get out and say hello," she begged, and Spike laughed and said that of course she could.  He took her over to the mare, who was rather doubtful of Buffy, but whickered happily when she saw Spike, and nuzzled his hand.  He wrenched up a handful of grass for her and she ate it happily.  Buffy was itching to be introduced to the foal, who was hiding behind his mother, but Spike warned her that the mare would have to trust her first.  She offered her hand, palm open, to the horse, who sniffed it, then nudged it.

            Spike put some grass in her hand and the mare ate it.

            "Now try the baby," Spike said, "he won't eat grass, but you can say hello."

            Buffy got down on her knees and held out her hand to the foal, who was terribly shy, but eventually nuzzled her palm with a soft, warm muzzle, and kicked her hand.  Buffy felt her heart kick over.  She reached out her other hand and stroked the little horse, and it made a soft noise of pleasure.

            "Oh, God, I think I'm in love," Buffy said, and was astonished to find tears in her eyes.

            Spike watched her, and realised he was seeing a mother with a baby creature.  Maybe not her own, but Buffy was still looking at the foal with such an expression of tenderness it made his breath catch.

            "You're really going to be a mother," he said, and Buffy looked up at him with shining eyes.

            "I really am."  The foal licked Buffy's face and she let out a delighted sob.  "God, I'm getting hormonal."

            "Clem said," Spike began, and she looked back at him, "he hasn't named her yet.  Do you want to?"

            Buffy looked at the little brown horse and felt overwhelmed with love.  "I'm not sure I could."

            "Well, you know, you're gonna have to get some practice in..."

            She smiled.  "I don't know what to call him."

            "Well, think about it.  For now he's just Lucy's foal."

            "Lucy?"

            Spike patted the flanks of the mare.  "My girl here."

            The foal lost interest in Buffy after a while and turned to its mother, nudging at her teats and sucking.  Buffy watched: she'd thought she might be embarrassed but she wasn't, not really, and neither was Spike, who seemed to be totally used to it.

            "I never thought of you as a farm boy," she teased as they walked back to the car.

            "I don't spend much time here.  Maybe I should."  He looked down at her.  "Do you like it?"

            Buffy looked out at the undulating hills, the clear blue sky, breathed in the clean air, and smiled at him.  "I do."

            "It's all yours."

            "Don't you mean ours?"

            Spike shook his head, looking serious.  "All for you."

            "I don't want a whole estate-"

            "Then what do you want?  Buffy," he put his hand on her belly, "you're giving me a child.  That's the most amazing thing anyone's ever done for me.  I want to give you something in return.  Something, anything.  Everything."

            She reached up and traced the scar on his face.  "All I want is you."

            "Nothing else?"

            Buffy shook her head.

            "That's the best bargain I've done in a long time."  He kissed her, long and deep.  "You've got me.  Forever."