Chapter Three: The Bells of Hell Go Ting-a-ling-a-ling...
"So, when you say estate," Willow said to Giles as he drove up the long, straight road that was part of the Spellingdon Hall driveway, "you don't mean like with lots of houses?"
"Well, yes, certainly he'll own houses in the village," Giles said, "but really the term estate means the big house and all its land."
"How much land?" Tara asked from the back seat.
"I don't really know - probably several hundred acres."
"And Spike really owns all this?"
"It was deeded to him on his twenty-first birthday. When his own son is twenty-one, he'll inherit one of the family's other estates."
"How many do they have?"
"Oh, three or four. The present earl's mother will probably live on one, usually the smallest. Then the earl will have another, with his wife, the countess, and his oldest son will have a third. Then, if they all live that long, his son will have another."
"What if there aren't enough estates?" Tara asked.
Giles thought about it. "I have absolutely no idea," he confessed.
Willow turned excitedly to Tara. "We found something he didn't know!"
"Yes, very funny. Look, there's the house."
They all stared at it. The place was huge, a large central building three storeys tall, with two storey wings flanking it. Parts of the house were very old - late medieval, Giles estimated - and the newest bits were Victorian. There was a preservation order on the house which mean it couldn't be added to without a lot of official permission - but if the house were to get any bigger, it would probably be seen from space.
"And Buffy lives here?" Willow asked in awe, as Giles parked his old Citroën DS outside the huge pile of stone.
"Buffy will soon be mistress of all this," Giles said, looking up at the high slate roof, crenellated like a birthday cake. "God help us all."
Willow punched his arm good-naturedly and got out of the car, only to be nearly knocked back into it by Dawn, who came racing out of the house and threw her arms around the redhead.
"We heard you coming about half an hour ago," she said, hugging Tara next and reserving her best hug for Giles. "What is this thing?"
"It's a design classic," Giles said.
"It broke down twice on the way here," Willow added.
"Apparently they forgot to design the engine," Tara explained, and Dawn laughed.
"How was your journey?" Giles asked. "Buffy said you were coming in yesterday?"
"Yeah. It was okay. Better than last time. I watched Chicago on the flight."
"Oh, I love that," Willow enthused. "How's Buffy?"
"Nervous. Excited. Nervous."
"Is that what you're wearing?" Giles asked doubtfully, eyeing Dawn's little denim skirt and pink t-shirt doubtfully.
"No! I have a cute little pink dress. I just didn't wanna get anything on it."
"What's Spike's family like?" Willow asked as they went inside the cool hall, out of the hot sun.
Dawn looked around to check no one was listening, then she said, "Really nuts. And not in a nice way. It's like, they think Buffy is beneath Spike. And they hate that she's American. When his stepsister is American anyway, and Harmony grew up in California, but hey, they'll use any excuse to pick on us."
"The bigotry of the upper classes," Giles sighed. "Most of them are very nice and normal."
"Yeah, well, none of them are related to Spike. I'm not kidding, he's the most sane one here."
"Sheesh," Willow whistled.
Dawn poked her head into one of the rooms leading off the lobby. "Hey, Davis? Giles and Willow and Tara are here. Do they get rooms?"
"Certainly, Miss. If you would follow me."
The three girls made faces at each other as they followed Giles and the butler up the stairs, along a million corridors, and to a couple of rooms. Giles's was opposite Willow and Tara's, but the girls made him swap when they discovered he had a double bed and they two singles.
"Is Buffy getting ready?" Giles asked, and Dawn nodded.
"She said she wanted to see you when you got here. Hang on, I have to see if I can remember how to get back there..."
It took about half an hour, but she finally made it to Buffy and Spike's suite of rooms. "Spike's gone to the pub," Dawn confided, "because he says he doesn't want to be in the house with his crazy relatives, but we all know it's because he's so nervous."
"And he's not allowed to see the bride before the ceremony."
"Yeah, that too."
She went up the little flight of stairs to the bedroom and knocked on the door. "Buffy? Giles is here."
Buffy yanked the door open and threw her arms around Giles. "I'm so glad to see you!"
"Buffy! You look wonderful." He was shocked to see how big she'd got, but she really did look happy. Her gown was very simple, an empire-line dress in white silk, with narrow straps over her tanned shoulders. She had low-heeled white pumps on her feet and a flowery circlet holding a short veil in place. But it was her face that gave her away. She was glowing with health and happiness, jabbering all the time about Spike and the baby and her new foal, who she'd christened Chocolat, and the ceremony, and Spike, and trying to get a dress that fitted, and her mom trying to get on with Spike's dreadful family, and Spike again...
"Dawn, you need to get dressed," she said suddenly, pointing to her dressing room where Dawn's pale pink dress was hanging, and her sister rolled her eyes and shut herself in to get changed.
As soon as Dawn was gone Buffy grabbed Giles's hands. "God, I'm so glad you're here."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm so damn scared. Giles, am I doing the right thing?"
He stared at her. "Wedding jitters?"
"Yes! No! Maybe. I don't know. Hormones. Something. I'm just so nervous. Have you seen this place? I get lost about four times a day. Whenever I walk into a room the servants are laughing at me. Servants, Giles! I can't handle servants!"
"You don't really have to," Giles reassured her. "They mostly run themselves, and Spike will help you out. You are getting on all right with him?"
"Spike? Yes, fine. It's almost too perfect, you know? But his family are..."
"I've met a few Dashwoods," Giles said succinctly.
"I'm going to be a Dashwood. Lady Buffy Anne Dashwood. It's insane."
"It's right," Giles said. "You and Spike love each other. You're going to have a baby together. Forget about the title and the house and the servants. Just remember those things."
"Spike," Buffy repeated, "baby. Spike, baby. Ow!"
"What? What's the matter?"
"It's still kicking me! Giles, I think I'm having twins. Or triplets. Or quadruplets. Or like a baby elephant or something. It's huge. I have to get people to help me stand up."
He laughed. "I think that's reasonably normal. Your mother thought she was having twins when Dawn was born."
"Yeah, well, Dawn can be a lump sometimes-"
"I heard that," Dawn said, coming out of the dressing room, smoothing down her dress. "How'd I look?"
Buffy's eyes filled with tears. "Dawnie, you look beautiful!" She hugged her sister, sniffing.
"Not at all lump-like," Giles smiled. "Well, I shall leave you two alone. I ought to go and find your mother, perhaps rescue her from the dreaded Dashwood clutches."
He left the room and found his way downstairs, where Joyce was trying to hold a conversation with Spike's stepmother, who was older, but looked younger, much more expensive and much more trashy.
"Joyce," Giles said, and she turned with a look of complete gratitude.
"Giles. When did you get here?"
"Oh, about half an hour ago. I've just been to see Buffy."
"Doesn't she look beautiful? I can't believe my baby girl is getting married."
"And you are?" Spike's stepmother interrupted, looking over Giles's admittedly rather old suit with distaste.
"Rupert Giles. Old friend of the family."
"Giles is giving Buffy away," Joyce said proudly.
"Why, would no one take any money for her? Candida Dashwood, Countess of Stanchester." She extended a hand for Giles to kiss, and Joyce giggled when all he did was shake it. "Where is Buffy's father?"
"No one really knows," Joyce said easily. "We separated a long time ago. He doesn't keep in touch."
"I don't keep in touch with my first husband. But then, he is dead."
"Yes," Giles said, "how dreadful. And where is Spike?"
"You mean William? Down in the village, getting drunk."
"Oh, marvellous," Giles said.
Xander sat in the hire car outside the pub, trying to think of what to say. He needed to find out exactly what Spike's intentions were: he still didn't trust the man his best friend was about to marry. Buffy deserved the best, and Xander still couldn't shake the notion that Spike was using her.
Eventually, he got out, and walked through the June sunshine into the heartbreakingly pretty English pub. This whole place was like a chocolate box, he thought, not like modern London at all. Horses clattered down the street and there were cottages with thatched roofs. He didn't think places like this existed outside of period dramas.
He found Spike sitting on a corner, staring moodily at a row of horse brasses, a full shot glass in front of him. He was surrounded by a cloud of smoke and Xander frowned, because according to Buffy, he'd given that up for the baby.
"Hey, Captain Peroxide, she's gonna smell that on you," he said, and Spike didn't really look up.
"What's that?"
"The smoke. You're about to set off an alarm."
"If pubs had smoke alarms, they'd go out of business," Spike said, glancing at Xander. "Come to escape the frigid hospitality?"
"Are all your family insane? Or is it just you?"
"No, they're just nasty. Perfectly sane, which is even worse. Drink?"
"No, I think I'll turn up to your wedding sober. Which is more than I can say for you."
Spike shoved the shot glass away. "Haven't touched it. Buffy wouldn't want me turning up drunk."
"She know you're here?"
"No. Came for some Dutch, but I don't want it."
Xander took a seat opposite Spike and studied him. His face was hard, closed, there was no telling what was going on in his head. Probably just as well, Xander thought, and said, "About Buffy..."
"Come to tell me I'm not good enough for her?"
Xander opened his mouth, then nodded warily.
"Well, you're bloody right. But then, no one is. She deserves... Well, I don't know what she deserves. Better than me."
"Got that right," Xander said. "Do you know how-"
"I can't give her everything," Spike said, not really listening, "but I can give her everything I have."
"Very romantic," Xander said.
"The other day I watched her with Chocolat-"
"With chocolate?"
Spike shook his head. "Chocolat. Her foal. She named him that. He's only a few weeks old. She wants him for the baby. Says they can grow up together. She goes to see him every day, just sits in his stall or in the pasture and talks to him or plays with him... He's like her baby."
"Until the real thing comes along."
"And I watched her the other day, and I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life. She's amazing. Her kindness, her strength... That baby kicks her black and blue but she never complains. I can't even comprehend being a parent, but it never seems to faze her."
Wanna bet? Xander thought, but he said nothing.
"In a not very long time, I'm gonna promise to love and honour her for the rest of my life, and you know what? That's just not long enough. I love Buffy," Spike said with more honesty than Xander had ever heard, "she's better than I'll ever be, and I can't believe I have her."
Xander was quiet for a while, unable to think of anything to say. Eventually he looked at his watch and said, "Better get going. Don't want to be late."
Spike nodded and drained his glass. "Right. Wedding. Right."
Dawn had left to go and find Joyce, and Buffy sat alone in her room, one hand on her stomach, feeling slightly dizzy. It wasn't sickness, it was nerves. She couldn't believe she was going to get married.
There was a knock on the door, and she called, "Come in."
It was Ethan, in morning dress, looked very regal. Or earl-al. Buffy wasn't sure how that was supposed to go.
"You look very fine," he said, nodding curtly.
"Thank you. You look very-" Buffy searched frantically for the word, and eventually, gratefully, came up with, "noble." Thank God!
"Noble," he nodded. "That's because I am. The Dashwoods can trace their lineage back to Henry VIII."
"Wow. Even I've heard of him."
"Yes." He surveyed her, and Buffy plucked nervously at her skirts. "How far back does your lineage go?"
"Um, well, I think my dad's family might have been English. Or maybe Swedish. I'm not sure."
"You don't know."
"Well, no..."
"The Dashwood line has been perpetuated by careful marriages. Not only by Dashwood heirs such as William, but by younger sons and daughters. Money must be kept in the family. Noble blood must flow. You do not have noble blood."
Buffy stared at him, her brain fizzing.
"Did you, perhaps in a history class, ever hear of Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson?"
"He abdicated because he wasn't allowed to marry an American divorcée," Buffy said, proud of herself for knowing.
"Indeed. Royalty has strict rules about religion, race, class... Here in the peerage our rules are less concrete, but they still govern us."
Buffy frowned. "If this is because I'm-"
"What? American? Pregnant? Ridiculously uneducated? Unsuitable in every way-"
"You married an American," Buffy said.
"After I had produced two legitimate heirs of good blood."
"That's it? This is all about heirs?"
"I cannot allow your child to inherit the earldom." Ethan reached inside his grey morning coat and produced an envelope with Buffy's name on it. "Whether it is, indeed, William's child, remains to be seen, but it will not be made the heir."
Buffy stared at him, stunned, as he held out the envelope, and when she didn't take it, he put it on the bed by her side.
"In that envelope is a sum of money large enough to purchase a house for yourself and the baby. Another cheque will be sent to you each year until the child is grown. You will find it very generous."
"Generous?" Buffy whispered.
"I do not wish you any ill, Miss Summers, but you must not marry my son. Take that money and leave Spellingdon, leave the country as soon as you can - although I understand you cannot fly, a ferry will take you to France or Ireland - go home to American and do not come back. That money comes with the proviso that you never, ever contact my son or any of the family, ever again."
Buffy folded her arms over her belly and looked up at the man she'd thought was going to be her stepfather.
"Are you trying to buy me off?"
"It's best for us all. You're not of our class. You don't belong in our world. Go back to California. Be a cheerleader. Raise your baby any way you want and marry whomever you wish. You will be well provided for. Just stay away from my family."
Buffy looked at him for a long time and felt to angry her blood heated up and the baby kicked fretfully. She picked up the envelope and opened it. The cheque inside was for a larger amount of money than Buffy had ever thought she'd have.
"A house for yourself, food and clothes for the baby, a car, childcare while you," Ethan's lip curled slightly, "work, if you still find you need to."
Buffy looked at the cheque. With this she could probably send the baby to a private school. Pay off her mom's gallery debts. Live, as he'd said, very well indeed.
She looked up at Ethan, and he was even smiling slightly. A smile that vanished instantly when Buffy ripped the cheque in half, then half again. She threw the pieces at him.
"Take your money," she said, "and stay the hell away from my family. I am going to marry Spike and I don't give a fuck if you disinherit him or throw him out of this house - or whatever the worst thing you can do is. I don't want to be a viscountess or a countess and I don't want my baby to inherit your damn title. I want Spike, because I love him and he loves me and our baby. Now get out of my room, get out of this house, and don't you ever come back or I swear I will kill you, because I've done it before."
Ethan looked at her for a long moment, then left, and Buffy fell back on the bed, shaking, tears leaking from her eyes.
Joyce and Dawn came back to the suite five minutes later, and Buffy just had enough time to sit back up and wipe away her tears before the door opened.
"Are you alright?" Joyce asked. "Have you been crying?"
"Hormones," Buffy said. "I'm just so nervous."
"Oh, honey," her mother put her arms around Buffy, "of course you are. But Spike loves you, and everything will be fine."
Buffy wished very much that she could believe it.
She'd rarely seen him wearing anything other than his usual scruffy jeans and t-shirt, biker boots and of course, his beloved duster, and for a few seconds Buffy couldn't see Spike in the church at all.
"Where is he?" she panicked, clutching Giles's arm. "I can't see him!"
"He's right there, by the altar," Giles said. "Look."
Buffy looked, and to her astonishment saw Spike standing there, nervously scratching his hand, looking divine in a traditional grey morning suit.
"Oh," she said. "Oh." The baby kicked, and she absently put down a hand to push its foot back down. Spike caught the movement, and he gave her a little smile. Buffy broke into a massive grin in return and wished she could just run up the aisle and into his arms. The sooner they were married, the better.
But she allowed Giles to walk her up there slowly, and eventually, after what seemed like years, took Spike's hand at the altar. The ceremony was short and traditional, no hymns or speeches, just a vicar with a dog collar, Spike and Buffy, and Dawn in her pink dress, holding the flowers and the rings.
The baby kicked again just as Buffy said 'I do,' and she laughed, taking it as a sign. "I think he does too," she said, and the small congregation laughed with her.
They walked down the aisle, arms linked, fingers clenched together, and out into the sunshine. Anya and Xander threw clouds of confetti over them, Dawn and Joyce and Willow and Tara and Harmony and Darla all rushed in and hugged them and cried congratulations that Buffy hardly heard, because she was searching the crowd for someone who wasn't there.
Ethan.
The chapel belonged to the big house, but it was in the village and therefore a decent walk back to the house. The guests mostly went on foot, and Spike helped Buffy into a little trap drawn by Lucy, Chocolat's mother. He put one arm around her, and the other hand on the reins, and they pulled out into the village street, the bells of the old church singing after them.
"Hey there, Mrs. Dashwood," he teased Buffy, who curled as closely against his side as the baby would let her.
"Sounds weird," Buffy said.
"Well, actually, that's because it should be Lady Dashwood. And this little bit," he stroked her stomach, "is gonna be The Honourable Little Bit Dashwood."
Buffy smiled determinedly. "It is, isn't it?"
"But don't tell Dawn I said that."
"Why not?"
"Because little bit's her name."
Buffy laughed. "I love you, William," she said, and reached up to kiss him.
"Woah, don't make me crash," Spike said, and reined Lucy in so he could kiss Buffy properly. Willow, walking along the far side of the road, wolf-whistled, and Buffy blushed.
"Do we have to do the whole wedding breakfast thing? Can't we just get straight to the wedding night thing?"
Spike grinned cockily. "Maybe we could skip a few courses..."
A massive banquet had been arranged in the cavernous dining room, and Buffy and Spike took their seats at the head of the huge table. Giles, Joyce and Dawn sat beside Buffy, but the two seats next to Spike were empty.
"Not that I'm complaining," he said, "but shouldn't my parents be here?"
"They had to leave," Harmony said, taking her own seat a few places down. "Daddy said it was some kind of official thing. Really important."
Spike frowned, but said nothing, and Buffy felt unease churn up inside her again.
He didn't have a best man: the only person he'd known long enough to fill the role had been Liam Donelly, Angel, who he'd shot dead last year after he tried to kill Buffy and Dawn. Spike was also not big on speeches, so he just stood and said, "Cheers for coming, eat up so I can go and shag my new wife," and sat back down again, with Buffy turning bright pink by his side and everyone else convulsing with laughter.
More successful was Giles's speech, which was rather touching and quite amusing. He toasted the happy couple and the bridesmaid, since no one else had, and received a watery smile from Joyce for it.
After a while, everyone filtered through into the gigantic ballroom, which was decorated all over with fresh flowers, and Spike held Buffy in his arms and danced with her, surprising her with a reasonably elegant waltz. And then as soon as he could, he led her back up the stairs to their suite, picked her up and crossed the threshold with her in his arms, and laid her down on the State Bed. He unplugged the phones, locked the door, and kissed her until she was dizzy.
"Can't believe we're married," Buffy whispered, looking at the ring on her finger. Spike placed his hand next to hers, their rings matching, and kissed her fingers.
"Believe it. I bloody love you, Buffy. I'll give you the stars."
"I don't want the stars," Buffy said, a little fiercer than he expected. "I just want you. Just you, and our baby, and that's all. I'd live in a hut with you and wear rags."
"'With you, bread and onions'," Spike said.
"What?"
"Poem, love. Means I don't want anything else but you. Not the house, not the money, not any of it. I'd live on bread and onions with you."
"If all this was taken away you'd still want me?"
"If everything was taken away. I wouldn't even notice. I just want you. You're the most precious thing in the world. Well," he touched her belly, "maybe one of two things."
Buffy looked at him for a few moments, touched the scar on his face, then ran her fingers up into his hair, felt the pale strands curl in her fist, and brought him down to kiss her. She pushed his jacket away and started on his waistcoat, fumbling with the buttons, keeping her mouth glued to his. Ethan could take it all away from them tomorrow, and she wanted to remember Spike, remember him all over, before his undying love turned to resentment that she'd ruined his life.
She couldn't manage his silk ascot and shirt and, laughing, Spike pulled them off, scattering buttons on the floor. He pushed down the narrow straps of Buffy's dress, found the zip at the back and pushed it down to bare her breasts, then her stomach, and soon Buffy was only wearing knickers and stockings and Spike pressed his ear to her stomach.
"I can hear its heart beating," he said.
"Listen harder. There's got to be at least three of them in there, despite what the doctor said."
He moved back up her body and kissed her breasts, one then the other, stroking and licking and sucking, and Buffy held him to her, caressing his lovely back, his beautiful cheekbones, trying to reach down and undo his trousers but unable to stretch past her massive bump.
Eventually Spike did it for her, taking off the rest of her clothes too, and they lay together naked in the middle of the giant bed, kissing languorously.
"I can't seem to stop kissing you," Buffy sighed.
"Not gonna hear me complaining."
"Well, you might," Buffy said, "because my mouth can only do one thing at a time." She pushed him onto his side and wriggled down the bed and caressed his buttocks, kissing his stomach and his groin, the dark hairs there, and then she ran her tongue up his long shaft and Spike sucked in a breath.
"Oh Jesus," he said. "Buffy, no - wait-"
Puzzled, Buffy looked up at him. "Why?"
He sat up, swung his legs over her, and lay down the other way, his head by her legs. "You were too far away," he said, parting her legs and putting his head between them. Buffy smiled, then she gasped, and then she went back to what she'd been doing before. It was a stretch, but they managed it for a while, until Spike pulled his head away and gasped, "Okay, enough. I want you now."
He flipped her on her back, knelt between her legs and drove into her. Buffy cried out, "God, Spike, don't stop," and he didn't. He was almost relentless in his search for pleasure - not just his own, but Buffy's too, and he slipped his hand between her legs to encourage her orgasm.
They came together, and Spike crawled up the bed to pull Buffy back against his chest and hold her there.
"God, I love you," he said.
"Likewise," Buffy panted, breathing hard. "Ow," she added, her voice small and exhausted, pushing at her stomach. "I think we got him excited."
She felt Spike's body shake with laughter against her back. "Not just him," he said, and kissed her neck. "I could go on all night."
"It's not even dark yet."
"Then that just makes the night even longer."