A/N: I wasn't sure where to put this, since it's technically not a WxL story. [ducks behind a large rock] Don't kill me! But I thought it could still go here, since it does involve their relationship indirectly.

Ever wondered about the ancestors? Neither had I, until the plot bunnies intervened. I don't own any of the characters, but their names and personalities are my inventions. Enjoy.

"Oh, Mandy, don't cry."

"I c-can't help it!" the spectral bride wailed. "T-they were so happy and now...now..." A fresh bout of sobbing burst forth, even as Circe rubbed her back ineffectually.

Millie stubbed out her cigarette on a headstone and strode over to where the other two sat.

"Ozymandia Rain Addams, you're making a fool out of yourself. You cried when everything was fine and dandy between then, and now you're crying because they're on the outs!" She sniffed, needlessly smoothing her finger-waved hair. "In fact, I think it's you putting all these rotten ideas in her head."

Circe's gaze shot up. The ex-W.A.C. stood to look her flapper cousin in the eye.

"Millie," she said tightly, "you're horrible. How can you blame this on Mandy? Mandy, who wouldn't hurt a wasp! Perhaps it's your flippancy about love that got us into this mess."

"Oh, well, pardon me, I'm sure. God forbid anyone step on poor, sweet Mandy's toes. You know, Circe, I've always thought you seemed a titch too jazzed about-"

A burst of giggling from a nearby stand of willows cut her off.

"Why, Mr. Cain, you should know better than to talk to a lady like that!"

Millie rolled her eyes, taking a drag from yet another Lucky Strike that had appeared in her holder.

"Chastity, get your whoring fanny out here! We've got a crisis," she called towards the now-shaking trees. Mandy gave a little screan and clapped her rotting bouquet over her mouth. The offending ancestress glared down at her.

"Oh, put a sock in it, Queen Victoria. Your precious little great-niece isn't a virgin, let alone Chastity."

No sooner had her name been spoken than a pallid, translucent saloon girl emerged from behind the willows. Her feathered headpiece was askew, her lower lip pushed out in an angry pout.

"Can't a girl have some fun around here?" she asked petulantly.

"Not until love triumphs," Millie drawled in a passable impression of her grandson, Fester. "In case you haven't noticed, things are going to the dogs."

A quizzical look revealed that Chastity had not, indeed, noticed. Taking a deep breath, Circe attempted to defuse the situation.

"I believe it was while you were...um...behind Aunt LeBorgia's mausoleum with Cain. Wednesday wanted to elope, but Lucas tried to talk her out of it. Then she stormed off and he went back inside."

The dancer laughed, leaning on a couch-shaped monument. "Don't that little jane beat all! Just an hour ago, she couldn't get him unrigged fast enough! What she needs is a good, long-"

Millie cut her off. "Good grief, don't finish that sentence or Mandy might die again."

Once more, it fell on Circe to intervene as a renewed round of sobbing shook the once-flowered circlet and veil. She took the bride's hand and pulled her gently to her feet.

"Listen," she said firmly; "it does us no good to fight amongst ourselves. We must work together to overcome these obstacles and prevail."

"She's making history/ Working for victory..." the flapper sang under her breath in a mocking tone. Circe shot her a dirty look, but continued.

"Why don't we focus on someone else for a while? What about Morticia?"

The ancestresses eyed each other quietly. Only the distant hoot of an owl broke the moonlit silence.

"Alright," their de facto leader finally said, "I'll take that as agreement. Now, has anyone seen Silence?"

Right on cue, a fifth ghost emerged soundlessly from the edge of the nearby wood. Though she wore Native American garb, long, fair braids belied her deerskin dress.

"I've been standing here all along, you unobservant harridans," she said in the language of the Seneca.

Chastity sighed. "Silence, darlin', we all know you speak English. Please? We'd like to know what you're saying."

"But I choose to speak the language of my true people." More Seneca.

"Silence, darling," Millie aped, "we all know you are English."

Silence shot back, in her chosen tongue, "Only by an accident of birth."

The flapper and settler-turned-Seneca eyed each other scornfully. But as they seemed about to come to blows, Mandy surprised everyone by stepping between them.

"Circe's right. T-this bickering accomplishes nothing. If we're going to go tend to Morticia, let's be off."

Still glaring, Millie and Silence backed away from each other. The late Addamses seemed to shimmer for a moment- and then vanished.

All was once again quiet in the graveyard. Animals that had fled from the noise of the fight began to creep back into the bare trees. But about a minute later, a distinctly masculine cry went up from the opposite corner of the cemetery.

"She's so lovely! Why can't she see that I'm the one to wipe away her tears once and for all?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Quincey, cut it out!"

It was going to be a very long night.

A/N: Okay, time for some historical clarification. First, a brief dramatis personae:

Silence Addams (1740-1778; the Indian)

Chastity Addams (1852-1873; the Saloon Girl)

Ozymandia "Mandy" Addams (1880-1903; the Bride)

Millicent "Millie" Addams (1908-1928; the Flapper)

Circe Addams (1907-1948; the World War II Lady)

Male ancestors appearing or mentioned are Cain (The Pilgrim), Quincey (The Banker), and, snapping at Quincey, Merlin (The WWII Soldier).

The term "W.A.C." refers to a member of the Women's Army Corps- basically the women's branch of the U.S. military during World War II. The story of the WAC is both very interesting and too long for an already tl;dr author's note; Google it if you get the chance.

"Jane" is a slang term from the American Old West meaning "woman."