Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 5 - LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

He raised his son in the English way
And he taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
He sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone else's rules...

... It must be something much deeper than fear or pain
Another child learns the pattern, he won't break the chain

Fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise the next boy


(Rick Springfield Album - Living in Oz)




Chapter 5.03
Friday, June 14th, 2002


"How's the case going?" Wes asked, taking a long sip from the glass of red wine that he had ordered to accompany his pasta.

"The case is going fine," Marie responded with a tight little smile. "But that's not why you called, is it?"

The crystal peal of Wes's glass as his trembling hand replaced it upon their table seemed distressingly loud in the half empty restaurant. "No. No, it isn't, I'm afraid."

"So what exactly did your father have to say?"

"Bee?"

Marie gave a nonchalant shrug, tilted her head on one side and raised an eyebrow all at the same time in a combination of gestures that could have meant anything from, 'What do you think?' to 'Could be,' or even 'Well, it wasn't you, was it?'

Wes nervously swirled his wine as if he was savouring the bouquet, but when the liquid spilled over the edge of his glass to leave a carmine bloom on the white of the tablecloth, it was obvious his attention was elsewhere. Marie reached out and pressed her hand over his until the base of the glass rested squarely on the table. Her sad gaze travelled from the shaking hand she still held, up to meet Wes's eyes in a way that would have made him ashamed to do anything other than return her attention like for like.

"He-. Em-. He intimated that, in his opinion, it was inappropriate for a watcher to be involved with someone who had a half-demon child."

"And?" Wes found himself completely unable to judge Marie's reaction. Years of courtroom stand-offs schooled her features into an unreadable mask.

"And there was some sort of diatribe about the family name or some such."

Marie kept her voice decidedly neutral in tone. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'And what was your response to that?'."

"Em, well, I'm..."

"You agreed with him."

Wes hadn't even realised the warmth of Marie's hand until it was gone. "Well, yes, but not the way you mean." He rushed his words in an effort to explain. "I know that a sizeable proportion of the council would find our situation to be inappropriate, but they came to me and offered me the job, knowing that we were together and if there had been any mention of breaking off the relationship when they gave me that cheque, I would have ripped it into a dozen pieces. If I have to choose between you and the council, there really isn't any choice at all." Wes leaned across the table to gently lift Marie's fingertips from the table and this time she didn't move away.

"And if you have to choose between us and your family?" she asked in a soft voice that sounded almost timid.

Wes gave a small shrug. "My mother would never force me to make a choice like that. As for my father, I think my life might be greatly simplified if I were to sever my ties with him, but as much as I might think that, somehow, I've just never been able to make the break. After ten minutes with him, I lose track of which of my many shortcomings I'm meant to be apologising for. I can't guarantee that I'll not turn into a nervous wreck. I can't say that he won't twist my words until I'm ready to swear black is white, but what I can tell you is that, when all is said and done, my father's home is in England. Sooner or later he'll leave and when he does I'll be right here and, God willing, I'll be with you and Rosa. I just wanted to warn you there might be some rough sailing ahead."

"You think your father will make trouble for me? Querido, if he interferes with my family he'll find out the meaning of the word trouble."

---

Buffy looked up, yet again, from the book in which she was barely managing to pretend an interest. Every time the door of the library opened, she couldn't help but check whether it heralded her mate's return. Rotating the patrols sounded wonderful in theory, but when the rotation for the night meant that Faith and Spike were out and about while she was left to baby-sit Watcher Central, the practical side was infinitely less appealing. She was surprised to see Marie, in her post-work outfit of jeans, t-shirt and ponytail, slip through the library door. The brunette exchanged a few whispered words with Giles before he pointed her in the direction of the corner where both Wyndam Pryces were working.

Buffy lowered her head, reading the same paragraph for what she was sure was now the fifth time. This particular conflict wasn't slayer business. Of course, depending how things went she just might have to step in as Wes and Marie's friend, but for now she returned her attention, however briefly, to the text in front of her.

"I can't make any sense of this at all." She closed the book with a heavy thump.

Oz peered at the front cover and drew the book towards him. "That might be because I don't recall you taking German." He was about to swap it for one from his unread stack when Rupert nudged the topmost book from the central pile with his head so that it fell into the space Oz had made.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, kitty, I get the message. No rest for The Buffy."

---

"Really, Wesley, I'm sure you've forgotten half of what you learned at The Watcher's Academy."

"It's-. I just-."

"Never mind. I'll work from this one. Why don't you find something in English? That shouldn't be too taxing for you."

"Yes, fath... er." Wes stumbled over his reply as Marie came to stand in front of the desk he and his father shared, his embarrassment obvious.

Marie gave him a brief encouraging smile before the lines of her face hardened. "Mr Wyndam Pryce?"

"Yes?" The elder watcher looked up impatiently, scanning Marie from head to toe (or at least as far as his view was unimpeded by the desk) before dismissing her. "If you've come about one of the domestic positions I believe Miss Chalmers is dealing with the recruitment procedures."

"F-f-father-."

"Oh for heavens sake, boy, spit it out."

Marie refused to let the old man upset her. "I think Wes is trying to tell you that I have no need for any further employment. My position at the district attorney's office leaves me little enough time to spend with my daughter... or with your son."

"Aaaahhh." One word managed to convey a wealth of comprehension and not a little condescension. "Wesley failed to mention that you were Hispanic."

"I doubt that Wes considered it to be relevant, one way or the other."

"Under the circumstances... I suppose not," the old watcher crowed.

"And what circumstances would those be?"

"Father!"

"Querido?" Marie's eyes met her boyfriend's in an expression of sympathy. "Why don't you let your father explain what he means?" Her voice soothed Wes's frayed nerves like a potent balm, but if he had seen her at work in the courtroom, he might have realised that this was her at her most dangerous.

"I mean, of course, that my son's association with you is at an end. Wesley has returned to the watcher's council and as such he can no longer afford to maintain such an inappropriate relationship."

Marie held out her hand and Wes rose from his seat, walked around the table and took his place at her side. "Let us make ourselves clear. Our relationship will continue for as long as your son and I wish it to continue. Should you, or any other members of the council, try to pressure Wes into ending the relationship on the basis of either my heritage, or that of my daughter, you will find yourself contesting so many racism lawsuits you won't have time to deal with The First Evil, and when, at some future date, I bring my daughter with me to visit, should she be the victim of any abuse, verbal or otherwise, then I will happily arrange for restraining orders to be issued to the guilty parties."

Roger Wyndam Pryce rose from his seat, allowing him to stare down at Marie from his considerably greater height. "I doubt that any such measures would be necessary on our part. After all, the simple fact that there is no way that you could have been legally married to your child's father shows you to be an immoral who-."

Wes's fist smacked into his father's jaw, knocking his bridgework loose and sending it flying. In the hushed library, the sound brought all the 'Scoobies' to their feet ready to intervene if necessary.

"Father, I suspect that it's rather late for us to ever have anything resembling a civilised relationship and I cannot make you leave, as this is not my home, but I strongly suggest that you learn to treat all my associates, but especially Marie and Rosa with respect or-."

The strident sound of a vehicle horn ripped through the night. Beep, beeeep, beeeep... Beep... Beep, beep, beep.

The noise drew watchers and Scoobies alike to gather at the library windows. A sleek Japanese motorbike pulled a one-eighty in the gravel at the front of the building. Its rider was hidden by tight blue racing leathers and a helmet, but several people in the room recognised Ha Nath's outfit and motorcycle. Only two people recognised the lanky teenaged girl who was desperately holding on behind her.

Giles and Wes began to run toward the school's main door, but as Dawn and Brandon looked to follow suit Buffy laid a firm hand on each of their shoulders. "Where do you think you're going?"