Author: Angel the Part-time Succubus (Angelia Sparrow)
Email: valarltd@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13, for erotic poetry
Summary: Willow and Giles get married in a Judeo-pagan-Anglican ceremony
Spoilers: Season 4 (Angel and Cordelia in LA, Buffy at UC Sunnydale)
Disclaimer: These are not my characters. They belong
to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB.
I receive no monetary gain for these stories.
Distribution: Any and all. You want it, you got it.
Feedback: Please yes. I want opinions, etc.
Author's note: Most of the wedding text is Song of Solomon.
The love speech is 1 Corinthians
13. The bit about seasons turning comes from a
Lughnasadh ritual for the solitary practitioner
that I found on the net. Some of the translation
is a bit free. I was working from a King James
Bible and wanted a little less formality for the preacher.
Dedication: For my husband of ten years, Richard.
For my lycanthrope, Charles, who pointed
me to the proper pagan sites. And always for Elaine
Sweet.
***
We come to this place
c 1999 Angelia Sparrow
***
"Xander, stop fidgeting with your bow tie or you're going to have to retie it."
"Right, Miss Shredding-her-Ribbons-until-they-fray."
Buffy and Xander sat down on the wooden bench at the park.
The rest of the guests were
already in the grove, and they were waiting for the wedding
couple. Buffy was uncomfortable in
the grass-green dress, and had toyed with the ribbons
on her floral crown until they were a little
tattered. But no one would notice in the torchlight.
The sun was setting.
Even though this was Sunnydale, the wedding was outdoors
after dark. Enough wards were in
place that anything bigger than a rabbit would get electrified
for approaching the grove. Buffy,
Cordelia and Xander had spent the day hanging things
from the tree branches. Apples and nuts
for fertility. Small bags of chocolate coins for
prosperity. Shiny trinkets and baubles dangled
from ribbons, signifying material wealth. Giles
explained the tradition was Norse, and his
family had descended from some Viking settlers of the
Danelaw.
They heard Wesley start the tape player. Irish harp
music drifted through the park, setting the
mood. Deciding on an officiant had been the hardest
part, and had ended with the official
wedding being earlier that day at the courthouse.
Ira Rosenburg had come very near sitting shiva for his
daughter, but Sheila had pointed out that
a daughter married to a goy was better than an unmarried
daughter. He had forgiven her, but his
face was a set stone as she had signed on the line.
He had also nearly refused to attend the
ceremony this evening, but Sheila had nudged him into
it. He wore his yarmulke and t'fellin,
the fringe of his prayer shawl looking almost as tatty
as Buffy's ribbons.
This ceremony was the religious one, the one that had
caused Willow and Giles so much trouble.
They had finally compromised on the local Unitarian minister,
since neither Rabbi Goldstein nor
Vicar Stevens would perform the mixed marriage, especially
with all the modifications.
The Irish harp gave way to "Hava Negilah" and Buffy and
Xander made their entrance. She
strolled nonchalantly, but Xander alone knew her nervousness.
His arm would be badly bruised
tomorrow. They waited at the altar for the bridal
couple.
The Masterpiece Theater theme began on the tape, and Giles
appeared. He stopped at the
torches near the edge of the grove, and announced in
a ringing voice, "I have come to this
place." The crowd, not knowing exactly what to
expect, turned and looked at him. He had
discarded the tweed and wore all green with a crown of
oak and hawthorne.
"He looks like Robin Hood," Cordelia whispered to Angel. He shushed her.
"I have come. Where is my beloved?" Giles
strode into the grove, pretending to search among
the crowd. "I have come to this place." He
announced a third time, and Xander left his position
by the altar, hearing his cue.
"Await her with me, my friend, for she will come."
The two men clapsed hands, and Giles
followed Xander back to the altar.
When they took their places, Buffy came to both of them
and kissed their cheeks. "I shall find
your beloved, my friend." She left her place at
the altar and went out the opposite side of the
grove. The guests heard the sounds of an argument,
and finally Buffy's voice rang clear. "I
summon you to the place of marriage."
She returned, leading an apparently reluctant Willow by
the hand. The bride was radiant and the
reluctance was all for show. Her dress was more
emerald than hunter, and set off her fiery hair
to the best advantage. She wore a crown of her
namesake, trimmed with rosemary and autumn
flowers. Wheat for fertility was braided in as
well, and rust ribbons cascaded down the back.
She walked about halfway down the aisle, and stopped,
pulling back on Buffy's hand. "I
summon you to the place of marriage, Willow Miriam Rosenburg,
in the names of Eloihim, and
Adonai."
Willow reached the altar, and made as if to flee.
Giles spoke again. "Where is thy beloved, O
thou fairest among women?"
She seemed to see him for the first time, and went to
stand beside him. "I am my beloved's and
he is mine."
Reverend Jones looked over the crowd, and announced in
a voice that carried even to the back
where the Rosenburgs stood, Ira still looking uncomfortable
and ready to bolt, "We come to this
place, tonight August first, by some called Lammas, others
Lughnasadh, to witness the joining of
this couple in holy matrimony. What will be is.
What was will be. The Wheel of the Year
forever turns. Dark to light, light to dark, each
season passes with lessons learned. We plant
with love, tend with respect, and at Harvest time our
yields reflect The bounty of our Lord, King
of the Universe. Now upon our humble altar, gifts
we offer the One. As each day passes, shorter
than the last, may we each be reminded of the seasons
that have passed. Of friends long gone, of
childhood's folly. May the joy of youth and the
wisdom of age lie upon the hearts of these two
as they wed. Rupert William Giles, do you take
this woman to be your wife? To have and to
hold, to love and to cherish, for richer or poorer, in
sickness and in health, until death do you
part?"
Giles answered, "I do. I, Rupert Giles, take you,
Willow Rosenburg to be my wife. To love and
cherish until death takes me or the world ends."
"And you, Willow Miriam Rosenburg, do you take this man
to be your husband? To have and to
hold, to love and to honor, for richer or poorer, in
sickness and in health, until death do you
part?"
Willow answered, "I do. I, Willow Rosenburg, take
you, Rupert Giles to be my husband. To
love and honor, until death takes me or the world ends."
"The rings, please?" Xander produced a ring from
his inner pocket, and Buffy from around her
finger. In rehearsal, Xander had actually gotten
Willow's ring stuck on his pinky, and that had
led to riotous jokes about him having to marry Giles,
and the Army's "don't ask-don't tell"
policy. They had decided the inner breast pocket
was much safer. Fortunately, Buffy's slim
fingers were small enough that no like mishap occurred.
"The rings of gold are endless circles. As the pure
gold is refined by the fire, so may their love
be refined by the trials of life, each burning away selfish
dross and leaving only the pure love.
place the ring on the third finger of her left hand,
and make your promises."
Giles knelt on one knees before Willow, and took her hand.
"Thou hast ravished my heart, my
sister, my bride. Thou hast ravished my heart with
one look of thine eyes, with one turn of thy
head. How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride!
How much better is thy love than wine! A
garden enclosed is my bride; a spring shut up, a fountain
sealed. A fountain of gardens a well of
living waters, and streams from Lebanon. Forever."
Giles slipped the ring on her hand with the
last word.
Willow took the ring from Buffy, and knelt before him,
holding his hand in her little one. "I
sleep, but my heart wakes; the voice of my beloved knocks.
Open for me my sister my love, my
dove; for my head is filled with dew, and my lock with
the drops of the night. My beloved has
gone down to his garden to the beds of spices, to feed
in the gardens and to gather lilies.
Forever." She slid the ring onto his finger.
"Set me as seal upon thy heart," intoned Reverend Jones,
placing his hands on their heads, "as a
seal upon thine arm; for love is as strong as death;
jealousy is cruel as the grave; the coals
thereof coals of fire, a most vehement flame. Many
waters cannot quench love, neither can
floods drown it. Paul said 'though I speak the
languages of men and angels and have not love, I
am a clanging gong or a tinkling cymbal. Though
I have the gift of prophecy and understand
everything, though I have enough faith to move mountains,
if I have no love, I am nothing. And
though I give away everything to the poor, and even donate
my body, if I have no love, it profits
me nothing. Love is patient and kind. It
is not envious or proud. It is not rude or greedy, is slow
to anger and believes the best; love rejoices in the
truth. Love bears all things, believes all
things, hopes all things and endures all things.
Love never fails, but prophecies shall fail,
tongues shall cease and knowledge shall vanish away.'
Love as Solomon write of it, and as Paul
says, and you shall be happy. All things have their
season. Again the wheel has turned and
brought us to the season of the First Harvest.
A time when we think about sacrifices and reborn
hope, a time when we reflect on what we have sown by
what we reap, a time when we gather our
memories, and from those lessons that we have learned,
we plan for the future."
He addressed the friends. "We have come to this
place for the joining of two souls. May I now
present Rupert and Willow Giles."
The couple rose, and beamed at the guests. The tape
player began again with the Byrds' "Turn turn turn."
The bridal couple left the grove and walked to the front
of the small pavilion pitched in the open
field. Buffy and Xander followed them, and stood
between them and the door. Angel handed
Buffy the broom he'd kept track of during the ceremony,
and Xander took the other end. They
stooped, holding it a foot above the ground.
"Jump beloved, leap adored," Xander said.
"And married be forevermore," Buffy finished.
Willow and Giles clutched hands and took a run at the
broom, leaping over it and into the tent.
He carefully tied the doorflap shut.
"Everyone, enjoy the reception, the couple will be with us shortly," Xander announced.
The cold buffet was laid out under the spotlights on the
ballfield, and there was plenty of
everything, most of it even kosher. Ira and Sheila
mingled with the others, but Ira pulled his
wife off to the side, "It wasn't bad, but can you believe
they are actually schtupping instead of
having pictures taken?"
"Ira, your mouth! It must be an English thing. Besides, we took plenty this afternoon."
"Willow actually looked pretty," Cordelia commented nibbling a sausage ball.
"Beautiful," Xander corrected around a mouthful of Chex mix.
"Who wrote the wedding?" Angel asked, a small glass of
punch in his hand. "Some of it
sounded very traditional, while most of it was obviously
from the Bible." He squirmed a bit,
still uncomfortable with the ceremony. But they
were his friends and would understand.
"I think they compiled most of it themselves," Buffy said.
"Amazing," commented a university professor drifting by
and catching the end of the
conversation. "The fusion of folkloric, pagan and
Judeo-Christian elements was almost
seamless. And I thought 'jumping the broom' was
more of a Deep Southern black saying than
an actual practice."
"Dr. Gilespie, isn't it?" Buffy shook hands. "Giles
mentioned your work on Pre-Columbian
myths of the California region just last week.
I'm Buffy Summers, history major. My advisor is
Dr. Franklin."
"Did you read Professor Giles' paper on 'El Boca del Infierno?'
A brilliant, if skewed version of
Sunnydale's history. I seem to recall hearing your
name before. Did you graduate about 99?"
The academic chitchat was cut short by Giles emerging
from the pavilion and announcing "I am
come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have
gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten
my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with
my milk; eat O friends; drink, yea
drink abundantly, O beloved."
The DJ spun "Hava Negilah" and the couple came out and
began the Horah. The Rosenburgs
were the first to join, but the circle grew to include
the entire contingent. They circled the
dancing lawn, laughing as the step-hop confused some
of the less experienced dancers. The joy
of Willow and Giles seemed to spill out over the guests,
and everyone hugged as the song ended.
The DJ started playing romantic songs, as Willow ducked
out, under his arm. He embraced her
and they made the rounds of their friends and relatives,
thanking each for coming. Some
couples started dancing. Willow went to her father.
"Daddy," she said hopefully.
"Oh, Peaches," he sighed and swept her into his arms. They waltzed away across the grass.
"Mrs. Rosenburg?" Giles asked.
"Mr. Giles," she answered, still unable to meet his eyes.
"Madam, rest assured you are forgiven for knocking me
senseless with a fire-extinguisher." He
waltzed her gracefully onto the dancing lawn.
"You really do love Willow," she said. "The wedding
was beautiful. I'm so glad she didn't get
into one of her witchy moods and get to chanting about
the Goddess and all that. Ira would
never have accepted it."
"We did incorporate some Wiccan elements, but as subtly
as we could. Not offending her father
means a great deal to Willow."
They danced silently and at the next song, Giles excused
himself to the punch bowl. He was
thirsty beyond belief after all the speechifying at the
wedding. Willow was dancing with Xander
and Buffy had sat down beside him.
"So, the groom is a little bushed while the bride is going strong."
"Er, yes. I came to her, the God in ascendance,
and she the Goddess in decline. Now I feel
rather in decline."
"Giles, don't take me there. Finish your punch and
dance with me." He set the empty cup down
and took her in his arms.
"Good of Xander to get leave, wasn't it?"
"He was lucky and had a sympathetic commanding officer."
"Your classes go well, and you'll be graduating next year,
Buffy. Have you given any thought to
grad school or a career."
"C'mon, loosen up. Don't do the 'Dad' thing while
I'm dancing at your wedding. Wigs me
out."
"Speaking of, I need to introduce you to someone."
He pulled her from the dancing lawn and
led her to meet a stern looking elderly man in tweed.
"Buffy Summers, my father, Charles Giles.
Father, this is my Slayer."
The older Giles looked the little blonde over. "She's
lived to a ripe old age, Rupert. You turned
out to be better suited for this than you thought.
No regrets about not being a grocer?"
"Father, I was 12."
"Your wife is very young, son. Be careful, she's probably fragile too."
"Father, she starts Watcher's training next week."
The elder Giles smiled approvingly as his son
went in search of his in-laws to introduce them.
"Never was assigned a slayer of my own, but I do follow
the reports, Miss Summers.
Congratulations. And be careful. Slayers
die. It's your role in life to die defending the rest of
us from the forces of evil. But don't do it too
soon. You mean a lot to Rupert." He turned away
to greet the Rosenburgs.
Buffy grabbed Angel and dragged him to the lawn.
Only then did she notice the music was a
tango. "Buffy?" he asked.
"Badness. Mr. Giles is a Watcher too, and laid it
on the line about me dying in the service of
humanity and all that. I need to dance and forget."
They tangoed gently, trying to avoid
eroticism. They small talked about LA and college
and all the trivia of their lives, until Buffy's
color returned and she relaxed.
"My turn," Cordelia cut in at the beginning of the next song.
At length, the bridal couple left in Giles' ancient Citreon.
Honeymoon plans had been played
very close to the vest, and no one knew where the trip
would take them. Giles had left a hotel
address for Buffy at his apartment, along with other
instructions.
Slowly, the friends and family began dispersing.
The Slayerettes began cleaning up the small
amount of remaining food and drink. They bundled
it into Xander's car and headed back to the
Summers' house.
"Good wedding," he said , driving carefully back to the
house. The wards at the park would
dissapate with dawn, but the streets were still unprotected.
"Very good," agreed Angel.
"Oz still on tour?" Cordelia asked.
"'Delia," Angel growled.
"Your lack of tact is amazing as always. He's in
Moorehead, Minnesota, on tour. He wanted to
make the wedding, but the band lives gig to gig," Xander
answered. "I caught their show when
they came through Kentucky. They're better than
they were." They unloaded at Buffy's house,
putting food away, and making sleeping arrangements.
Joyce was out of town for the summer
on a three continent buying trip for the gallery.
It was three AM.
"So, my sister, my bride, was your wedding day all you hoped for?"
"Yes, my love. It could only be more perfect in one way." She kissed him.
"And how is that, my darling?"
"Awake, O north wind and come wind of the south.
Blow upon my garden that the spices of it
may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden
and eat his pleasant fruits," she quoted.
"Again? You redheads are insatiable witches. But it is your wedding day and I shall persevere."
"I love you, Rupert," she sighed, as he lifted the crown
from her head and began loosening the
laces of her dress.
"And I you, my Willow, my tree planted by the water."
The kisses turned lingering. "Always
and forever."
The light of the small motel room glinted on the wedding
ring on her hand. "Forever," she
sighed.
Slayerettes danced at the wedding, and got brogans of pudding, breeches of glass, a slice of pie for telling a lie, and then came slithering home.