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How Much?

By Rach


AUTHORS NOTE: Some of the dialogue is written as it would be read in a Geordie accent. Beware!

“Fred?”

“Mm-hmm?”

Wesley shifted the young woman on his knee slightly so that he could see her face. He looked around his office noticing small things; tiny cracks in the paintwork, a slightly crooked frame on the wall. He sat in there almost every afternoon with Fred, and yet she was so beautiful he hardly even saw what was on the walls around him. He took in a deep breath.

“You know how you’ve been asking if you can meet my mother?” Fred nodded. “I’m still not sure I’m ready to go back there, but how would you like it if we went and spend a week or so in England? I could show you where I grew up, and it would give us both a holiday that I think we deserve.”

Fred’s eyes shone. “Really? I’ve always wanted to go to London, in all the books it sounded so pretty, so different … so romantic. I always thought I’d go with the man I loved.”

“Oh, well if you’d rather wait for him, I can cancel …” Wesley grinned as Fred swatted him on the arm.

“You know what I mean. I love *you*!”

”Well I’m glad you want to, because the tickets are non-returnable.”

”You’ve booked already?”

“I got a good deal.”

“So when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?! I can’t be ready for tomorrow!”

“Now if you were Cordelia, I’d agree. But as you aren’t, and as I’ve already packed some things for you, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree. All you have to do is pick up a few things – toothbrush, other odds and ends you might want to take. I’ve packed clothes and shoes – Cordelia helped me so I think I might have things for every eventuality, including earthquakes, volcanoes and zombie alien attacks from Mars.” Fred giggled. “So, we should probably get some sleep so we can be bright eyed for tomorrow.”

Fred jumped off his knee, and started to leave the room, stopping and turning when she reached the doorway. She looked back at Wesley, who’d already picked up a pen and started working. Maybe she was a bad influence on him – he certainly didn’t get any work done when she was around!

“Aren’t you coming to help me?”

“I think you can manage, and I really should get this done before we leave.”

“Are ya sure?” She smiled, and it was taking all his self-control to stop him from going with her. But he knew he had to finish his work, otherwise … well, there wasn’t really an otherwise. Grinning from ear to ear, he cleared his throat.

“You know that if I came with you, we’d manage anything *but* rest! As soon as I’ve finished this, I’m going to bed. You should do the same. I’ll come and wake you when it’s time to leave.”

Fred hated to admit it, but he was right. She knew she would need to be fresh for England, and when she was with him she couldn’t keep her hands off him.

“As long as you promise you won’t leave without me!”

“Would I? Besides, this trip is for you – there wouldn’t really be any point, otherwise, would there?”



***

It was three in the morning, and Wesley had been true to his word, heading to bed only five minutes after Fred had left him around six hours ago. He lay on his bed, his eyes tight shut, tossing and turning. Fred stood at the doorway in her dressing gown, watching him. She was so excited she’d been unable to sleep, but obviously Wesley’s problems lay far deeper than that. She knew he must be worried about the possibility of seeing his father again, but she’d hoped he might talk to her about it, instead of keeping it bottled up inside.

Noiselessly she padded barefoot into his room, and lifted the covers on one side of his double bed. She managed to slip into the bed without waking him, and turned onto her side so she was able to hold one of his hands. Although he didn’t wake, he seemed to visibly calm almost instantly, which made her feel better. Knowing that he was with her, and he wasn’t hurting, calmed her down considerably, and within minutes, she too was asleep.

***

Three hours later, Fred awoke to the sound of Wesley’s voice softly calling her name, and the smell of coffee. She rubbed her eyes, and pushed herself up in bed, to see her boyfriend standing in the doorway still wearing his pyjamas. He was carrying a tray laden with croissants and coffee, and he smiled when he saw she was awake.

“Morning,” he whispered. “I brought you breakfast.”

“What time is it?” She yawned.

“Six am. We have to leave for the airport by seven thirty if we want to beat the traffic.” He settled himself back down on the bed next to her and handed her a cup of coffee and a croissant, then took one for himself. “It was a nice surprise to see you when I woke up this morning. What happened?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I could hear you moving about so I came to see what you were doing. You were rolling around like there was no tomorrow, Wesley. I had to get into bed and hold your hand before you calmed down? Then I must have fallen asleep. What were you dreaming about?”

“My father. I think we should go and see him and mother. I need to face him again, so I can prove to both him and myself that I’ve got farther in my life than he ever expected me to, and I’ve got a beautiful girlfriend as well. He needs to know that he might have ruined my childhood, but he hasn’t ruined the rest of my life as well.”

“I’m proud of you, Wesley. I was hoping you would realise that. Plus, I wanna meet your mom.”

“I know you do.” He leaned over and kissed her.

“This is a nice way to wake up.”

“And I hate to spoil the moment, but we’d better finish eating and get ready to leave.”

***

Fred slept the entire length of the flight to England, spending most of the time with her head on Wesley’s shoulder. By the time the plane landed at Heathrow Airport, they were both completely stiff and ready to drop. Once they’d collected their baggage, Wesley found a cab and they left for Surrey, to meet the elder generation of Wyndam-Pryces.

The cab ride was tense, Fred nervous about meeting the man who had made Wesley so miserable and insecure for years, and Wesley nervous about re-meeting him. The cab pulled up at the end of a driveway leading to a large Victorian house. While Wesley paid the driver, Fred stood, amazed. Picking up their luggage, Wesley led the way up the drive, Fred trailing only slightly behind, taking it all in.

Wesley paused, his finger hovering over the doorbell. “I’m not sure about this, Fred, maybe we should turn around and –“ Before he could change his mind, the door opened, to reveal a slender lady in her early fifties with grey hair that was almost white. Her expression one of amazement, she stared and Wesley for a good thirty seconds before either of them spoke.

“Wesley?” His mother’s voice came out as barely more than a whisper. Wesley swallowed hard, and nodded, trying to keep back the tears. His mother swept him up in a huge hug, her eyes closed, facing Fred. Fred stood awkwardly, not sure where to look or what to do. After what seemed like an eternity, Wesley pulled away from the hug and stepped back next to Fred, holding his hand out. She took it gratefully, and moved closer to him.

“Mother, this is Winifred Burkle, my...” he hesitated. Neither of them liked using the words ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ – they thought they sounded too childish. He looked into Fred’s face, then back to his mother. “...this is the woman I love. Fred, this is my mother, Margaret.”

His mother looked intently at Fred, and then held out her hand. “Call me Molly.”

Fred let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and smiled, taking Molly’s hand and shaking it. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Molly? Who’s there?” A booming voice came from inside the house. One glance at Wesley’s face and Fred knew whom it belonged to. He noticed her looking at him, and gave her a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but came out as a grimace.

Wesley signalled to his mother not to speak, and he entered the house, Fred behind him. Leaving their baggage on in the corridor, he entered the first room he came to.

“Father.” There was no love in the voice that spoke. Fred had never heard him sound so cold.

“Oh, its you. What do you want?”

“I’ve brought someone to meet you.” He held his hand out to Fred, who took it and entered the room. “Father, this is Fred.”

Fred held her hand out tentatively. “Nice to meet you, Mr W-“ She was interrupted before she could finish.

“And?”

“I thought you’d like to meet her.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her. And anyway, do I need a reason to bring someone into my home?”

“This isn’t your home, it hasn’t been your home for a long time, and to be honest, you aren’t welcome here.” Fred was completely dumbstruck. How could anyone speak to their son like that?

“Father, come into the kitchen with me.”

“No. Why should I?”

”I want to speak to you alone.”

“Then tell the Yank to leave.”

“No. You will come and speak to me in the kitchen right now.” Fred smiled to herself. This was a side of Wesley she liked, strong and in charge. Wesley’s father refused to leave his place on the couch, so she told Wesley she’d wait outside for him. As much as she wanted him to get the upper hand on his father, she could see he was fighting a losing battle. She kissed him on the cheek, and whispered into his ear that she knew he could do it.

Before she was even out of the door, she heard his father shouting.

“What the hell do you think you are doing? Are you trying to drag my reputation down even further than it is already? Fired by your slayer – that’s not a thing a father easily lives down, you know. Now you’re supposedly “in love” with an American? This isn’t on. I want the both of you on the first plane back to that place, and I don’t want to see you again.”

“Father. I know you’ve never remotely respected me, but that’s fine. I can live with that. But I will not have you degrading Fred. I love her, and she treats me a darned sight better than you ever did. I just wanted to come here to show you that I’m not a complete failure, like you wanted. In fact, I think I’m happier than you’ve ever been, and I’m certainly not a bully like you.”

Fred jumped as she heard the sound of hand on flesh. “Father, if I had any respect left for you at all, you would have just lost the last shred of it. Instead, you’ve just confirmed to me what I already knew.” As Wesley exited the room, a determined look on his face, Fred ran to him.

“Your cheek – does it hurt?” She rubbed it gently.

“Not now you’re here. Come on, Fred – we’re leaving.”

“Leaving? But we just got here. Wesley it’s eight o’clock in the morning. I just want to go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I can’t stay in the same house as him a second longer. I’m taking you on a quick tour of my favourite places before we leave – we need to catch the train. I know it’s not the best, but you can sleep there, the journey will take about four hours. We’ll find somewhere to stay when we get to York.”

Reluctantly, Wesley bade his mother goodbye. Her hugged her tight, as he told her that she had to know there was always somewhere for her to stay in LA, and he was only a phone call away.

“I know, honey.”

They spent the next few hours travelling from train to train on the underground, until they reached Kings Cross station and boarded the train to York. Once they’d found seats, Fred snuggled herself down into Wesley and listened sleepily as he told her stories about his uncle in Newcastle. Every chance he got, he stayed there. He was an uncle on his mother’s side, and he spent the best times of his life there.

Once they reached York, Wesley found them places in a small Bed & Breakfast, where Fred collapsed on the bed and promptly fell asleep, while Wesley reacquainted himself with the joys of English TV.

They spent the rest of the day casually, lazing around, sleeping, and watching TV. The next day, Wesley showed her around the city. She loved the Minster, and the whole town had a rustic beauty that she loved. That night they took a “Ghost Tour”, going around the city with a guide who pointed out the more haunted parts of the city.

The next morning they caught another train, this time to Newcastle. Unable to visit his uncle as he was at work, they spent the afternoon shopping, buying souvenirs for Cordelia, Angel, and Gunn.

The day before they were due to fly home, from Newcastle airport, Fred had one of the strangest experiences of her life. Wesley took her to a football match – at least that’s what he called it – she remembered seeing the game on TV at home once, and it had been soccer then. She took everything in with wide eyes, from the programme sellers – “Perogerammes, getyer perogerammes heyur” – to the game itself. Wesley did his best to explain the rules, but still, when the opposition – she quickly checked the scoreboard – Everton, seemed to have scored, Wesley jumped out of his seat with the rest of the Sunderland fans and yelled “OFFSIDE!” She didn’t know what he was talking about, and so he promised to explain it to her later. At one particularly dull part of the match, she realised she was cold and snuggled into Wesley, who promptly held her tightly and kissed her on the lips.

“How man! Gerra room or watch the geam.” They laughed.

“Sorry!” shouted Wesley, but his apology was drowned out by the sound of the crowd roaring as Sunderland scored.

After the game, Fred had never felt so alive. She didn’t have a clue why the game hadn’t caught on in America.

***

Wesley sat on the sofa in the foyer of the Hyperion, completely tired out. Fred leaned against him, the complete opposite. She hadn’t stopped talking since they arrived back in the country.

“And then they thought that the other team had scored, but the hadn’t, because it was outside, and then-“

Wesley smiled. With his eyes still closed, he corrected her. “Offside. It was offside.”

”Yeah. That’s it. Offside. And then the goodies ran down the other end and one of the men in red tripped over and the umpire-“

“Referee”

“The referee gave them a penalty. It was a penalty, right?”

”Yes, Fred.”

“And then –“

“FRED!” Cordelia yelled. “You’re tiring *me* out here, and I only just got up. Can we calm down a bit?”

“Sorry.”

”I’m glad you had a good time, Fred,” Angel added. “When’s the next trip.”

Wesley opened his eyes warily. Not for a long time. Do you have *any* idea how much this girl has cost me?!”

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