TITLE: Happy Family.
AUTHOR: Fyre.
RATING: PG-13.
CLASSIFICATION: Anya/Wesley.
SUMMARY: A sequel to "Can't Choose Your Family."
SPOILERS: None really - set somewhere between Seasons 4-5 of Buffy and 1-2 of Angel.
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere that wants it - all you gotta do is ask :)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Wah!
FEEDBACK: Your feedback or your life...or something...you just want me to beg? Okay....Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: In response to Challenge #114, from YGTS.
DEDICATION: To Liz, for giving me my first personal challenge ;) Hope you like it, luv.


"Are you absolutely certain I can't dissuade you?" Desperate blue met stubborn brown, the former demon casting a warning glare up at her companion. "I'll take that as a rather affirmative no, then, shall I?"

"Your siblings are mean." Anya replied. "I want to meet them and tell them what I think of them being mean to you. Anyway, you asked me to come to the meal, as well as the bowling. It wasn't my fault the bowling was cancelled."

Wesley frowned. "I don't recall...oh!" He flushed to the tips of his ears. "I was rather forward, wasn't I?" Her bright smile made his heart melt. "Very well, I admit it, I asked you on a date, Anyanka. I never imagined you would agree."

In front of them, the door of the overly-large house swung open, an older version of Wesley standing there, a grin on his face. Looking from the young Watcher beside her to the older man, Anya compared them carefully.

With deeper lines around his still-youthful blue eyes, elegantly groomed and swept-back silver hair and non-synthetic teeth, the man still looked reasonably attractive for one of his age – which she guessed was around sixty-five or more.

If Wesley looked as dignified when he was old and wrinkly, the girl mused; he would be an acceptable companion. Still lean, without the floppy jowls so common in older man, he looked sophisticated.

"So, this must be the young lady Wesley has been blathering on about so much." He offered Anya a hand, bowing over hers and smiling at her. If it hadn't been for the jeans and pullover he was wearing, he could have been the gentleman in an old movie. "I'm Edward Wyndham- Pryce, Wes' dad. And you are?"

"You just said he'd been blathering on about me...did he forget to tell you my name?"

Wesley stifled a chuckle. "Dad, this is Anya. Anya, this old twit is my father."

The girl looked him over again. "He did say that." She noted dryly. "Do you English people forget things a lot or do you just like repeating yourselves?" She smiled up at the older Wyndham-Pryce, receiving a brilliant grin in return.

"We just like to give young ladies like you the chance to hear our marvellous voices." Another male voice interrupted. Anya felt Wesley stiffen beside her and looked passed the older man in the doorway to spot one of the men from the rugby field. "So who's this little smasher, Wes?"

Gesturing both his son and Anya in, Edward stepped aside and disappeared off into the living room. "This is Anya, Philip." The bitterness in Wesley's voice was barely audible, but Anya had heard the tone too many times before, in the past. "Anya, this is my big brother, Philip."

For the second time in as many minutes, Anya's hand was caught and raised. "Delighted to meet such a beautiful young lady." Philip's green eyes met her brown, his most charming attitude coming to the fore. He brushed a kiss over her hand.

"Do you have a cold?"

"I...I beg your pardon?"

The former demon sighed. "You wiped your mouth on my hand. If you have a cold, I'll have to go and wash my hands to get rid of the germs. Do you have a cold?" She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I've been sick before. I didn't like it."

"No." Philip's expression registered confusion. "I don't have a cold."

Wiping her hand on the front of the tall, dark-haired man's shirt, she smiled. "That's good." She said, taking Wesley by the arm. "Come on. I want food. You said there would be food and I'm hungry now."

Leaving Wesley's eldest brother staring after her in confusion, she risked a glance up at the chuckling Wesley. "You," He said, as soon as Philip was out of hearing range. "Are bloody priceless, Anyanka."

"You weren't going to sell me were you?" Her brow furrowed in concern.

"It's just an expression." He gave her a warm smile, draping an arm around her shoulders. "I think I'm suddenly going to enjoy this evening very much indeed. Come with me and I'll introduce you to the rest of my family...or at least the ones who have some semblance of sanity."

Pausing, she moved closer to him. "Do they know what I used to do for a living?" She asked, making sure no one else heard.

"If you would like to tell them, you can." Wesley replied amiably, directing her in the direction of his father and a slightly younger, old man. This one hadn't aged as well as Edward, his face weather- beaten, but merry nonetheless. "Uncle Roger, this is Anya." The jolly-faced man scrutinised her with bright blue eyes that seemed to be the Wyndham-Pryce trademark. "So this is your new girlfriend, is it?"

"Girlfriend?" Anya flashed an accusatory look up at her companion. The former Watcher gave her a helpless shrug. "I suppose I am." She said, carefully selecting her words. "I haven't had a boyfriend since...Xander."

"Xander?" Roger Wyndham-Pryce enquired politely.

Anya's face twisted in pain. "He was nice and funny and well- shaped." She said. "But he decided he wanted someone...normal. I mean, he lives on the Hellmouth and his best friend is a lesbian witch and his other is the Slayer...how normal can you get?"

"Are you all right?" Wesley took her arm gently, suddenly aware that she was just a vulnerable human, no longer an emotionless demon. To be cast aside, just for her past must have been incredibly hurtful for her. Especially when she no longer had the ability to avenge herself, when she was hurt.

Nodding, the former vengeance demon glanced around, spotting the table laden with food and started towards it. "It as nice to meet you both." She called back over her shoulder, giving both the older men a bright smile. "But now, I want to eat."

"Can't have you starving, can we?"

Anya groaned inwardly, noticing who it was that was standing next to her, looking smug. "You must be hungry, Philip." Taking a plate, she grabbed some salad, trying not to wish evil thoughts on her 'boyfriend's family members.

"I could happily feast on your beauty."

"Pfft!" Wesley hid a grin behind his hand, as Anya turned to Philip. "You know, you could write the words inside greeting cards. They need people who can write stuff that sounds soppy, but no one really likes it at all. Especially not me."

"And yet, you still manage to get hooked up with my little brother." Another of the rugby men sauntered over to join them. He – too – had the green eyes like Philip. Apparently, blue eyes were the sign of the nice people in the family. "Did you know our sweet baby brother once got himself locked in the rabbit pen and spent the next two days hiding under his bed, in case the rabbits came after him?"

Anya glanced at the red-faced Wesley and felt a surge of anger. "That was the smartest thing to do." She said. "Rabbits can be horrible little things. They might have had rabies or anything." She patted Wesley on the arm. "You see, you are brave, only hiding from rabbits."

"Brave?" The second of the two green eyed men looked at her skeptically. "Are we talking about the same Wesley here? Our little brother is just a big crybaby, Miss. He used to cry when we let him play and he cried when we didn't."

The petite girl took a step towards the two tall men, her expression neutral. "You know what," She said, hands on her hips. "I think I know what you meant when you used to play with him. When I saw you playing today, I could see how you would make smaller people cry. You think you're so big and tough, but you pick on people who were smaller and younger than you because you were scared of anything bigger and badder."

"Well, this one is delusional and spunky, Wes. You know how to pick the crazy ones, don't you?" The one she didn't know the name of laughed, but without humour. "Little lady, if you're going to insult us, why don't you do it properly?"

The young Watcher by Anya's side gave a low groan of dismay, burying his head in his hand as the sandy-haired ex-vengeance-demon took up her battle stance, glaring up at the tall, extravagantly good- looking, dark-haired man.

"Very well." She said pleasantly. "You're both good-looking and well-mannered," The pair smirked. This girl's insults weren't that...good. "But, you spent your childhood tormenting younger children. You were cowards and bullies, using your build and strength to make up for the brains, appeal and abilities that you would never have. Even though you all had the same training as Wesley, I don't see you on the register of Watchers. You're from the same family, but you're nothing compared to your brother." She rose on her toes and added. "I think he's got a bigger penis than you too."

A small snigger from Wesley was echoed by one from his father. "You know, Wes." Edward remarked, leaning over the table. "I think I'm starting to see what you like about this girl. Is she always so...free with her words?"

"Always." He replied out of the corner of his mouth, ignoring the daggers his brothers were casting at him, eyes blazing with fury. "Anya, want to go and sit down somewhere?" She nodded, still smiling. "Let's leave my brothers to...their business."

Making their way through the crowds of people, they found a small sofa that had been vacated and settled down next to each other, Wesley handing Anya a plate of some kind of stodgy-looking meal, liberally slathered with gravy and sauce.

"What's this?" She prodded it with a fork, trying to decide if it was edible or if it needed to be slayed by decapitation.

"It's called toad-in-the-hole." The Watcher replied, hacking into the mass on his own plate. "It's one of my favourite meals."

She pulled a face. "You eat toad?"

Wesley gave her a wry smile. "It's not a real toad, Anyanka." He explained fondly. "Just sausages in a batter with gravy. We like to give our foods strange names just to confuse people who aren't from England."

"So you're sure it's not a toad? I tried toad once...I was sick for days."

"It's definitely not toad." He gave her a thoroughly schoolboy grin, making her feel all the more uneasy about the content of the odd-looking meal on the plate. "Out of curiousity, how on earth does a demon take ill?"

"I wasn't a demon when I got sick." Skewering a chunk of the steaming blob, she raised her eyes to his, then nibbled on the gravy- soaked mass for a moment, her eyes lighting up. "I was human." She continued, between bites. "I was undercover and the tribe I was visiting had a ritual that involved eating toad. I had to do it, before I could perform the act of vengeance. I was sick for days, before I could turn back into demon form." Licking her lips, she poked the meal again. "This is really very nice."

Sitting back against the cushions, Wesley watched her, his attention half-focused on his seething brothers, the rest on the pretty girl by his side. They were angry with him, and obviously weren't too keen on his 'girlfriend' now.

"Anya, Wesley." Interrupted by Edward and Roger bearing trays of desserts, the pair looked up expectantly. "Would you like a slice of spotted dick?"

The former demon almost choked on the mouthful of food she was chewing. "You give me toad and now you want to know if I want to try pimple-covered slices of males genitalia?" She managed to squeak. "I thought people on the Hellmouth were strange!"

All three men started laughing at the poor girl's obvious confusion. "It's a food, Anya." Edward tried to explain, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks and into his beard. "A kind of sweet cake, with coloured chunks in it. There's nothing to do with the male genitalia involved."

"We should have told you before." Roger agreed, fighting the desperate urge to grasp his aching sides, his large belly shaking like Santa Claus' in the movies. "I'm awfully sorry, dear girl. We don't often have Americans to visit."

Nodding warily, she looked down at her plate. "Maybe after I finish my slimy toad?" She raised her eyes to them, her innocence drawing amused smiles from the two older men. "I don't know if I'll have room for the thing with spots."

"Very well," With another nod, Roger moved off in the direction of the table, Anya's attention turning back to her meal, leaving Wesley and his father exchanging glances.

"Someone asked me if they could meet you in the garden, son." Edward spoke quietly, inclining his head towards the back door. "I'll keep Anya company for you, if you want to go and see. Cedric said it was an old friend."

Nodding, the former Watcher pushed himself to his feet. "I'll be back soon, Anya." He said, leaving his half-finished plate on the coffee table beside the sofa. Edward sidestepped him, then sat down to talk to his youngest son's new companion.

Weaving through the numerous people, the dark-haired man pushed open the French doors, stepping out onto the elaborately paved patio, the tinkle of the fountain crystalline in the quiet of the night.

"Hello? Is there anyone out here?" Behind him, he heard the door click closed and spun round to face the danger head on. "I should have known..."

The three standing in front of him smiled chillingly. "What, Wes?" Philip smirked. "No little girl to back you up?"

"I don't need her to back me up." He replied calmly. "I just wanted to see her make pillocks out of the three of you. After all, it is so easily done." A fist connected with his gut, but he anticipated it, doubling over, faking the power of the impact and sagging to one knee. "Ouch."

"You should know you can't bugger us around, little brother." Cedric remarked boredly, standing over the fallen one of the four siblings. "And dating a little firecracker like that bitch, someone who likes insulting us...well, its just asking for trouble."

"So, you don't care what I've been doing for the last year?" He feigned a gasp of pain, balling his fist against his gut, tensing his muscles. There was a pause.

"From what I hear, you're an out-of-work Watcher, nothing more than a book man, little brother." Cedric put in, grabbing a handful of Wesley's hair and tipping his head back to gaze down at the younger man. "All your days spent in the city library? Researching and reading and all that…"

Wesley grinned. In the last two years, he'd been in much more pain than he was now. He'd been tortured by Faith, he'd been beaten up by massive demons on more occasions than he could recall, he worked for a vampire and with a fashion-police ex-cheerleader. "Nope." He said.

Before his brothers could get another word out, the back of his head smacked up against Cedric's forehead, knocking his brother for six, his straight leg sweeping out and jerking Philip's feet out from him, his head cracking off the flagstones, leaving John – the youngest of the trio – as the last man standing.

Straightening up, Wesley inclined his head in an unasked question, half-daring his elder brother to try and challenge him. "You want to know what I've been doing?" He asked softly, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. He knew he looked like he was ready to fight and – if it came down to it – he would. "I'm not a Watcher anymore, as you know...but do you really want to know what I've been up to?"

On the ground, Cedric struggled into a sitting position, blood dripping from his burst nose, Philip grumbling under his breath and rubbing the swelling knob on the back of his skull. "So what have you been doing? Learning self-defence?"

Giving half his attention to Philip, Wesley's elbow snapped backwards the instant John tried to charge him, catching him in the sternum, his fist following the blow and smashing up against his brother's nose, shattering bone and knocking him back roughly against the trestle that covered half the wall.

"I got a proper job." He replied with a pleasant smile, still carrying enough threat to prevent them attacking again. "I work for a rather nice vampire. We fight demons in Los Angeles. A rather violent town, even if I do say so myself." He paused to wipe his bloodied knuckle with a handkerchief. "Also, I wouldn't recommend being tortured by an insane Slayer. It isn't the best way to spend an evening."

All three brothers were staring at him as if he were something out of "The Twilight Zone". He – little Wes – had beaten up all three of them, on his own, without even breaking into a sweat and now, he was telling them he had been tortured and worked for a demon. This tough, resourceful man couldn't be their childish crybaby of a spoilt brother, could it?

"Anyway," He continued conversationally, tucking his kerchief back in the pocket of his jeans and smoothing his novelty T-shirt down. "I should get back to Anya. I don't want her thinking I've abandoned her at dad's mercy again. If I recall correctly, she's not a good person to tick off."

Leaving the three dark-haired men sprawled on the patio, he stepped over John's legs and returned to the door, casually opening it and walking in. Closing it quietly behind him, he felt a smirk creeping onto his lips as he made his way back to Anya's side.

"You look just like Spike after he found out he could hurt demons. The resemblance is kind of creepy." Anya noted as he approached the couch, one of her eyebrows rising in unspoken question.

"Oh, I just had to battle my inner demons." The former Watcher smiled airily, his blue eyes dancing devilishly. "Some of them not so inner, though."

Sitting down on the arm of the couch, he couldn't hold back a grin as the door opened and his three brothers sullenly shuffled in, trying not to look beaten and bruised, but only succeeding in drawing every eye in the room.

"You really pummeled those demons of yours." Anya remarked under her breath, raising one hand to squeeze his thigh fondly.

The Watcher looked down at her, her brown eyes catching his blue. "Thanks to you." He said, cupping her face in his hands, brushing a small smear of gravy from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "You really are quite beautiful, Anyanka."

"Are..." Already breathless from his gentle touch, she swallowed hard and fought to get her words out. "Are we going to kiss?"

He gave her a cocky grin. "I could never refuse a lady." He murmured, lowering his mouth to hers, her hands sliding up his chest and grasping his shoulders, pulling her down onto the couch beside her.

Hands on her hips, he easily lifted her light weight into his lap, his arms snaking around her body and pulling her close. One of her palms cupped his chin, her fingers running through his dark hair.

Finally drawing apart for breath, the pair were both grinning widely at one another. "That was very nice." Anya decided, nestling against Wesley's broad chest, her head resting against his shoulder lazily.

"I would have to agree with you." Wesley brushed a kiss against the top of her head, her fingers twining between his, across her flat belly. He caught his father smirking at him out of the corner of his eye and maturely responded by sticking his tongue out.

They were still sitting like that half an hour later, when Edward Wyndham-Pryce got to his feet to give the traditional birthday speech, extolling the virtues that were part of being one of the family and the wackiness that was Roger Wyndham-Pryce.

Less than ten minutes into the speech, Anya gave a loud and deliberately placed yawn, grinning engagingly up at Edward. "Are you going to tell any funny stories soon, or can I go to sleep on Wesley's knee?"

"Funny stories?" He feigned shock. "About a Wyndham-Pryce? I doubt it, my dear. However," He gave his youngest son a sly look. "We would love to hear something about you, after all, we can't trust Wesley's besotted and biased opinion, can we?"

Anya arched an eyebrow. "Besotted?" She looked up at Wesley. "Is that another one of your long, English foods that's meant to be confusing?"

Murmuring awkwardly against her ear, he explained. "It means I like you. They want to know if you are completely barmy for being interested in me. They don't believe me when I say you're normal, so they want to see what you have to say."

"Do they want me to be...barmy?" She tilted her head innocently. "Because I could just tell them truth and they would think I was very weird."

"As long as you don't go over the top, I think we're safe." He muttered, lifting her to her feet and gesturing for her to join his father in front of the decorative fireplace. She gave him a weak smile, then stepped alongside the older man, folding her hands nervously in front of her.

Looking around the room, noticing that every single eye was on her, she found the three battered brothers glaring at her. The expressions on their faces suddenly made her think that liquefying their entrails might not be such a bad thing.

"So you want to know if I'm crazy, huh?"

Edward moved to one of the parlour chairs, a suggestion of a smile playing on his lips, his eyes flicking from Wesley's calm face, to Anya's lively one. Every family member in the room had worked for the Council in some context over the years, or had at least done the training, so this girl – who had been an associate of the most notorious Slayer – was of interest, naturally.

"Well...um...I'm Anya." She twisted her fingers together, examining the pattern on the carpet, as she tried to decide what to say. "I met Wesley when he was working as one of Buffy's Watchers on the Hellmouth. I didn't like him much, at first... or Giles."

She chuckled. "It's Giles fault I'm like this now." Everyone in the room murmured softly. They all knew who Giles was, by reputation. "We were in a parallel dimension and he smashed my necklace and left me as a stupid twelfth grader. It was really annoying. I couldn't get beer, when I wanted it."

"I can get beer now though." She grinned, warming to her subject. "Anyway, Wesley was real annoying when they learned about the Ascension. I didn't like him. I didn't like any of them, the Slayer's friends, because they made me stay this way. He didn't like me either, until I told him about the time I saw an Ascension."

Cedric interrupted falteringly. "You saw an Ascension before the Sunnydale one?"

"I just said that, didn't I?" She smirked. "I had been in the Causco valley, cursing a shepherd for being unfaithful." She fondly remembered that day. "His wife had wished that all his sheep were all the colours of the rainbow. I was sure he was going to have a heart attack, until the Ascension happened. It wasn't fair! I did a lot of work on those sheep!"

"Why would you curse a shepherd?"

A dreamy smile drifted onto her face. "Those were the good days. So many years of wreaking chaos and destruction on unfaithful men." She wagged a finger at Wesley's brothers. "I know all men suck, which is why I don't like your type. I've seen them too many times before. It makes me wish I had my powers back...although, not if someone wants the cannibal thing again. That was just gross." She made a face. "Its not all Fava beans and a nice Chianti."

"What is she talking about?" Roger leaned over the back of the couch to ask Wesley. "Is she always this crazy? Or does she just have a rather warped imagination?"

"Oh, she's telling the truth." Wesley winked over at Anya. "She never does anything but tell the truth. It's one of her best qualities."

"Honey," She chastised the dark-haired former-Watcher. "You know I would make your head explode if you were doing this to me before." He looked innocent. "That's better." Continuing, she smiled. "I know you all think of Wesley as a disappointment, after being dismissed from the Council, but not many people have the guts to work for Angelus...well, Angel. He used to be scary, but now he's just all dark and glowery and 'Oh, I wanna save the world' and everything."

Ignoring the uproar in the room, she cast a mischievous grin over at Wesley, who was maintaining his ice-cool exterior for as long as possible, his blue eyes glinting with amusement at her mock-innocent expression.

"You're saying Wesley is working for a demon?" Roger looked from the man on the couch to his girlfriend.

"And dating one." Edward's soft voice cut through the noise of the room, every eye turning to the older man. He was sitting casually, his cheek on one hand, arm propped on the chair's cushion, eyes settled on Anya's face. "Am I right, Anyanka?"

"I knew you should have been a Watcher, dad." Wesley put in admiringly, stretching out a hand to Anya, who happily traipsed back across the room and settled on his lap again, resting against his chest. "You don't mind?"

Edward's small smile overwrote the indignant cries from around the room. "Why should I mind that my son is happy with the former patron demon for scorned women? Just promise you'll never get on her bad side, son. I'd hate to see what she would come up with as punishment."

"I think after eleven hundred and twenty years, I know quite a bit about revenge." She added, her dark eyes dancing. She directed a stare at the three beaten brothers, who suddenly seemed rather nervous. "Especially painful stuff."

Roger shook his head with a low, rasping chuckle. "So, the only one of the bleedin' family who actually gets Watcher status ends up working for Angelus-with-a-soul and dating the former demon that destroyed men for being unfaithful. This is really just too ridiculous for words, you realise."

"Ridiculous or not," Wesley finally put in. "I don't give a damn. I'm enjoying what I'm doing, I work with some fascinating people and I have a gorgeous, older woman who is as young-looking as a teenager and is the most beautiful girl I've met."

"Keep talking like that, and I won't ever wish for my powers back." Anya murmured sleepily against his chest.

"I think I can manage that, luv." He replied, brushing her hair back from her face with one hand, tilting her head up to gaze into her dark eyes. A smile curved his lips upwards as he drew the former vengeance demon into a deep, hungry kiss, determined he would never hurt her, no matter what *some* members of his family said or did.

But a little voice in the back of his mind assured him that nothing his family could do would be able to separate him from the beautiful girl in his arms.

Sometimes, it was really very useful to have a demon employer who was quite willing to kick the crap out of anyone, for the sheer hell of it. Wesley smiled contentedly against the top of the sleeping Anya's head.

Very useful indeed.