Business as Usual  by Lilachigh

 

Chapter 49     A Special Day

 

 

The room allocated for the wedding supper at the Sunnydale Bison Lodge was large and ornate.  The noise level was rising from the room next door where the actual ceremony was to take place but at the moment, all was calm in the banqueting area. 

 

Agnes Pringle surveyed her preparations with not a little pride. The tables were laid - white roses and lilies on green linen. Green ribbons on the back of each chair - even the cutlery had green handles and the glasses were tinged with the same rather unpleasant shade. It certainly wasn’t to her taste, but then she was a traditionalist and had to remember that modern girls liked things to be different.  Although she couldn’t really call Anya modern, could she?

 

She’d been very worried about taking on the catering for the ex-demon’s wedding to Xander Harris; there was so much on her mind at the moment.  Spike’s increasingly odd behaviour was worrying her and she was still no further forward with finding a vampire teacher and doctor for the little group of children she was now looking after almost full time.  Eric and Nancy’s mother had never returned home and even the most optimistic vampire would have given up hope by now that she ever would.

 

The children didn’t say a lot but Agnes knew they understood, even the little girl. They no longer asked for their mother. Vampire children learnt not to at an early age.  Desperate to keep them occupied, Agnes had been glad of the wedding. They’d enjoyed helping her with the baking and decorating and together with some of the other vampire children, they’d agreed to help wait at the table and serve the food because, as Anya put it so succinctly, the human waiters would turn and flee when faced with some of her wedding guests.

 

But when Anya had insisted that she wanted Agnes to cater for her wedding, her first thoughts had been to panic and say it wasn’t possible. There would be Unturneds there, including, of course, Buffy Summers, the Slayer.  Of course, with so many demons also included in the wedding party, it meant that the Slayer’s ability to spot one small, plump vampire would be greatly decreased.

 

But Anya had been so persuasive. “Agnes, just think of the different sorts of guests that have to be fed!   Ordinary caterers could manage Xander’s side but demons eat different food and even though I’ve given up that world, they are still my friends and I won’t disrespect their rather odd preferences. You can cook both types and oooh, one of your lovely cakes. Three layers and can the icing be green?  That’s the colour of the bridesmaid’s dresses and I want everything to be perfect.  Now do say you’ll do it.”

 

Agnes had hesitated - green icing?  She had the feeling that perhaps Anya had never read Peter Pan and the fate that had awaited children who ate cakes iced in green. But she said she would give an answer very soon, then waited for Spike to come round so she could ask for his advice.

 

 He’d only visited the Willow Tree Tearooms once or twice recently and had seemed  distracted, almost vague. If Agnes hadn’t known better (she had a lot of experience with gentlemen who had taken drink) she would have said he was drunk, but he wasn’t.  No, he just seemed weird, zooming from very high spirits to deep depression within seconds. And the cuts and bruises on his face recently convinced her that he’d been fighting, although he’d just shaken his head and shrugged off her concern.

 

“Don’t fuss. I’m OK.  Been turning the other cheek and all that!  You really don’t want to know the details.  Look - if you want to bake the wretched wedding cake, then do it, Aggie. Make up your own mind. I’m no bloody wedding expert.”

 

She’d hated to hear the exasperation in his tone - it made her feel she was, perhaps, being something of a burden to him, always asking for his help and advice.  And yet, she thought as she lay in bed the next morning, watching Snowy and the new cat playing tag around her room, she didn’t really ask him that much any more. The days of relying on Spike to guide her every step had long gone. 

 

She felt tears burn her eyes. When had that happened? When had Spike changed and the close friendship faded away?  She got out of bed and sat at her dressing-table, staring into the empty mirror.  She always brushed her hair in front of the looking-glass - a hundred strokes every morning - even though she couldn’t watch herself doing it - old habits died hard. But with every stroke of the brush, it was as if the stiff bristles were forcing the truth into her scalp. The truth was that Spike hadn’t changed that much.  Oh, there was definitely something going on his world that she didn’t know about but if he didn’t want to tell her, she certainly wasn’t going to pry!

 

No, it wasn’t Spike - it was her.  The past few years had changed her. The poor creature who had run from Los Angeles and Dear Richard no long existed. She wasn’t any braver - she had to admit that - but she’d grown used to being a vampire now.  She’d discovered the advantages amongst the areas that had upset her so much in the early days and she had her own dear Willow Tree to run and was making a profit.  Well - Agnes banged the bristle brush harder against her scalp in punishment at lying. Not so much a profit, perhaps; you could see whole days’ worth of baking vanish in an instant when certain demons arrived in town and refused to pay. But there were fewer of those incidents now than there had been at the beginning. Threatening never to cook slug, snail and scorpion cookies ever again had been useful.

 

She dressed for the day, facing the fact that she didn’t have to rely on Spike quite so much, pleased that she had justified her behaviour in such a sensible way. And if a little voice in her head wanted to insist that it was Spike’s apparent determination to spend so much time with Unturneds that was driving them apart, she chose to ignore it.

 

So Agnes had agreed to cater for Anya’s wedding; helped by discovering that there was an extremely handy sewer tunnel that ran right under the venue with a door leading up into the basement. So she had the perfect way in to deliver her meal. She hadn’t bothered Spike again but days ago she’d been forced to brave his crypt one night to ask a favour: some very special eggs, ordered from a demon supplier who provided her occasionally with ingredients for her more complicated recipes that were impossible to come by in Sunnydale, were due to be delivered any time now.  

 

“You see, Spike, I need the eggs to go completely bad before I cook them.  They make a very toxic egg nog which, according to Anya, some of her demon friends always use to drink the toast with at weddings and funerals. Unfortunately there is a small problem in that they smell disgusting and I really don’t want the Willow Tree to give off that sort of odour. So your lower crypt room would be ideal to store them.”

 

Spike had shrugged. “Put them where you like. They won’t bother me.”

 

“Thank you.”  Agnes hesitated. Her friend was sitting, staring at - well, at the carpet on the floor, as if he could memorize the pattern.   “Are you coming to Anya’s wedding?” she’d asked, trying to rouse him from the brooding lethargy that seemed to be consuming him.

 

He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound.  “Well, no one’s invited me, Aggie!  Can’t imagine I’d be on the top of Xander Harris’ guest list.”

 

“But you like Anya?”

 

Spike had shrugged. “For an ex-vengeance demon, she’s OK.  She speaks her mind, which not a lot of them do and God only knows what she sees in Harris, but yes she’s trying hard to make a new life for herself.”

 

The words “Is that what you’re trying to do?” tried to escape but she bit them back.  She couldn’t imagine that Spike was unhappy with his life. He was a good-looking, powerful vampire and although the chip in his head did make his life a little difficult, well, everyone had problems to cope with in this world, didn’t they, and worrying about something you couldn’t change was no use at all.

 

She’d left soon after, almost bumping into a dark, rather grubby vampire girl whose dark hair and black clothes did nothing for her, except, of course, Agnes tried to be fair, it would make her very difficult to see in the dark which was a plus when the Slayer was out hunting. She wondered if the girl was a friend of Spike’s and did hope that she wasn’t the one he was getting depressed about.  He had told Agnes many times about his Dark Princess and this girl, although she was no princess, was definitely dark.

 

Now it was the day of the wedding.  Agnes had been up all hours working on the final preparations: she was tired and her feet hurt because she’d thought it only right she should wear her best shoes that were smart but did have a tendency to pinch.  She eased her toes now as she stood, waiting for the ceremony to be over and for the guests to swarm into the room for their meal.  She’d sent the children down into the basement to have their own meal; she didn’t trust Brittany and Lashawn not to steal little titbits off the plates as they served them. But at least she didn't have to worry about serving the demon egg nog at the right temperature. There had apparently been some sort of accident - according to Clem - and they had all been broken. Agnes frowned: she only hoped the whatever high jinks Spike had been up to, they had been worth it. Those eggs had been expensive.

 

Sighing, Agnes glanced at the clock on the wall - she could tell by the buzz of noise that the ceremony hadn’t even begun yet. Well, it was the bride’s privilege to be late, of course. Agnes had often wondered what she would have worn if it had been her good fortune to get married.  In the old days it would have been white tulle she thought fondly, and even Dear Richard had been a traditionalist when it came to these sort of affairs.

 

She was drifting off into a happy dream where someone who was a cross between Clark Gable and Brad Pitt was gazing down into her face and about to lift a drift of white veil and kiss her - when - Agnes squeaked and spun round. Someone had pinched her - rear!

 

The man standing there - an Unturned and a very drunk one - leered blearily at her. “Hello, my dear. And who are you?”

 

Agnes, who had the sense to realise that he was so drunk he had no idea of her age, fought down the urge to pour a bowl of cold Oubliette Soup over his head.  It had taken her too long to make and she’d never recover the live spiders once they’d escaped.

 

“Oh, I’m just the hired help,” she murmured and pushed a plate of sticky Chelsea buns under his nose. 

 

“Now, now, you can’t fob me off like that,” he muttered, swaying gently. “Give us a kiss, then.”

 

Agnes reached reluctantly for the soup tureen, but then the door banged open and she turned, her relief at being rescued turning to terror as Buffy Summers, resplendent in green, hurtled down the room towards them.

 

“Mr Harris! Stop that!  I’m so sorry, is he bothering you?”

 

“What, no, no, not at all, well, maybe he needs a nice cup of black coffee.”  Agnes slid backwards a few paces. The Slayer seemed to be far too preoccupied with guiding Mr Harris out of the room to realise she’d been talking to a vampire, but at any second she might and then...

 

“We can’t find Xander - that’s why there’s a delay,” Buffy called back as she firmly towed her charge back towards the ceremony room.  “And you’re the lady my sister Dawn worked for, aren’t you?  That was nice of you - to give her a job. I do hope she was no trouble.”

 

“Dawn - oh yes - oh no, I mean - sweet girl. No trouble at all.”

 

“I’d love to stop and chat but can’t right now. Hopefully there’ll be a chance later. See you.”

 

Agnes gulped as the door swung shut. She could only hope that the Slayer would have far too much on her mind to remember later on.

 

Hours later, Agnes knew her hopes had come true. Buffy Summers would not have the time or inclination to come and make small talk. Agnes gazed at the cake that would now never be eaten, at the plates of food, congealed and curling at the edges. The big brawl and finished and the guests had gone their separate ways.

 

A step behind her made her jump. It was Anya, her face as white as her dress, her lips a steel line.  “All your hard work, Agnes. All for nothing. I’m sorry.”

 

“My dear, you mustn’t - “

 

“Please - you can’t say anything that would help. But if you would like to take the cake home with you, I’m sure you can cut it into slices and sell it in the Willow Tree. Perhaps we could halve the profits. I hate to see a good business idea go to waste. Right, I must get on. Lots to do.”

 

And she was gone.  Agnes sighed, kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes in relief. She’d sent the children home ages ago through the tunnels, when it became obvious that there would be no party.  She’d go and get Eric and he could help her carry the cake back to the Willow Tree.

 

“That looks wonderful.”   It was the red-headed girl, the one who reminded Agnes forcibly of the chemistry mistress at her old school all those years ago, the one everyone had had a crush on one term until she ran away with the young curate at the church.

 

“Sorry you’re left with all the cleaning up but things are chaotic.”

 

“That’s quite all right. Such a dreadful shame.”

 

“A shame?”

 

“That Xander decided not to marry Anya.”

 

“Oh - yes, of course!  Yes, a shame, but then he can do so much better.”  Then, as if she realised she’d said too much, she leant forward across the table and sliced off a tiny sliver of cake.  “I’ve heard that if you put it under your pillow, you dream of the one who loves you most.”

 

Agnes nodded.  It was one interpretation, she supposed.  Gently, she took the slice from the girl and wrapped it in a serviette.  “I hope it works,” she said.

 

The red-head frowned. “I’ll make it work,” she said fiercely and left without another word.

 

The tunnel was cool and dark and Agnes couldn’t wait to get back to her own home. She was carrying the top layer of the cake and would have left the rest to be thrown out, but that might have seemed like the final snub to Anya if she had.

 

As she climbed wearily up the stairs, she could hear the children laughing and found her smiling as the sound lifted her spirits. While vampire children could giggle like that, surely their world couldn’t be all bad.

 

She walked into the kitchen and startled gazes swung in her direction. 

 

 

“What on earth - ?”

 

Something fat, wriggly and tentacled was happily rolling across the table top.  Eric looked scared then said, “We didn’t steal it, Aunt Aggie, honestly.  That girl Dawn gave it to me to look after and then later told me to throw it away.  But it’s cute. Can we keep it?”

 

“Oh can we?”  Nancy picked up the unwanted wedding gift and clasped it to her chest, her eyes like stars.

 

Agnes found herself smiling.  “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I wonder if it likes cake?”

 

tbc