Business as Usual (Christmas Special1)
Title: Business as Usual
Author: lilachigh
Written for Christmas ficlet request for pfeifferpack
Not Very English
Agnes had many complaints about being a vampire - never seeing the sun, having to drink blood - she’d been allergic to liver as a child - and, of course, being forced to mix with people whom she would normally have crossed over the road to avoid.
There were advantages as well, of course. Seeing and hearing better, cold hands for making pastry, never growing any older - all were pluses in her eyes. However, as she struggled to put the fairy on the top of her Christmas tree, she did wish she could have been brought back to life a foot taller! Would it, as the hero of Fiddler on the Roof had said, “have made a difference to the great eternal plan” ? She’d managed to decorate the lower branches quite easily, but the top was just out of reach - unless she stood on a chair.
Agnes eyed the seats in the tearoom. It wasn’t that she was fat - goodness, she didn’t even think she could call herself plump! - but perhaps she was just a tiny bit heavy to stand on one of the rather frail chairs. Still, a Christmas tree was not properly dressed without its fairy, so she had no choice.
Personally, she preferred a star, but she was never quite sure as to the various gods and deities the demon world of Sunnydale worshipped and it would not be good for business to alienate anyone.
She was about to haul herself upwards, wobbling violently as she did so, when she was grasped firmly round her waist and lifted that extra foot into the air.
Guessing that struggling would only make matters worse - Agnes had the nasty feeling that her skirt was rucked up way too high - she pushed the fairy down on top of the tree and, gratefully, was lowered to the ground.
She turned round, expecting Spike and then squeaked. A tall, dark, extremely good-looking man was standing there, wrapped in a long black cloak, his eyes sparkling.
“Oh, thank you so much! How very kind. You’ve saved me from a nasty fall. I’m not actually open for business at the moment, but do let me make you a nice cup of tea. Or would you prefer coffee? And a slice of cake? The carrot is particularly nice today, very - moist.” She could tell immediately that the man was a vampire: he would probably appreciate the blood she’d added to the mixture.
The vampire sat down, resting his head on his hand in a theatrical fashion. “Tea - yes, do you have Oolong? That would be exquisite, with just a touch of lemon.”
“I have English Breakfast,” Agnes said firmly. “You are welcome to that without milk.”
The vampire sighed. “Thank you, dear lady. I am sure it will be most refreshing.” He raised his head and Agnes got the strong impression that the theatrical attitude was just that - theatrical. His eyes were far too intense and intelligent. “An English tea-room is unexpected - a welcome oasis in the midst of California.”
Agnes busied herself with her best cup and saucer. “Just passing through town?”
The vampire stared absentmindedly around the tearooms. “No, I am here because I heard that an old - protagonist - of mine had died. I thought I would pay my respects at her grave, remember the good old days, how we fought, how we laughed, how we - ”
“Bloody hell, you’re still the best liar this side of Hell!”
Agnes splashed boiling water all over the carrot cake as Spike appeared up the basement steps. He stood, glaring down at the dark haired vamp.
“Spike!”
“Drac.”
Agnes squeaked again. “Drac - oh dear, do you mean - all the stories you’ve ever told me - he’s here, in the Willow Tree?”
Spike sighed and flung himself into a chair opposite the vampire. “Count Dracula, may I introduce Miss Agnes Kathleen Pringle?”
The Count stood and taking Agnes’ hand, kissed it. “What a beautiful name.”
“Oh come off it, Drac! There’s no need for all the poncy attitude. What the hell are you doing in Sunnydale again?”
Agnes was still staring at the Prince of Darkness, her hand tingling where his lips had touched it. Royalty - in her tearoom! Oh, if only her mother was alive to see this. Oh, how she wished Veronica Badsworth - the lady who used to run her rival tearooms in Winchester - could see this. Veronica continually boasted of the time two Bishops dropped in for afternoon tea. She had a Count! European royalty, no less. “He said he was visiting a grave.”
“I heard of Miss Summers’ unfortunate demise. I thought it only seemly, seeing as I was in the vicinity, to pay my respects.”
“Rot!” Spike glared at him. “You heard the Slayer was dead and decided to see if the town was wide open or not. Well it isn’t.” He leant forward and vamped out, his eyes glowing with golden anger. “Listen Drac, you really, really don’t want to be around this town any longer than you need to be. And if you go anywhere near the Slayer’s grave, you’ll have me to deal with!”
Sometimes it was more important to retreat gracefully, Count Dracula decided. But, he never liked to leave without one little victory. He turned his brooding gaze on Agnes: this woman was important to William the Bloody, he sensed that. So he would take her away from him. He smiled at the dazed expression on her face; he had seen that so many times on so many women. He knew that if he pushed, mentally, just a little harder, she would be his forever.
Suddenly he realised that Agnes was shaking her head at him. “I am so sorry, Count. But I’m afraid I have known True Love, even if he was a monster, and that does rather spoil you for being in Thrall to anyone else. And - although I know it is extremely wrong of me, and no offence to those present, but I never could quite take European men seriously. All that hand-kissing. It isn’t very English, is it?”
The Prince of Darkness wrapped his cloak round him. He was deeply offended. He would leave this horrid little town in a flock of bats and ravens. He would show this stupid woman and her pet vampire, exactly what powers Count Dracula could conjure up.
“Oh, and before you fly away, I hate to ask, but you do owe me for one cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake.”
The Count swayed a little, forcing himself back into his body. A roll of money appeared in his hand, as if by magic. “I have a £20 note. No dollars, I’m afraid.”
Agnes tweaked it away from him. “That will do very nicely. And here’s 2 dollars change.”
Drac frowned: it wasn’t that he was short of money, of course, but no one liked to be taken for a fool. “That makes your prices extremely expensive, Miss Pringle.”
Agnes looked stern. “No, I have also taken the £11 I believe you still owe Spike as well. Neither a borrower or a lender be. That is what my dear mother used to say. A good principle to live and die by, I’m sure you would agree.” She opened the tearoom doors. “It has been so very nice to meet you, Count. Such a pleasure. I do hope you have a comfortable journey, wherever you are headed and may I take this opportunity of wishing you a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”
ends
Author: lilachigh
Written for Christmas ficlet request for pfeifferpack
Not Very English
Agnes had many complaints about being a vampire - never seeing the sun, having to drink blood - she’d been allergic to liver as a child - and, of course, being forced to mix with people whom she would normally have crossed over the road to avoid.
There were advantages as well, of course. Seeing and hearing better, cold hands for making pastry, never growing any older - all were pluses in her eyes. However, as she struggled to put the fairy on the top of her Christmas tree, she did wish she could have been brought back to life a foot taller! Would it, as the hero of Fiddler on the Roof had said, “have made a difference to the great eternal plan” ? She’d managed to decorate the lower branches quite easily, but the top was just out of reach - unless she stood on a chair.
Agnes eyed the seats in the tearoom. It wasn’t that she was fat - goodness, she didn’t even think she could call herself plump! - but perhaps she was just a tiny bit heavy to stand on one of the rather frail chairs. Still, a Christmas tree was not properly dressed without its fairy, so she had no choice.
Personally, she preferred a star, but she was never quite sure as to the various gods and deities the demon world of Sunnydale worshipped and it would not be good for business to alienate anyone.
She was about to haul herself upwards, wobbling violently as she did so, when she was grasped firmly round her waist and lifted that extra foot into the air.
Guessing that struggling would only make matters worse - Agnes had the nasty feeling that her skirt was rucked up way too high - she pushed the fairy down on top of the tree and, gratefully, was lowered to the ground.
She turned round, expecting Spike and then squeaked. A tall, dark, extremely good-looking man was standing there, wrapped in a long black cloak, his eyes sparkling.
“Oh, thank you so much! How very kind. You’ve saved me from a nasty fall. I’m not actually open for business at the moment, but do let me make you a nice cup of tea. Or would you prefer coffee? And a slice of cake? The carrot is particularly nice today, very - moist.” She could tell immediately that the man was a vampire: he would probably appreciate the blood she’d added to the mixture.
The vampire sat down, resting his head on his hand in a theatrical fashion. “Tea - yes, do you have Oolong? That would be exquisite, with just a touch of lemon.”
“I have English Breakfast,” Agnes said firmly. “You are welcome to that without milk.”
The vampire sighed. “Thank you, dear lady. I am sure it will be most refreshing.” He raised his head and Agnes got the strong impression that the theatrical attitude was just that - theatrical. His eyes were far too intense and intelligent. “An English tea-room is unexpected - a welcome oasis in the midst of California.”
Agnes busied herself with her best cup and saucer. “Just passing through town?”
The vampire stared absentmindedly around the tearooms. “No, I am here because I heard that an old - protagonist - of mine had died. I thought I would pay my respects at her grave, remember the good old days, how we fought, how we laughed, how we - ”
“Bloody hell, you’re still the best liar this side of Hell!”
Agnes splashed boiling water all over the carrot cake as Spike appeared up the basement steps. He stood, glaring down at the dark haired vamp.
“Spike!”
“Drac.”
Agnes squeaked again. “Drac - oh dear, do you mean - all the stories you’ve ever told me - he’s here, in the Willow Tree?”
Spike sighed and flung himself into a chair opposite the vampire. “Count Dracula, may I introduce Miss Agnes Kathleen Pringle?”
The Count stood and taking Agnes’ hand, kissed it. “What a beautiful name.”
“Oh come off it, Drac! There’s no need for all the poncy attitude. What the hell are you doing in Sunnydale again?”
Agnes was still staring at the Prince of Darkness, her hand tingling where his lips had touched it. Royalty - in her tearoom! Oh, if only her mother was alive to see this. Oh, how she wished Veronica Badsworth - the lady who used to run her rival tearooms in Winchester - could see this. Veronica continually boasted of the time two Bishops dropped in for afternoon tea. She had a Count! European royalty, no less. “He said he was visiting a grave.”
“I heard of Miss Summers’ unfortunate demise. I thought it only seemly, seeing as I was in the vicinity, to pay my respects.”
“Rot!” Spike glared at him. “You heard the Slayer was dead and decided to see if the town was wide open or not. Well it isn’t.” He leant forward and vamped out, his eyes glowing with golden anger. “Listen Drac, you really, really don’t want to be around this town any longer than you need to be. And if you go anywhere near the Slayer’s grave, you’ll have me to deal with!”
Sometimes it was more important to retreat gracefully, Count Dracula decided. But, he never liked to leave without one little victory. He turned his brooding gaze on Agnes: this woman was important to William the Bloody, he sensed that. So he would take her away from him. He smiled at the dazed expression on her face; he had seen that so many times on so many women. He knew that if he pushed, mentally, just a little harder, she would be his forever.
Suddenly he realised that Agnes was shaking her head at him. “I am so sorry, Count. But I’m afraid I have known True Love, even if he was a monster, and that does rather spoil you for being in Thrall to anyone else. And - although I know it is extremely wrong of me, and no offence to those present, but I never could quite take European men seriously. All that hand-kissing. It isn’t very English, is it?”
The Prince of Darkness wrapped his cloak round him. He was deeply offended. He would leave this horrid little town in a flock of bats and ravens. He would show this stupid woman and her pet vampire, exactly what powers Count Dracula could conjure up.
“Oh, and before you fly away, I hate to ask, but you do owe me for one cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake.”
The Count swayed a little, forcing himself back into his body. A roll of money appeared in his hand, as if by magic. “I have a £20 note. No dollars, I’m afraid.”
Agnes tweaked it away from him. “That will do very nicely. And here’s 2 dollars change.”
Drac frowned: it wasn’t that he was short of money, of course, but no one liked to be taken for a fool. “That makes your prices extremely expensive, Miss Pringle.”
Agnes looked stern. “No, I have also taken the £11 I believe you still owe Spike as well. Neither a borrower or a lender be. That is what my dear mother used to say. A good principle to live and die by, I’m sure you would agree.” She opened the tearoom doors. “It has been so very nice to meet you, Count. Such a pleasure. I do hope you have a comfortable journey, wherever you are headed and may I take this opportunity of wishing you a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”
ends