Business as Usual

 

by  Lilachigh

 

Chapter 52:   It won’t be me

 

 

Agnes woke suddenly, every nerve in her body on edge and tingling.  Her internal clock told her it was daylight outside, that she’d woken too early.  Had she been dreaming?  No, but as she lay there, gazing at the heavy flowered curtains that safely covered the deadly bedroom window, she knew something was wrong.  

 

The air felt heavy, charged with an emotional electricity that made her shudder.  In all her years as both a human and a vampire, she’d never felt anything like this before.  Was she in danger?  She didn’t think so, but whatever was happening in Sunnydale, it was bad. Agnes sighed crossly: not more demon bikers, surely?    Or hell-gods.   Or vampires bent on destruction.  Really, there didn’t seem to be a moment when there was any peace.

 

She shivered again and was about to get up to check on the children when she was aware  - and not in a good way - that there was a man in her room!  And not any man.  Richard Wilkins III was standing at the foot of her bed, smiling down at her.

 

Agnes squeaked and pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, only thankful that for once she had not gone to sleep wearing the large pink rollers that usually adorned her head during the daylight hours.

 

“Agnes, my dear little Agnes.  And how are you? Isn’t this pleasant, meeting again.”

 

“Richard!”   Agnes stared up at the familiar figure.  A ghost?  Well, he was a very substantial one if he was.  Ghosts were supposed to be all transparent and drifty.  Richard Wilkins looked extremely well fed and substantial.  Gingerly she reached out to touch his hand; it felt as cold as hers and a little scaley, but real.  

 

“I’ve missed you, Agnes.”

 

“Richard - I am in bed!”

 

The ex Mayor of Sunnydale blinked genially. “Well, I can see that, Agnes.  Living in an alternate dimension hasn’t affected my eyesight.  And I have to apologise for disturbing you at such an inconvenient time, but time is of the essence, and you know what they say, for want of a nail the war was lost. Not that this war is going to be fought with nails - well, fangs and claws in plenty, but not nails. And at least you are in bed, Agnes, and not, going about your ablutions.”

 

Agnes found herself nodding in agreement, the idea of Richard appearing whilst she was in the bath was alarming. Then she shook herself in annoyance.  He had no right to appear unannounced at any time.  “What do you want, Richard? Not that it isn’t very nice to see you,” she added swiftly in case she’d hurt his feelings.  Men, even demon ones, she’d learnt over the years, did like to be welcomed when they came to call. Spike had always looked most surprised if she’d seemed too busy to talk to him on his frequent visits to chat about his feelings for Buffy Summers.

 

The Mayor looked thoughtful as he considered her question, then sighed. “Another chance at ruling the world would be nice, but sadly that won’t happen for another few months and even then I will have to stand in line behind a whole host of other contenders.”

 

Agnes didn’t understand and she wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.  “Richard, I cannot have a conversation with you whilst in bed. Turn your back, please. I am getting up.”

 

Obediently the Mayor faced the wall as Agnes scrambled out of bed, pulled on her fluffy pink dressing-gown and tied the belt as tightly as possible.  “Right - now, as I said before, nice as it is to see you - “

 

The Mayor spun round, beaming. “Is it really nice?  Agnes, you don’t know how happy those words make me.  I have missed you so much.”

 

Agnes found herself smiling. “I’ve missed you, too. And I have to thank you for the lovely money you left me in your Will. It has been of such a help.”  She paused, suddenly alarmed. “Is that why you’ve come back? Do you need the money? I haven’t spent all of it; there is a considerable sum left.”

 

Richard Wilkins shook his head. Where he existed at this very time there was no need of money at all. Which, he considered, was a shame as he’d always been so very good at making it and he hated to see a talent going to waste.  But now wasn’t the place to worry about that.  “Agnes, I need you to listen to me very carefully.  I want you to pack up and leave Sunnydale.”

 

She stared at him in blank astonishment. “Leave? But why?”

 

The Mayor stared at the plump, English vampire whom he would once have willingly married. Ah, would his reign on earth have actually happened if she’d accepted his proposal?  Would she have made him a better or worse demon?  All he knew was that she was the kindest, nicest vampire he’d ever met. He wished with every drop of the toxic  substance that flowed through his veins that he’d been able to introduce her to his Faith.  His Firecracker had been in such need of a sensible, motherly influence, although perhaps her reaction to a vampire in that role might have been unfortunate.

 

“Soon, quite soon, within months in fact, the Hellmouth under Sunnydale is going to open and all the evil you can imagine will flood out.  It’s going to be quite a party and, under other circumstances, I’d advise you to stay and enjoy it, but...”

 

He paused: how could he put this without offending her?   “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I used to feel that you hadn’t entirely embraced the vampire and demon lifestyle here in America.”

 

Agnes felt annoyed: she’d tried very hard to fit in and even if she didn’t have a Green Card, she’d never shirked working for her unlife.  She was about to tell Richard that, in no uncertain terms, when honesty prevailed. She had to admit she wasn’t keen on the more violent aspects of her world.  Killing to eat was obviously acceptable behaviour - although she thought more vampires could persevere a little longer than they did with pig blood - but killing for fun always seemed, well, wrong.  Especially where Unturneds were concerned. What was the pleasure in slaughtering people who couldn’t fight back?  Spike’s voice from long ago echoed in her head, “It just isn’t cricket, Aggie. That’s why I like fighting with the Slayer; she gives as good as she gets.”

 

Coming back to reality with a bump, she realised Richard was still waiting for her answer. “Yes, I suppose I do worry sometimes about the indiscriminate blood-letting. It draws attention to our little community in a very unnecessary fashion.”

 

The Mayor nodded wisely. “I always knew you were a turn the cheek type of girl.”

 

Agnes smiled - because it had been several years since anyone had thought to call her a girl.

 

“That’s why you need to leave Sunnydale. When the Hellmouth opens, I want you to be a long long way away from it.  You still have the cottage my lawyers bought for you in England, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, and that was so kind of you to arrange - “

 

“England will be safe for some considerable time. I don’t think we’re scheduled to annihilate it for a couple of years.  Go there, Agnes. And, if you ever had any sort of tender feelings for me, please go fast.”

 

Agnes looked into his eyes and saw - she blinked and shuddered. She knew everyone had their faults but sometimes Richard Wilkins’ seemed worse than other demons.  But she didn’t doubt the truth of what he was saying. 

 

“I take it you’ve no one to keep you here in Sunnydale,” a hint of suspicious jealousy appearing in his voice.

 

 She was just about to tell him about the children under her care when she stopped.  Putting temptation in his way was not a kind thing to do.  She crossed her fingers under cover of her fluffy dressing-gown and lied.  “No, no one. Spike - my closest friend - I don’t know if you’ve met him - has gone to Africa to consult a shaman out there about his soul. Or lack of one.”

 

The Mayor looked interested. “Well now, that’s a juicy little bit of news to take back to the Boss. Spike could be very useful to us.   Why does he want a soul?”

 

Agnes pulled a face. “He thinks he’s in love with the Slayer.”

 

“My Faith?  Oh no, you mean the Summers woman, don’t you?”

 

Agnes had no idea who Faith was, but nodded in agreement, the expression on her face mirroring the disgust on his at the very idea.

 

“Jeepers creepers, look at the time!  I must go. So much to do. It has been a perfect joy to see you again.  I’ll be thinking of you over in England.”

 

Agnes reached out a hand, but he’d already stepped away towards the door.  “I think of you all the time,” she murmured, wishing for the thousandth time that she could have loved him as he deserved.

 

Just then he turned and casting a glance over his shoulder which she would have said - if anyone else had done it - was one of fright, he whispered, “And Agnes, if you see me again in the next few months, if I arrive and start talking to you, I want you to shut your eyes and sing very loudly because it won’t be me. Take care of yourself and remember - it won’t be me!”

 

And he was gone.

 

tbc