luck

Giles and Anya sat side by side in a fifties style diner. The small jukebox on the wall of their booth played "Can't Help Falling In Love" as they looked through a glossy brochure of wedding chapels. "How about that one?" he asked as he gestured to an ad. "The Little White Chapel?" He looked very handsome in a gray suit and a blue tie.

"I don't like the name," she said. "I want something about luck or money." She wore a white slip dress, and tall white heels. A small hat decorated with a tuft of white net adorned her head, and a corsage of blue carnations was on her wrist.

"Triple Seven Chapel?" he asked.

She smiled and kissed him. "Perfect." He caressed her cheek, and pulled her close for a deeper embrace.

"One cup of tea, one vanilla milkshake," said a bored voice. They broke apart as the waitress set down their drinks.

"So do you have everything that you wanted?" he asked her. He unwrapped his teabag and regarded it with a look of dismay.

"Well," she said with a smile. "I'm over a thousand years old, and you're considered old. What we have is new, and so are our clothes. I have blue flowers, and you have a blue tie. We borrowed a pen from the clerk at the courthouse, and I have Tara's earrings on. " Shetook a sip of her shake. "Yes, we're now properly equipped for the ritual and years of wedded bliss." She looked down at Giles' murky cup of tea. "Hello, miss?" She called to the waitress. "Do you have any tea that isn't just plain dirt stuffed in a teabag?" Giles laughed as he put his hand over her mouth.

Aurelius rested on the couch in his apartment with Dawn in his arms. "You need to get back to the people who love you," he said softly.

"But I just want to stay with you," she said.

He leaned forward and kissed her, a long, sweet gentle kiss. "One of the things that you have yet to learn, my beloved, is that you can't always get what you want."

"I'll always get what I want in the end," she said confidently. "I claimed you and that can never be undone. There is no way to turn back the clock and undo it."

"Perhaps not," he said thoughtfully, "But perhaps so." He pointed at her eyes with his fingertips. "Sleep." She shut her eyes and collapsed onto his shoulder.

Spike sat on the couch in the honeymoon suite and gnawed furiously on a Twizzler. Buffy sat down next to him. "What is bothering you?" she asked.

"I'm trying to be very mature and adult about this, and see it from your point of view," Spike said, "but I don't understand why you invited Angel to the wedding."

She gave him a weird look and swallowed her juice. "Why would I want Angel here today?"

"But he is here, sweets. He came up to the room just a few minutes ago, with the prom queen in tow." He was suddenly feeling a lot better.

"He wouldn't just show up here uninvited, even if he found out about the wedding," said Buffy, puzzled. "We've learned it's best to stay out of each other's lives."

"Then why would he be here with Cordelia?" asked Spike.

Buffy put down her glass. "Let's go find out."

Tara took Lorelei into her arms. The siren sobbed, overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt at her role in Drusilla's death. "It's all right," the witch crooned, "It's not your fault." Willow and Xander looked on, holding each other tightly.

Angel turned to Cordelia. "We're done here," he said briskly.

"What's the hurry, Mr. Sensitive?" she asked sarcastically.

Marcus Aurelius stood before a wall of scrolls in his library. "Find," he commanded, and a scroll flew into his hand. He stalked into a small round chamber and stood before a black marble table. The table was covered with a large black cauldron and an assortment of herbs. Small dishes held other, more esoteric ingredients. His face was angry and set. "Prepare," he said tersely: the herbs tore themselves into small pieces, ground themselves into dust and flew into the cauldron. "Boil." The cauldron's surface roared with rolling water. He unfurled the scroll and read, "Goddess Fortuna, I invoke thee."

A green mist filled the room. "Sweet Fortuna, on this day, may all that caused ill to the bride or groom be swept away, may all that has caused harm, be swept from the slate by the power of your charms. Let all who felt sorrow or carried doubt, have only peace and sweet memories inside and out." A thick green fog crept through the room continuing down the corridors of the hotel, until it enveloped every man, woman and child and sent them into a deep slumber.