Chapter Text
There are many things that can go wrong at a wedding. Azira Fell has, as long as anyone can remember, been abnormally lucky in his years as a wedding planner. Things had an uncanny ability of always working out, no matter the situation. Even when a bride accidentally got her dress set ablaze[1]. Azira chalked it up to always keeping one's chin up. Everyone else believed, though never aloud, that he was overdue for a disaster.
Everyone else was correct, indeed.
***
One of the few things certain in life is death. Everyone dies eventually. It can be sudden or slow. It can take a moment in the wrong place at the wrong time. But sometimes, just sometimes, a death is both considerably deserved and follows a series of events so specific that one may even consider it inevitable. The sort of incident that insurance can only come to label as an "act of God". No human could possibly take the blame — or credit, if you'd rather — for every factor in a death of that sort.
One such an incident would occur on a Friday morning wedding at exactly 9:47 am.
The last witch of England saw it coming. Considered making a note of it. Then reconsidered it in case doing so would accidentally prevent it. Then reconsidered it once again on account of, well, the individual being so deserving of their fate that, frankly, she wouldn't mind helping it along. So she jotted a specific instruction down among her prophecies and nodded to herself that it was quite good indeed.
But Azira, born hundreds of years later and arriving that morning at 7:30 am, could not have foreseen nor known of the note. The caterer would arrive a little later, but the florists and a few assistants arrived to begin decorating the chapel. The bride and groom arrived soon after, eager to get ready and help setup the big day. Anathema Device, descendant of England's last witch and who had seen the note, held a single blue balloon[2]. Azira's face lit up when he saw them.
"Good morning future Mr. and Mrs. Pulsifer!" he said, closing his planner in his hands. "Lovely balloon. Have special plans for it? Are there more?"
"No, no, that's quite alright," Anathema replied with a smile. "Just thought I'd bring a little gift for the kids."
"Charming! We've already gotten started on the decorations. Both of you are looking wonderful already." Azira glanced back to his planner. "I have that your makeup artist and photographer will be coming shortly?"
"Yes! They should be here any moment."
"Perfect." He led them down the path to the small chapel. It was entirely made of wood, a classic design, and owned by a university's agriculture department. They rented the chapel exclusively to host weddings and other events to fund their botanical gardens. It was a great price, still somewhat private, and with great photo opportunities all around. He opened the door and gestured to the stairs down as they entered. "If you'd like to start getting ready, there's a room down the stairs to the right for you. Has plenty of mirrors and quite spacious. Can't miss it."
"I remember, thank you," she said, nodding politely before heading down with the balloon and her bag. The groom, Newton, stayed upstairs beside Azira.
"Anything I can, uh, help with?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.
"I was given stern instructions not to let you by any electronics," Azira noted.
"Ah, yeah..."
He closed his planner and carried it under his arm. "Luckily there aren't many for you to touch. I'm sure my assistants would love some help setting up the tables if you'd like."
Newt relaxed, thankful there was something he could do and hopefully keep his mind off his nerves. "Yeah, of course."
"Excellent! Right this way, then."
***
Azira couldn't help but admire their hard work as he checked off the final items on his list. Newt had already gone to do some final tidying up himself before the service. The caterers had arrived a bit early and helped with the tabletops. For the center pieces, they'd taken old computer parts[3] and turned them into small planters, with various wild flowers growing out and around them (for a more natural, "witchy" look which Anathema was fond of). Checking his pocket watch, it was 9:30 am. Time for guests to begin arriving, including one who would not be leaving as they came[4].
He greeted each guest as they arrived, checking them off his list so the couple would know who to send cards to later. It wasn't a long list, as the town the couple lived in was small and their social circle even smaller. First arrived a group of children who called themselves "the Them", accompanied by their parents. Anathema had warned their leader, Adam, would bring their dog[5] after insisting to her he would be perfectly well-behaved, thank you very much. Azira didn't mind. Dog was a delightfully good boy. Besides, the university had specified nothing in the rules against them[6].
An older gentleman called himself Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell came with a female companion. He was rather gruff and unpleasant. Azira wasn't sure he wanted to speak with him much longer than he must[7]. The other guests, primarily family or less interesting neighbors, tumbled in shortly after. He smiled to himself every time a guest marveled at the flowers and other homemade decorations they'd adorned throughout the chapel hall.
While most of the neighborhood had been invited as a courtesy, the members of the neighborhood watch had not. The reason was simple: they didn't like the bride or groom, and the feeling was mutual[8]. The neighborhood watch, being adept at sticking their nose where it shouldn't, of course learned about the wedding. It therefore went without saying they had to attend. After all, if the whole neighborhood was here, they had to as well in order to watch them[9]. There were three of them and another dog. Azira's mouth pressed into a thin line.
"I'm sorry," he said to the man. "I'm afraid you can't bring your dog into the chapel.
The man snorted and pointed over his shoulder. "That Young boy got his in there. I know he does! Always bringing that mutt with him everywhere he brings trouble!"
Azira winced. Oh dear. He replied, "Ah, yes, well, that dog...er, Dog was invited." He waved a hand down to his guest list. "Maybe I missed you on the list, Mr...?"
"Tyler," he said. "Ronald P. Tyler." He picked up his small dog. "This is Shutzi." Nodded to his left. "My wife." Then to his right. "And Nancy Ainsley."
Azira scanned the list, humoring them, even though he knew they weren't on the list. "Ah," he said at last. "I'm afraid I don't see any of your names..." Nancy shoved herself forward and placed a hand over the list, glaring him down. Azira met her gaze like a terrified deer in the headlights. "Um...?"
"Listen, hun," she began. Azira furrowed his brows. Hun? She stepped forward and Azira instinctively moved back. "We have as much a right to be here as the rest of the neighborhood, and frankly I am insulted they would exclude us. We have done nothing to them. They on the other hand have taken out the power in the neighborhood several times, get witch magazines, and loiter about suspiciously in the dark with strange occult devices."
Now having drawn a crowd at the chapel entrance, Newt turned his head and asked, "Does she mean the telescope?"
"Please don't make me call campus security," Azira said. "You're really being quite rude. This is not the time nor place to—" Nancy plucked his planner from his hands and snapped it shut before throwing it back at him. Azira flinched and stumbled further back, closer. "Goodness!"
"You can't kick us out. This here is public property," Nancy said smugly.
At 9:39 am, the first metaphorical domino fell.
Adam had received the balloon and given it to Dog to hold in his mouth.
"Good boy," Adam said. A yell came from outside.
"What was that?" Pepper asked.
"Don't know," Adam answered. "Suppose we should go look." The rest of the Them nodded in agreement.
By 9:40 am they had reached the rest of the crowd, where Nancy had reached critical rage. She was known for it. Even Mr. Tyler and his wife cowered back with their dog, suddenly considering if regretting their actions was an option. Though he'd never admit it, she was only part of the neighborhood watch so she wouldn't yell at him. Newt and Mrs. Young had come to Azira's aid, but all three shared the look of people who didn't want to be doing what they were doing.
A squirrel ran down a tree behind the Tylers at 9:41. Dog, disinterested in the human quarrel, sprinted forward. He barked, letting loose the balloon. Adam called after Dog, but no one noticed the balloon. Didn't even think about it. At least, not until it hit a powerline and exploded, raining down sparks with a loud boom. Electricity struck the tree nearest the chapel which towered over the building. A branch snapped, landing on the roof. It slid, but didn't fall off the edge. Yet.
Everyone screamed at 9:42 am, even Nancy. Azira loudest of all. Newt cried, "Wasn't me!" Nancy redirected her anger to Adam and his dog, already convinced it was his fault. Dog resumed chasing the squirrel to another tree.
Anathema reached outside at 9:43, frantic to know what was going on. Nancy remembered who she wanted to yell at again. Anathema, unlike the earlier trio, was much better at yelling back about her minding her own business. Newt stood in awe of his wife-to-be's beauty and ferocity. The photographer snapped a few photos.
The squirrel darted past Nancy at 9:44 and Dog pushed after through her legs. She stumbled closer to the chapel. Ms. Ainsley erupted into another bout of finger pointing and shrieking, stalking towards the crowd. Everyone retreated appropriately inside. The squirrel sprung up the side of the chapel. Dog barked one final warning and jumped at the wooden pillar several times. Thump, thump, thump. The branch inched further over the edge.
Azira had truly had enough of this by 9:45.
Emotions getting the better of him, he yelled, "You're being quite a dastardly woman, ruining these good people's special day! Not very neighborly at all of the neighborhood watch. I say!" With a stomp of his foot, the branch atop the roof teetered on the edge, peering over the ledge where the cross stood upright above the entrance. Ms. Ainsley advanced, not knowing she placed herself at the perfect angle below.
A lot happened at 9:46. Nancy called Azira an insulting choice of words that he didn't even hear as everyone had begun yelling at once. The noise inside reverberated in the tall entrance way, shaking the very walls. The chapel wasn't sure how to feel about any of this, honestly. It'd been such a nice day so far.
Nancy cut through their shouts with a threatening, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer about this! This won't be the last you hear from me, you damn witch!"
But it would, for the trembling chapel loosed the branch from the roof, sending it tumbling straight into the chapel's proud imposing cross.
And at precisely 9:47 am, the cross fell and crushed Nancy Ainsley as if God Herself was telling her to "shut it". It fell without subtlety, the booming thud leaving a hush from everyone else as they stared on in shock. The quiet was interrupted when Adam broke into a grin and exclaimed, "Wicked!"
Azira stared on in horror. "Oh," he said. "Oh dear."
Dog, being a dog, wagged his tail.
***
It was eventually decided for the wedding to continue on. Rescheduling would be a nightmare, not to mention expensive, and hardly fair to the couple. So, the wedding went on as planned. Azira assured them he'd handle everything here. The university was horrified and offered a discount off the couple's bill[10]. He stood awkwardly several feet from the very dead body, praying for the authorities to hurry it on up but knowing it'd have to be at least another forty minutes given the rural location.
His head instinctively turned as a couple rushed out of the rose garden, the man holding on his wife desperately. She held a hand over her very pregnant belly and her face twisted in pain. The man waved his arm to Azira briefly as he cried, "Excuse me! Help!" They were too preoccupied with their own emergency to notice the corpse several feet away. Azira scrambled over, purposely placing himself to block the scene from their view.
"Oh dear," he said, eyes wide. This was turning into quite the day. "Is she...?"
"Going into labor," he breathed. "Yeah." His wife let out a pained cry.
"Oh good lord." A death and now this? Azira was never going to forget this day.
"Your phone have service? Know when the next bus is coming?" the husband asked. "I can't get a single bar out here."
"Oh. Oh!" Azira took a deep breath at the same time the man's wife did, trying not to panic. "The next bus isn't until noon, I'm afraid." The man cursed. The authorities were on their way, but for a dead person, not with preparations for a woman in labor. Could he really suggest she hold out for near an hour in pain? She let out another cry. There wasn't time! And he couldn't leave the body! Azira shuffled into his coat's pocket and pulled out his keys. He held them out to the man. "Take my car!"
The man stared at him. "Are you—"
"You can drive, can't you?"
"Yes, but—"
"You can't wait for an ambulance, it'll be ages out here!" Azira protested. "Just — come on — look at her! You gotta go!" He shoved the keys into the man's hand and shuffled them both up the sidewalk. The man hurried with his wife, looking lost. Azira pulled out his planner, uncapped a pen, and hastily wrote his name and number on a corner and tore it off. He stopped and gave it to the husband. "Call me back for the car later." He pointed to a white sedan parked neatly in the shade. "That one's mine. Hurry along, but be safe dears, alright?"
"I — wait." The man took Azira's pen and wrote down his own information. "Just in case, yeah?"
Azira smiled. "Right, of course. Now go!"
"Thank you," the wife croaked, tears in her eye and her face red and puffy. "You're an angel."
Azira's cheeks tinged with red. "Oh, no, nonsense. What anyone would do, really."
"Not at all, mate. You're a godsend," the husband said. As they hurried over to the car he added, calling back, "We won't forget this!" Azira smiled and waved them on, watching the husband help his wife into the car. He took a deep breath and turned back to the chapel, where the fallen cross and dead body continued laying.
Well. Now he had no way home.
He pulled out his phone, which had a signal, but barely. There was only one person to call in a situation like this, though he hated to admit it. He scrolled through his contacts and hit "call". Azira practiced several lines while it ringed.
"Azira, what the hell? Aren't you in the middle of a wedding? I have a meeting in twenty minutes I still need to prepare for. You can't just-"
"Yes, I know, Gabriel. But, well, you know I wouldn't call you unless it was an emergency. And this...this is quite an emergency."
***
Anthony J. Crowley splashed his face with water and ran his hands down his face. He wiped his face dry with a paper towel and stopped halfway, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Fuck. His eyes were so red. He hated crying. Fuck crying. Stupid thing, eyes. He grabbed his sunglasses by the sink and threw them back on with one hand, drying his chin off with the other. He tossed the paper towel in the trash. He also hated children funerals. Kids weren't supposed to die. Fucked up and completely cruel of God, if She existed. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and headed back out into the funeral home hall.
One more service to check in on, one...Nancy Ainsley, if he remembered right. Some older lady who died in an accident no one wanted to talk about. He smirked to himself. Must have been embarrassing. They got a lot of those. A loud choking sob drew his attention to a man on a bench. The blond was dressed like a librarian from a hundred years ago and he looked...miserable. Crowley grimaced and pulled a clean tissue from his pocket and held it out to the man.
"Here," he said. The man sniffed and looked up, meeting Crowley's eyes. Crowley hated when people cried, especially ugly crying. All crying was ugly tho — Oh. This man was in no way ugly. He swallowed. The man's eyes were the clearest blue Crowley had ever seen, and his expression...well. He looked like an angel mourning a tragedy but still looking absolutely beautiful doing it. Somehow his tears made his eyes sparkle in the light.
"Thank you," the man sniffed, taking the tissue with a polite smile. Crowley nodded his head sharply and shifted his weight on his feet. The man dabbed his eyes and took a deep breath before blowing his nose. Crowley looked away uncomfortably, noting he was by the door to the Ainsley service. Was he a relative? Couldn't be a husband. He hadn't been with the rest of the family in planning. A lover, maybe? Friend? He turned back to the man, who seemed like he was trying to catch his breath. Crowley couldn't help himself from frowning sympathetically. Poor guy.
"Sorry for your loss," he said. "May I ask how you knew Ms. Ainsley...?"
The man nodded and smiled softly, eyes still moist. "Oh, well, I didn't really know her," he said. "But I was there when she died. Felt like I had to pay my respects. Awfully tragic." Crowley raised an eyebrow. There when she died? He couldn't help but get a little excited. Maybe he could win this month's pool[11].
"Didn't quite get the details on that," Crowley said. "It was an accident...?"
The man sniffled again. "The cross fell off the chapel and..." He took a deep breath. "Boom! Right on her!" His eyes were spilling tears again. "Oooh, it was awful. She was kind of awful. But still...didn't deserve...that..." He grimaced. "Splat." He seemed to get lost in the memory, but then shook his head free of it and looked at Crowley with wide eyes. "But you know...you know what the worst part was? It was at my wedding! Well, er, not my wedding, exactly. A wedding. I'm a wedding planner. I was supposed to make sure everything goes perfectly and lovely and wonderfully, and then...oooh. This cranky old lady has to come marching in and die right in front of everyone. And the children!"
Crowley blinked. Processing.
"She got...crushed by a cross? At a wedding?" he repeated.
The man nodded solemnly. "Right in the middle of cursing out the bride and groom, too."
Crowley couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at his lips. "Sounds like divine intervention if you ask me." The man frowned and tsked before muttering something under his breath. Was that supposed to be a rebuke? Crowley's smile widened. "I mean, you have to admit...Cursing the spouses-to-be? Right in front of God and children? Kind of asking for it."
The man huffed and shuffled in his seat, looking like he was trying desperately to not agree. "You can't just...say things like that," he said instead. His eyes darted to the open door and back before he whispered, "Somebody could hear you!" He looked at Crowley as if seeing him for the first time. "You work here?"
"Oh, sorry. Forgot to introduce myself," he said quickly, shooting his hand forwards. "Anthony J. Crowley, funeral director." The man eyed him curiously with a furrowed brow, as if debating if he wanted to reply.
"Azira Fell," the man said finally, taking his hand. "Are you always making light of people's deaths? That seems a bit unprofessional." Crowley missed the warmth of his hand as soon as Azira pulled his back.
"Not aloud, no, not usually," he admitted. "But you get used to all of..." He gestured vaguely around the gloomy atmosphere. "...this after a while. Depressing if you don't, really. Gotta keep your mood up somehow."
"Ah." He nodded to himself. "That...makes sense I suppose."
"Got you to stop crying, too," he said. At that, Azira gave him a smile. It was small and sweet, and even his eyes appeared quietly grateful. Crowley took a seat next to him on the bench, giving himself a reason to not get captivated by Azira's many expressions. He didn't get out much, but that still didn't mean he should go finding dates with people at their funerals. "Funerals are a lot like weddings, if you think about it."
"How's that?" Azira's looked very perplexed. "Weddings are lots of fun. The dancing, music, cake, charming food, and eternal vows...They're like a dream. Funerals are...well. Dreadful. More like the dream is over. No offense."
Crowley grinned. "None taken. Funerals don't have to be depressing. They're for the living, anyway. You know, plenty of people make requests like 'Oh, don't cry when I'm gone. Remember all the good things and play my favorite songs and have a good time.' How many people actually follow through with that though? Not many. Because they're sad, and they think funerals should be sad, and wouldn't it be just be rude if we were playing rock next door to another grieving family?" He snorted. "Not me. Dance away. Go nuts. Dump me in a ditch and be done with it. I'm dead, what do I care? It's all theatrics for the living to make them feel better.
"And that," he continued, pointing a finger up. "And that is exactly the same for weddings! Do we need to spend tens of thousands of dollars when all you really need is to sign a piece of paper? No!"
"But it's—" Azira caught himself, realizing he'd interrupted, but then defeatedly finished his thought. "But it's nice."
"Nice! Yes, exactly my point! The dress, overpriced everything, expensive getaways, the vows...it's just the same as doing eulogies, flowers, buying expensive caskets just to bury it and all that. It's just things we do because we think they're nice and they make us feel better. The family feels just as better seeing an exchange of vows as they do hearing a nice eulogy. So it's the same thing, really."
Azira hummed to himself. "I never thought of it like that," he admitted.
"Most people don't." Crowley shrugged. They were quiet a moment before Crowley's curiosity got the best of him. "What happened to the wedding after that anyway?"
"Oh, we went on with it. Can't just reschedule that sort of thing."
"Around the body?"
"Oh, goodness no! What happened was outside. I stayed to wait for the proper authorities while everyone else went on without me." Crowley caught the look of disappointment on his face.
"So you didn't get to see it then? Everything you planned come to be?"
"Oh, I don't know. If it wasn't, I don't think I can bear to know. Too scared to watch the video, honestly." Azira smiled sadly. "The couple did send me a very kind thank you, though."
"I'm sorry."
"Nonsense." He raised both eyebrows. "It's Ms. Ainsley's family we should be sorry for."
"Naw, the family seemed relieved to be honest."
"Oh!" Azira looked shocked. "That's...oh."
Crowley checked his watch. "I should probably be helping them wrap up." He pulled the whole travel-sized package of tissues from his pocket and held them out to Azira. "Need any more?"
He smiled. "No, thank you, I think I'm alright now. You're very kind."
"Ugh, don't say that," Crowley replied with a groan, getting up from his seat. "I barely have my pride around this place as it is."
Azira chuckled. "I doubt that."
"You haven't met my coworkers. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between them and the bodies." Azira just smiled. Crowley's brows raised above his sunglasses. "I'm serious."
"Well, careful they don't bite you for your brains."
Crowley's mouth fell open and he stared. "Was that...a zombie joke?" The man didn't look the type to even know what a zombie was[12]. Azira said nothing, but kept smiling. Crowley grinned. "You're right. They might be zombies. I better be careful." Azira laughed and Crowley found himself laughing with him. A man passing in the hall shot them a dirty look and they both sobered immediately — at least until he left through the door. Then they were chuckling into their hands like children.
"You see — heehee — what I mean?" Crowley said between laughs. "No one likes a laugh at a funeral."
"I think you made your point quite well," Azira said. Crowley swore he could see stars in his eyes. "Maybe they should. I feel much better. Thank you."
"Anytime." Crowley couldn't stop gazing at his smile. Azira for his part was no better. Crowley remembered the time and broke his eyes away. "Ah, I should go."
"Ah. Right..." Azira's face fell a little.
Crowley found himself unable to move. "We're locking up after this."
"Oh. I guess I should be leaving myself, then."
The silence lingered between them between them. Before Crowley could stop himself, he blurted, "Do you want to go for drinks?"
Azira's head snapped up, surprised. "Sorry?"
"Er, it's just...you seem you could use some company still. I had a long day myself."
The bright glowing smile returned to Azira's face. Crowley's chest warmed.
"That'd be lovely."
[1] He'd warned them candles were a bad idea. Back ↑
[2] The balloon did not know it would be a key player of the inevitable incident and was, for now, much looking forward to being at a wedding. Back ↑
[3] From a collection of Things In Which Newt Had Inadvertently Destroyed. Back ↑
[4] Both dramatically and very much Not Alive. Back ↑
[5] The dog, known as Dog, was excited for the activities and would not be disappointed. Back ↑
[6] They did, however, have rules specifying about Infernally Loud Music, Outrageous Dancing, Horridly Awful Alcohol Choices, and camels. Back ↑
[7] The man apparently thought asking people, "How many nipples do you have?" was an appropriate introduction. Azira was relieved when the man's lady friend interrupted and pulled him away as Azira couldn't decide if it was ruder to answer or refuse to. Back ↑
[8] Mostly. Newt was too confused on the whole affair to actively dislike any of them. Back ↑
[9] The definition of what "neighborhood watch" did often changed to suit whatever activity they felt they ought to stick their nose in. Back ↑
[10] It was more precautionary in hopes of preventing a lawsuit, in case the cross' collapse had somehow been their fault. It most assuredly wasn't, but Azira accepted their offer nonetheless on their behalf. Back ↑
[11] Who got the "funniest death of the month" was a popular competition among the funeral home employees. Anyone "found naked and/or masturbating" almost always won. Back ↑
[12] Crowley thought Azira was the type to only read books and never see a movie. This was accurate. However, Azira would read anything, and zombies had their years of trending. Azira thought Crowley looked the sort who would enjoy that kind of thing. Back ↑