9

Did Jesus have a helicopter?


Note: Thanks to Karbear and Mariana for betaing this chapter!


The next day, Spike had more duties to attend to. It was Maundy Thursday. He got up at four o'clock in the morning because he was to spend the whole day at the city of Canterbury. Spike complained at first about getting up in the dead of the night and going all the way to Kent by train when he could have been there with a helicopter in twenty minutes, but as always, he complied.

"A helicopter is not a means of travel fit for the King," Sir Rupert had told him. "The tradition of the Sovereign presenting Maundy money to the poor dates from the 13th century, and never has a monarch come to the Cathedral in a helicopter."

"Big deal," Spike said dryly, "'Cos they didn't have one!"

"You are traveling by train," Sir Rupert concluded, "A helicopter is inappropriate." End of discussion.

The visit was going to be a busy one, so he had to travel overnight on the Royal Train to ensure an early start. He wished Buffy could have joined him, but Sir Rupert made sure she was at the Palace when Spike got on the train, and despite the early hour they were followed by photographers, journalists and TV cameras. It was still dark when they left, so Spike was not even able to admire the beautiful landscape of the region referred to as the Garden of England. Not that he would have had time for it, anyway. Sir Rupert had taken the liberty to have Spike's red mail boxes brought with them on the train so that His Majesty could "make better use of his time". Spike arched an eyebrow and asked him if he was hiding Sir Riley and the pony under his seat so he could have a quick polo lesson between Maidstone and Ashford International.

Sir Rupert cast him an icy look and withdrew to a different compartment.

The ride was rough in spite of the comfortable Royal Train and made Spike realize the British government probably did not have the cash to replace the railroad tracks in this part of the country. Yet he enjoyed being out of Buckingham Palace for another day.

They were surrounded by the police when the train arrived at Canterbury West Station. They had chosen the smaller, less frequented station to avoid masses of commuters. Besides, it was a lot closer to the Cathedral than the East Station and easier to provide with surveillance and security. However, it did not prevent people from coming to the station to greet the new King, especially teenage girls trying to catch his eye, waving small paper flags and painting their faces or spraying their hair in the British national colours. And the elderly, those remembering the former Queen's father, insisted King William was just as handsome as his grandfather King George in his youth, God bless his soul.

Spike smiled and shook hands, winked at little children on their mothers' arms in the front row, looking good for the press. He only had a short moment to thank the crowd for the warm welcome before he was pushed into another limo and taken through the old town to the Cathedral. He loved the façades of the houses, the small shops selling souvenirs and Victorian nightgowns, the hotels advertising cream tea, the paved streets… The city walls, dating back to Roman times, the medieval buildings showing up time and time again, they were all indicating that this was a city with a history, proud and famous, yet without the rush and pulsating masses of London. He caught himself thinking he might fall in love with this place. That is, if he ever had enough time to do so. He would have loved to visit the Cathedral and the Canterbury Tales like a normal tourist, but no, he had his Royal duties...

The limo drove up to the Cathedral premises, and Spike prepared to smile once again for the cameras before he disappeared into the Cathedral, where the public had no access that day. He knew probably a dozen journalists were lurking on Westgate with high tech cameras to catch him as he walked into the Cathedral. As he got off the car, he caught a glimpse of the stage prepared for the presentation of Maundy money. Hundreds of people had gathered around the Cathedral, for the sole purpose of seeing him. Spike took a deep breath when all those people and cameras disappeared from his view. The Cathedral was crowded with members of the local nobility and some politicians; there wasn't a single seat that was unoccupied. Spike had never seen a church so crowded, not even when he had gone to church with his mother - well, his foster mother - on Christmas Eve. He was to attend the mass, as his ancestors had done from the beginning of their reign to demonstrate that the monarch was also Head of the Church of England. Spike had never been particularly religious. Now he was greeted by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He knew the next time they would meet would be at Westminster Abbey in London, for his own coronation. The young king tried not to think about it and concentrated on admiring the architecture and decorations around him. The tomb of the Black Prince caught his eye. The Black Prince's shield, weapon and coat of arms that hung high above the tomb, under the ceiling, were just copies of the original items, he was told; the real items were being protected in a glass casket nearby. They looked heavy. Spike thought he would prefer a humble crypt to such a public place.



*

Buffy was glued to the television. She should have been working, but, well, her father wasn't here to notice her absence, she might as well watch Spike on TV. She had been watching for an hour, yet all she had got so far was that annoying reporter woman, Claudia Vayne, and Lord Quentin Travers, expert on British royalty and personal friend of the Duke of Edinburgh for many years, so close a friend he didn't have a clue about the old Queen's youngest son. Buffy yawned as Lord Travers went on and on about the Maundy Thursday tradition.

"The word Maundy is derived from Latin mandatum, Christ's command at the Last Supper, to love one another," Lord Travers said, "Therefore, on the Thursday before Easter, the Sovereign, Head of the Church of England, presents gifts to male and female pensioners from the local community, in recognition of their service to their community and their church. The number of pensioners depends on the Sovereign's age. This highly symbolic ceremony takes place each year at one of the cathedrals or abbeys all over the country. The gifts vary, traditionally it used to be food and clothing, later it was changed to money."

"It has been rumored that King William originally planned to come to Canterbury in a helicopter?"

Lord Travers gave her a condescending smile. "As you said, this is merely a rumor. Jesus did not have a helicopter, did he?"

Buffy snorted. "Who needs a helicopter if you can walk on water?"

Claudia Vayne giggled. "Certainly not, Lord Travers. Speaking of, tradition requires that the Sovereign wash the recipients' feet - any chance we might get to see this today?"

Lord Travers looked annoyed at the question. "This varied from Sovereign to Sovereign; the last Monarch to do so was James II in 1685. I doubt someone as young as King William..."

Buffy imagined for a moment the old Queen washing the feet of pensioners in front of a cathedral. No, that wouldn't work! The reporter did not suffer Lord Travers finishing his explanations, but seized the microphone from him. "As we hear, King William is about to leave the Cathedral and will now present Maundy money to local pensioners, revealing one of his best-guarded secrets, that is his age..."



*

The organ was playing the last tune of the mass. Spike had plans. He had to repair the damage done to his reputation, and he had chosen an interesting way to surprise them all. He rose and prepared to move on to the next item on the agenda.

With his mind already on the press again, he was walking down toward the exit, two bodyguards in the front, and two behind him, past the tomb of the Black Prince. He was oblivious to a tiny red point of light dancing on the ceiling. Suddenly, he heard a creaking, metallic sound above him, a shadow moved. Then it all happened very fast.

"Your Majesty!" someone shouted, and the Duchess of Kent screamed.

Sir Rupert darted forward and pushed Spike aside vehemently, the momentum sending them both to the floor. A fraction of a second later, the Black Prince's heavy shield shattered to the ground with a deafening noise, just where Spike had stood only a moment earlier. People shouted, shrieked, whispered in horror and disbelief.

Spike stared at the shield. It would have crushed him. "Bloody hell," he murmured.

Sir Rupert rose and straightened the fabric of his suit. "May I remind Your Majesty we're in a church," he said matter-of-factly, going back to business as if nothing had happened. He raised his voice and addressed the panicking crowd around them. "No reason to worry, ladies and gentlemen, His Majesty is well and unharmed; please move on quietly toward the nearest exit."

The bodyguards helped Spike, who was totally in a shock, to his feet.

Sir Rupert cast them a look that said: You're fired.

"I'm so sorry," one of the bodyguards said, "I assure you, we checked every safety regulation in the Cathedral, I don't know how..."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it now that you are out of work," Sir Rupert told him coldly.

Spike slowly recovered from the first shock. "It's alright, Rupert," he said, "I'm ok, you don't have to..."

Sir Rupert ignored him and went on with his rant. "This is an old building, and all hazards including loose stones or other parts falling down have to be removed BEFORE the British sovereign even gets close to the cathedral. This is an unpardonable faux pas. That horrible and utterly avoidable accident could have killed His Majesty!"

"Would you stop talking as if I wasn't here?" Spike burst out.

Sir Rupert glared at him. "Of course, Your Majesty." He calmed down, now that the tension fell. "Shall we proceed or postpone the next item on Your Majesty's schedule?"

Spike took a deep breath. "Let's get it over with."

Sir Rupert nodded obediently.

Spike patted his shoulder. "Thanks. For... you know." He pointed at the damaged shield on the floor.

The knight held his gaze. "No need to thank me. I didn't do this for you." He walked on, as protocol required, without turning his back to the king,

*

"... this is Claudia Vayne, with an incredible top story. As a source within the Cathedral reports, England has just evaded a tragedy beyond imagination. While King William was walking past the Black Prince's tomb, the shield attached to the ceiling above loosened and crashed down on the very spot where the king was standing. However, the background of this hideous accident remains to be confirmed by Buckingham Palace. Here are exclusive pictures from within the Cathedral, taken by our undercover reporter with a hidden camera."

Buffy stared at the screen as she saw, in low resolution, yet clear enough, as her father pushed Spike out of harm's way. Her stomach churned as she realized how close she had come to losing both of them.

"Stay tuned for our exclusive interview with an expert on English church architecture and Britain's leading occultist, specialist on cursed items in the possession of British royalty, right after this broadcast. And now back to the events here. King William is just entering the stage to present Maundy money to..."

Buffy watched Spike closely. He was pale, the shock still written all over his face, yet quite professional, smiling, nodding at the cameras. When he was done handing out the money, he stepped towards the microphone.

*

Sir Rupert covered the microphone with his hand. "It's all over national television," he whispered, "Everyone knows about the incident in the Cathedral."

Spike nodded. "Don't worry, I'll handle it," he said and cleared his voice, taking the microphone. "As you've already heard, there was a problem with the decorations in the Cathedral, which were in similar shape as the railroad tracks," he said leisurely. The audience replied with nervous laughter. Spike cast his eyes down modestly, then looked up, facing the crowd. His words were calm and clear. "This day is to remind us of something very important, to take care of one another. We tend to forget about this in our daily routine. Today I would like to remind you all how important it is not to pass by if you see someone in need. And I would like to take the opportunity to thank my staff, who has helped me adjusting to my new office, especially Sir Rupert Giles, who did not look away when the hour called. For any questions, please address them at the man of the hour, Sir Rupert."

Sir Rupert glared at Spike. He hated having the attention of the media. Spike grinned, knowing Buffy's father would spend the next few days as a national hero.

"The press has recently written a lot of things about me," Spike continued, "Some of it was true, some wasn't. They're writing that I'm not a conventional monarch, and that I disregard the traditions of my ancestors. I don't know if I can prove them wrong." His eyes flashed unpredictably. "But I'll try."

Spike walked down to the other end of the stage and took off his jacket. He smiled inwardly when some of the teenage girls in the audience started screaming. The majority of those present were confused. Only a small circle of selected people knew about what he was going to do next.

He drew aside a piece of cloth and revealed a small basin filled with water and several towels. He carried the basin to the front. Chairs were brought and set up in a row in front of the cameras Accompanied by astonished cries from those familiar with Maundy Thursday traditions, he knelt before the first chair and waited for a group of people to enter the stage.

Pensioners from all over the country were led toward the chairs and sat down.

The crowd cheered - and Buffy in front of her television set almost fell off the couch - when Spike began to wash their feet.

*

"Our monarch seems more aware of tradition than we thought." Claudia Vayne went on with a hint of pride in her voice, "But look at the pensioners, there are so many... Official statements from Buckingham Palace announce that King William decided to use his mother's age instead of his own to determine the number of pensioners, as homage to the former Queen. How sweet is that? Now, ladies, isn't that a young man you'd love to take home to your mothers?"

Buffy chuckled. "Yeah, and as a nice side effect he avoided telling everyone how old exactly he is..."

*

Spike turned to the next pensioner, an old woman whose face was hidden by a dark cloak. He knelt down and put her foot into the basin... and stared. Black nail polish? And the foot was all smooth, not an old woman's... He looked up. The woman pushed the hood aside a little to let him see her face, careful that none of the journalists could see her.

Spike's eyes opened wide. He tried to maintain a neutral expression for the cameras. "Dru," he gasped, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Spike," Drusilla whispered, "It was the only way to get near you; Sir Rupert wouldn't let me call you at your office. I need to talk to you. It's important." She lowered her voice even more. "You'd better keep washing my feet while we're talking, don't draw attention to us."

Uncomfortably, Spike moved her left foot into the water. Drusilla relaxed and moaned silently. "Just like old times..."

Spike looked around anxiously, but no one seemed to notice what was going on. "What could be so important for you to come here and ruin my day?"

If Drusilla was offended, she did not show it. "I saw you at the club, with that other girl," she told him.

"Buffy," Spike said softly. "Look, Dru, if you came here to talk about that..."

"It was impolite of you not to introduce me," Drusilla chided, "We could have had a nice chat..."

"Dru, please," Spike said, "Listen. I'll call you, we'll talk. I promise, just, not here, not now."

She shook her head. "No, Spike. We both know you have no intention to call me."

Spike glared at her. "What the bloody hell do you want, Dru?"

Dru's eyes sparkled dangerously, with just a hint of madness, when she replied: "You're a bad rude man. You can't curse like that... in front of the baby."

*

Buffy had been waiting for Spike and her father to return to Buckingham Palace all evening, but it was already past midnight when she heard Spike's steps on the stairs leading to his quarters.

She rushed from her room, where she had been waiting. "Spike!"

He turned around, startled. "Buffy... you scared me."

They embraced, but Buffy could tell from a look at his eyes how upset he was. "I saw it all on TV," Buffy told him and kissed him, "They say there was an accident at the Cathedral that almost got you killed! Are you okay?"

He nodded absently.

Buffy frowned. "You're still in a shock," she noticed, "Have you seen a doctor already?"

"I'm fine," he replied, "Just tired. It's been a long day. I just want to get a quick shower, and then go to bed."

Buffy smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

He barely looked at her. "Alone."

Buffy's smile faded. "Oh." She backed away. "I understand that... really..." She looked at him suspiciously. "Spike, are you sure there's nothing wrong with you?"

He gave her a forced smile. "Don't worry, Buffy. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hesitantly, Buffy took a few steps toward her door. "Love you."

Without a word, Spike hit the stairs.

Buffy considered retiring to her room, but her guts told her something was wrong. She wondered if her father had said something to upset Spike like that. Buffy followed him at a distance.

When she arrived at the top of the stairs, she saw a door close behind him. She frowned. It was not the door to his bedroom, but his office. Why was he working that late? And why hadn't he told her?

*

Spike hid his face in his hands. Sir Rupert stood by the window and glowered at him, but did not say a word.

Drusilla sat in the leather armchair opposite of him.

Spike finally looked up to meet her eyes. "Are you positive?"

Dru shrugged and smiled. "I told you I went to see a doctor."

"No, I mean... are you positive it's..."

"If I'm sure it's yours?" She giggled. "Please. We were in a relationship."

"And I caught you with someone else twice," Spike reminded her, "Liam and I were like brothers, that really pissed me off! And have you forgotten about the plastical surgeon who was at least twenty years older than you and claimed he was immortal?!"

Drusilla shrugged. "We all make mistakes. Look at me, Spike. Would I lie to you?"

Spike cast his eyes down. He had been madly in love with Drusilla. When it came to her, he had always been partial and unable to think rationally.

That was what he had Sir Rupert for now. He looked at her coldly, dispassionately. "Rest assured, Miss..."

"Dru, please," Dru beamed.

"Miss Drusilla, rest assured His Majesty will not let you go through all of this on your own. If you agree to handle the whole affair discreetly, I will personally make all the necessary arrangements to have you taken to a specialist at His Majesty's expense. There is a very competent institution specialized in this kind of operation..."

Drusilla blinked. "Operation."

Spike jumped from his chair and glared at Sir Rupert. "Don't even suggest it! Not gonna happen!"

Sir Rupert's eyes narrowed. "Your Majesty, may I remind you that this woman is an Irish Catholic? Your first-born child is the rightful heir to the throne of England, and you swore on your accession that you would maintain Protestant succession! If you break your oath..."

"It's the end of my reign, yeah, I know," Spike retorted, louder than he had intended.

"It's the end of British monarchy!" Sir Rupert yelled. "The scandal is all the excuse your enemies need to dispose of you, and monarchy as an Institution. I will not allow you to ruin everything your family has worked for for centuries just because of some wh..."

"If you finish that sentence, " Spike cut him off, "I swear I..."

"You should quit swearing," Sir Rupert said more calmly. "It will only get you in trouble."

"We are not discussing this," Spike ended the argument and walked around the desk, standing behind Dru. "I want you to know I'm here for you, and for the baby. We'll find a way."

Dru smiled at Sir Rupert triumphantly.

Spike gently led her towards the door. "You should get some rest. One of my chauffeurs will take you home."

She kissed his cheek. "Good night, sweet prince."

He smiled weakly and closed the door behind her.

"You're history," Sir Rupert snarled.

Spike leaned against the door, suddenly looking exhausted. "Spare me your lectures," he pleaded, "Help me. I may not be the perfect king, but... oh God, I hate to admit it... I've come to like this job. I may not have political power, but I can make a difference. I've seen the hope and support I can give as a king. For the first time in my life, I'm important, and I can help the helpless."

"I cannot help you if you do not let me," Sir Rupert said matter-of-factly.

"Is there no way out of this situation?"

"I told you."

"Abortion is not an option."

Sir Rupert sighed. "I thought you would say so. A hundred years ago, this woman's child would not have been a problem at all because you are not married to the mother. Nowadays, however, illegitimate children do have the same rights as those born within a marriage."

Spike kept pacing the room restlessly. "Newsflash, we're well out of the Dark Ages. Any twenty-first century solution?"

Sir Rupert thought about it for a long moment. "Only one," he finally said. "There is only one way I can think of for you to acknowledge the child and remain true to your oath."

"I'll take it," Spike said quickly.

"It will require a great sacrifice." Sir Rupert took a deep breath. "This child is your heir. Unless you are able to present a legitimate one."

Spike sighed. "Marry and have a kid within seven months? That's your brilliant plan? I am history."

Sir Rupert arched an eyebrow. "Not necessarily. Have you met Lord Burkle and his daughter, Lady Winifred? They were at the reception for Ambassador Woods."

Spike thought about it for a moment. "Long brown hair, cute face, blushed when I talked to her?"

"That is her," Sir Rupert confirmed.

"Yes, I remember. Why?"

"Well, I happen to know her father quite well, and he confided to me that his little girl, having lived in the seclusion of a boarding school run by nuns for five years, got herself in some trouble. She started a very unfortunate affair with a man who is clearly beneath her. Well, and she learned the hard way that our deeds have consequences. Just like you."

"She's pregnant. So why are you telling me this?"

Sir Rupert took a seat and steepled his fingers. "Of course Lord Burkle is devastated. He meant to marry her to the Duke of Kent's son, but that is beyond discussion now. The only advantage is that apart from myself, and now Your Majesty, no one knows. This gives you the unique opportunity to run to the aid of a damsel in distress, and by the way, save your own reputation and secure Protestant succession."

Spike frowned. "Are you suggesting I marry Lady Winifred and acknowledge her child as mine?"

"Precisely. Lady Winifred's child will be born before Drusilla's, and no one will question who the rightful heir to the throne is." Sir Rupert shrugged. "Take my advice, or face the alternative."

Spike shook his head. "What about Buffy? What if I want to marry her instead of a stranger I don't love?"

He sighed. "We both know you never really had that option. Think about it, Your Majesty. If you end this now, Buffy will be sad for a month, maybe two. But in the end she will forget, go back to college, and move on. No one will be harmed. Your position as the British monarch will never be questioned again. You will be crowned at Westminster and rule the country. Be honest with yourself, you could be worse off: Lady Winifred is a very smart and adorable woman from one of England's oldest families. She was practically born to be Queen. Drusilla will be relieved of all financial concerns, she will raise the child, he or she will get the best education available and many opportunities the child of a rock star would never have."

"I'm in love with Buffy," Spike said desperately. "I'm not marrying someone else."

"As you wish. I think this conversation is over." Sir Rupert turned to walk away.

"Wait," Spike stopped him. "I can't lose her."

Sir Rupert nodded, his expression grave. "I know. And I do hope your love is as strong as you claim. It will be all you have. Whatever you do, be aware that it will break Buffy's heart if you tell everyone about Drusilla's pregnancy. There will be an impeachment trial in Parliament, you, Buffy and Dru will be in the headlines for at least a year, you will have to leave Buckingham Palace in shame, unemployed and penniless, and be left with nothing except for an illegitimate child you will be obliged to pay for until he is on the dole himself. I doubt you will be able to live in England any more, and the press will hunt you down wherever you go. If you really love Buffy... think twice before you ruin her life."

"I must talk to her," Spike insisted.

Sir Rupert's expression was blank. "Do you really believe she will give you up if you let her in? She will profess her immortal love for you and follow you to the end of the earth. And in twenty years' time, she will blame all her misery on you. I'm not saying this as Buffy's father, or as your advisor. I'm talking to you as a friend."

Spike's expression was dark. "I have to think about this."

Sir Rupert nodded. "You should. Just... do not take too long. You know where to find me."

*

Buffy opened her eyes when the door to her room opened, and a faint light fell in. She smiled when she saw Spike's shadow on the floor.

"Hi there," she said sleepily.

"Sorry," he whispered and closed the door behind him. "Hope I didn't wake you." He bent over her and kissed her softly.

Buffy shook her head. "I wasn't really sleeping." She sat up in the bed. "I was worried about you. You're pale. Your lips are cold."

"I've been working," he said evasively.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Buffy asked.

Instead of an answer, he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

Buffy finally broke the kiss to breathe. "Thought you were tired," she teased.

He slid his hands up, under her nightshirt. "I'm done with the small talk," he told her.

Buffy felt his hands trembling. She caught his wrist with her hand. "What's wrong with you?" she asked nervously, her voice shaking, whether from fear or desire she could not tell. Spike did not reply. He pinned her to the bed and covered her body with hot, passionate kisses, until she gave in to him completely.

The moon hid behind dark clouds that night. The storm tore branches from the trees, turned cars over and damaged the roof of Buckingham Palace. The rain was like a flood, seeming to wash away the traces of the past. The morning was as dark as the night, the storm clouds hanging black over the city, keeping the sky shut out. This was the kind of weather that would add to depression, had Buffy any reason to be depressed. He loved the rain. Buffy loved the rain as well. She had never been the first one to draw aside the curtains in the morning to let the sunlight in. Her room was surrounded by darkness, with only a few candles burning. She could not be sure what it was she was expecting of him; if she would ever truly understand him, or if it was the very mystery in him that she desired. She could not be sure until she felt the heat. His skin that had been icy a minute before burnt her, heart and soul. Meanwhile, the rain was hitting the roof, unmercifully; the storm was tossing loose branches against the window panes so hard she thought they would break. The frightening thing about this was that she could not care less. She felt his every move, anticipated every word he would whisper. Then he said her name. Loudly, clearly. He met her gaze. "I love you. I need you to know that."

"I love you too, Spike," she replied breathlessly.

When the storm ceased, they lay in darkness, enfolded in each other's arms, skin on skin. Spike watched her sleeping until the early morning hours. He ran his hands through her hair, over her body, memorizing every touch, every little sound of pleasure she made in her sleep. He dressed in silence, his eyes never leaving her. Then he kissed her good-bye.

TBC...

Chapter 10

The Match



When Buffy woke up the next morning, she was only mildly surprised to find Spike gone. She knew it was his big day: the day
of his first polo match, a charity match in Cirencester.

She could not wait to see how he and his team would fare, obviously praying to heaven and everybody that would listen, that
they fared well.

*

Spike enjoyed a moment away from the crowd at the polo field. He eyed Darla suspiciously. With the unfamiliar surroundings
and all the background noise outside of the stables, the pony was becoming very nervous. Her nostrils flared, her dark brown
eyes rolled, and her body was moving with heavy breaths. As much as Darla had irritated him in the past, Spike pitied her
now.

"Falling to pieces, huh?" he said softly. "Welcome to my world, luv. Just…Don't let me down today, alright?"

"Now, whom do we have here? The horse whisperer, Your Majesty?" he heard a sneering voice from behind him.

Spike turned around to see Sir Riley standing there in his polo clothes. He decided to disregard such remark, considering the
person whence it came. There were other more important things on his mind at the moment.

"I have to get Darla ready for the match," Sir Riley explained. "Besides, Sir Rupert wants a word with you."

Spike nodded. "Of course". He patted Darla's neck. "See you in a bit."

Sir Rupert was expecting him near the field. Local gentry were filing into the field and taking seats on the ranks around it. Sir
Rupert gazed pointedly at his watch. "You're late again, Your Majesty," he said sourly.

"Good morning to you as well, Sir Rupert," Spike replied levelly. He lowered his voice and glanced around quickly to make
sure no one was within earshot. "Where's Dru?"

"I had her taken home by one of the chauffeurs last night. I also took the liberty to arrange an appointment for her with a
discreet doctor the Royal family has had close ties with in the past. Do not fret; she is being taken care of." Sir Rupert sounded
casual, he gave no sign that it was bothering him a lot that the young king was involved in such a scandal, and even more so,
that Spike seemed to blindly trust every single word that woman uttered. Had it been any other member of British royalty, Sir
Rupert would immediately have suggested DNA testing to prove fatherhood, but since it was the only way to keep Spike away
from his daughter, he thought it wiser not to point that out. King William was old enough to know that not everyone was sincere
and honest, and if he chose to be irrational when it came to his first love Drusilla, Sir Rupert would not be the one to question
his monarch's judgment. Buffy would be better off without yet another royal scandal.

Spike looked relieved. "Thanks."

"I have already spotted Lady Winifred," Sir Rupert informed him, "Would you to her and have some small talk before the
match? It's good if the press see you two together."

"Of course." It took Spike a lot of self-control to push the thought of Buffy aside.

*

Lady Winifred was nervous. She was not used to so many people. Having spent most of her life at a boarding school for girls,
she was still fairly insecure when it came to socializing with the nobility. She turned her pink parasol in her hands nervously.

"Pretty as a picture".

She whirled around in her chair and beamed at the handsome man approaching her and blushed deeply. "Wesley," she sighed in
a low voice and cast her eyes down. Then she remembered they were in public and glanced around anxiously. "You shouldn't
have come here, if father sees you..."

"Don't worry, I'm here on business," he calmed her. "Security measures for His Majesty's first official polo match. Your father
knows I'm here."

"Yes, but still, we shouldn't be seen together." A shadow fell over her face. "Not now, not ever."

Wesley shook his head. "I'm going crazy not seeing you."

"I know," she said slowly. "But there's no way we can be together. We have to start seeing other people and forget what
happened. I've already told you."

"And I don't accept that," he snapped, "Fred, please, I've tried to go on without you, but I can't. We'll find a way, I promise."

She looked at him with sad and longing eyes. "I'm so sorry, Wesley. Some things just aren't meant to be."

"But we are meant to be," Wesley said, a little louder than necessary. People around them were already looking to see what
was going on.

Fred stared at him desperately.

"We are meant to be... winning today," Wesley added in a loud voice. "I firmly believe His Majesty's team will win!"

"Glad to hear that, Agent Pryce," Spike said. He and Sir Rupert had reached the couple.

Lady Winifred turned around and blushed even more furiously. "Your Majesty," she whispered and curtseyed with a nervous
nod of her head, not daring to look at him.

"Your Majesty." Wesley nodded and indicated a bow, his expression betraying that he hated to be interrupted this way.

"You remember Lady Winifred, Your Majesty," Sir Rupert said formally.

Lady Winifred still did not dare to rise. A host of photographers had gathered around them in the fraction of a second, all eyes
were on her, cameras flashing all around them.

"Of course," Spike said and extended his hand to her. Glancing at him shyly, Lady Winifred rose. "Pleased to meet you again,
Lady Winifred," he told her. "The match is about to begin, would you care to sit in the top box with your father? You will have
a good view of the field from up there."

"Oh... yes... that'd be great,... Your Majesty, thank you." Lady Winifred stumbled.

Spike smiled at her, hating himself for his false cheerfulness. "Allow me to show you to your seat, then." He offered her his arm
as hundreds of flashes lit up around them once again. Lady Winifred hated being the centre of attention. They only were able to
get rid of the press following them once they reached the top box.

"Your Majesty... could I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How can you live with that?" She gestured at the cameras around the field.

He shrugged. "No idea. Takes some getting used to, I guess. Lady Winifred..."

"Fred. Please. Call me Fred," she said, her cheeks reddened again.

"Fred. I have a première at the London Opera House next Saturday, 'The Parchese' or something."

"'The Mikado'," Fred corrected him, giggling. "And it's got nothing to do with the game!"

"See?" he said, "I'm useless at these things! I need someone to cover up my mistakes. Otherwise I'll be at the top box, by
myself, not understanding a word that’s being said."

"The opera is in English," Fred added.

"Oh, emm…that works out nicely then," said Spike somewhat embarrassed. "Anyway, I'd prefer to have some company.
Would you like to save me from two hours of boredom?"

Fred smiled faintly. "I'd love to. I love the opera."

Spike smiled back. "Okay, so that's settled. See you after the match, Lady... Fred." He walked from the top box, almost
running. The girl was sweet, clever, very pretty, and... and she was no more interested in him than he was in her. He had seen
the looks passing between her and Agent Pryce. It was obvious that the secret agent was the one who had got Fred into the
trouble she was in right now, and apparently she had decided it was best for them if they did not see each other any more.
Spike would have loved to have her as a good friend. Dating her just felt wrong. He sighed and headed to the polo field. Not
really looking where he was going, he suddenly found himself face to face with...

"There you are!" Buffy smiled brightly. She was wearing a white summer dress with blue flowers and looked stunningly
beautiful. "Just wanted to wish you luck!"

He stared at her. "Buffy."

She did not seem to notice his agitation. "You were gone so early this morning, and I didn't wanna miss your big day, so here I
am!" She nodded emphatically. "So... good luck." She made to kiss him, but Spike backed away.

Buffy frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Too many people," Spike managed to say, "Someone could see us..."

She nodded. "Right. I'll see you after the match, then."

"Yeah... I mean, no! No, sorry, have to socialize with these poofs afterwards, very boring, but necessary, you know…royal
duty and all." Just looking at her and lying in her face was torture. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Then he looked
at her again. "Gotta go."

Buffy watched him leave at a rapid pace, never once looking back at her. She was very confused.

*

The team lined up at midfield, facing the umpire. Adrenaline was rushing through Spike's veins. His eyes searched the crowd
and caught sight of Buffy, standing by the field, waving a small paper flag with the Royal Coat of Arms. He felt helpless and
angry. The best time to take his aggressions into a match of good old-fashioned polo. Just then the bell rung. The umpire threw
the ball between them. The match had begun.

Spike found he felt much more comfortable playing polo when he was not alone in the field with Sir Riley. He managed to get
rid of several opponents to allow his team mates a clear shot. Spike even used a nearside neck shot to attempt a shot at the
goal; unfortunately he narrowly missed and failed to score. The audience "Awww!"ed disappointedly. The other team took the
opportunity to counter-strike, and managed a goal immediately afterwards.

Spike shook his head in frustration. They were not going to lose this charity match. He saw the ball in front of him and urged
Darla on.

"Turn it!" Sir Riley shouted at him, meaning that he had got time, because there were not opposing players nearby to turn the
ball in the direction of his goal rather than hitting it backwards. Spike was in an ideal position to strike the ball. Suddenly,
another player crossed the imaginary line of the ball in front of him to hit it on the near side. Spike understood that a foul had
occurred, but the umpire had not seen it, the chukka was still going on. Darla was racing at top speed, the spectators and the
other players were merely blurs of colour. Then it happened very fast. He was unwilling to let go now and chased after the ball,
made for another strike at full speed, struck the ball... and felt, almost in slow motion, how he was lifted from the pony's back,
belatedly realizing how he could no longer hold on to it, nor prevent his heavy fall to the ground. His world went dark.

*

"I need to see him!" Buffy insisted.

Sir Rupert held her firmly as she struggled against him. "I told you he's all right, considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Buffy demanded.

"His doctor said it was a miracle he only got minor bruises, and an injured arm. Falling from a pony at that speed is very
dangerous. He is in a shock now, but no permanent damage was done."

"He fell on his head!" Buffy reminded him.

Sir Rupert shrugged. "Well, he does have a slight concussion, but I assume you'd need brains to suffer brain damage."

Buffy glared at her father. "Are you finished? Can I see him now?"

"I regret to tell you this, Buffy, but I cannot allow you into the ward. The doctor said he needs to rest and must not be
disturbed. Maybe you can come back tomorrow."

"Will you tell him I was here?"

Sir Rupert nodded. "Of course I will, Buffy."

With another disappointed look, Buffy walked back to the parking lot.

*

The door to Spike's room in the ward opened, and Fred peered in. She was still wearing the pink silk dress and carrying her
parasol. "Just wanted to see how you were."

"Fred," Spike said with a weak smile. "Come on in. It's nice to see a friendly face round here." He sighed. "Everyone's so
damned concerned, talking in hushed voices like I was terminally ill. Bloody hell, I fell off a pony, not the bloody Sears Tower!"

Fred smiled. "I take it you're much better already."

"Take a seat, luv," he said, "Tell me how the match ended."

Fred grabbed a chair and sat down demurely by the bed. She smiled apologetically.

He groaned. "We lost, didn't we?"

"Sorry."

He shook his head in disbelief, only to feel a searing pain in his forehead. "That wasn't the best of ideas..."

Fred reached into her tiny handbag and put a small box on the bedside table. "Chocolate cookies," she explained in a low
voice, "I smuggled them in here for you. I hear the food is very... interesting in this hospital."

"Thanks." He stared at the ceiling. "Pretty stupid, getting thrown off by a pony and hurting my head first time I get the chance to
do that in front of a camera. Bet it was all over television."

"Breaking news," Fred confirmed his worst fears.

"You must think I'm a dork."

Fred shook her head. "No, I don't. That was just bad luck."

He sighed. "Fred, will you do me a favour? Could you go back to the polo field for me and check if the poor pony is okay?
Her name's Darla. She is to be taken back to London tomorrow, but I just want to make sure she didn't get hurt. Or they get
ideas because she threw me off... She's not dangerous or anything, it was my entire fault, see, I shouldn't have...!"

Fred nodded. "Of course. I'll look after her." She rose from her seat. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

"Can we agree on Spike?" he asked desperately.

Fred frowned. "Spike? I'm supposed to call you Spike?!"

"If you don't mind..."

Fred smiled. "Not at all. I kind of like it."

As soon as she left, Sir Rupert entered the room.

Spike glared at him. "I seem to have more people wanting to see me when I'm in the hospital than when I'm at the office!"

Sir Rupert did not smile. He pointed after Lady Winifred. "That went quite satisfactory, didn't it?"

"I guess."

Sir Rupert walked around the bed and spotted the chocolate cookies on the bedside table. "I'd better take those," he said with
an amused smirk.

Spike sighed. "Can't prevent you!"

"I assure you, this is a private hospital, and the cuisine is excellent." He cleared his voice. "I have talked to Lady Winifred's
father. Lord Burkle is very pleased at the prospect of a connection between you and his daughter."

"Unlike you," Spike remarked gloomily.

Sir Rupert pretended not to have noticed. "Your doctors assure me you will be well enough on Saturday to attend the première
- with Lady Winifred. You will sit and watch the performance with her at the top box, and you will hold her hand while you are
leaving the Opera House. For the next two weeks, you will attend several charity events and high society parties together. The
press will see, interview and photograph you both, together, thus, even if it is a relatively short time, it will leave no room to
doubt that you are a happy couple. The official version will be that you and Lady Winifred first met a year ago at a language
school in Bejing you both attended and have been in touch ever since. This way, people will not start calculating when you
marry her and she has your child."

"Best laid plans," Spike said sourly.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Sir Rupert!"

"Yes?"

"What about Buffy? Was she... here to see me?"

Sir Rupert held his gaze. "No, I'm afraid she wasn't."

Spike sank back into the bed. "Can you tell her I asked to see her?"

Sir Rupert nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

*

Fred was wearing blue jeans and a white tee when she asked permission to visit the stables near the polo field. At first she was
not allowed in, but when she revealed she was Lord Burkle's daughter, permission was granted. It was slowly getting dark.
Most people had already left.

Sir Riley was still in the stable, clearing up, stalling the players' saddles away.

"So Darla wasn't injured?" she asked as she stroked the pony's mane.

"No," Sir Riley confirmed, "She's fine. We're taking her back to London tomorrow. It's not her fault that the jerk couldn't deal
with the speed. As my mum always says, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!"

Fred eyed him disapprovingly. "Yeah. Right."

Sir Riley fetched another saddle. "This one... you think there's any chance I can sneak it out of here? It would gain me a fortune
at E-bay. 'His Majesty's first saddle'! 10 000 quid, you'd reckon?"

Fred approached curiously. "Was this the saddle King William used during the polo match?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"The saddle he was using when he fell off the pony?"

"The one and only!"

"Can I have a look?" Fred took the heavy saddle from Sir Riley and examined it curiously. "The strap..." She stared at it.

"Yeah, I know. Low quality equipment, it seems, tore right through."

Fred shook her head in determination. "No. The strap didn't tear. It was cut."

TBC...

King of Hearts
Chapter 11
The Fat Lady Sings


Buffy had waited for an hour instead of the recommended twenty minutes, but the small display, no bigger than a pen, still appeared innocently white. No change of colour, no turning blue. Buffy sighed, half relieved, half disappointed. The test was negative. "So, no royal baby on the way," she murmured and cast the early pregnancy test away.

She left the bathroom with the waste paper basket in her hand, meaning to take it outside before anyone noticed.

"Buffy!"

She turned around to see her father. "Hey, Dad," she said casually, casting a quick glance at the waste. The test itself was covered by used tissues and a discarded toothbrush, but the box with the smiling baby on it was half visible. She had no way of concealing it without drawing her father's attention to the waste.

Sir Rupert studied his daughter's expression suspiciously. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, not at all," Buffy assured him, "I was just..." She gestured at the waste.

He nodded. "I see. Buffy, this morning I went to see Miss Calendar - you do remember her, don't you?"

"Of course," Buffy replied, though she had no idea who Miss Calendar was.

"I just wanted to confirm His Majesty's reservation for next Saturday, when..."

Buffy now remembered a dark-haired beauty who usually organized all kinds of social events for British nobility, MPs and other Vaguely Important Persons.

"Guess who I met at her office," her father continued.

"No idea," Buffy said, only mildly interested.

"Agent Wesley Wyndam-Pryce!"

"Uh-hu," Buffy said.

"You know him, you've met at the polo tournament," Sir Rupert reminded her.

Buffy nodded. "Dark-haired, glasses, stiff upper lip? Yep, unforgettable."

Sir Rupert shook his head. "He's just a little introvert, not the worst quality, I wish His Majesty possessed at least a little of that. Well, he was trying to get a ticket refunded, for Saturday night! He said he had two tickets, but had to go alone because he had meant to go with an old Oxford friend of his who was detained..."

Buffy shrugged. Why was he telling her that?

"Anyway," Sir Rupert got to the point, "I persuaded him to keep the second ticket!"

"So he has a free seat for his coat?" Buffy suggested.

"Buffy, please, don't be sarcastic," Sir Rupert chided her, "No, of course not, silly. So the two of you can go together!"

"Dad," Buffy said warningly, "I'm not going to date Agent Wyndam Pryce!"

"This is not a date," Sir Rupert disagreed, "You've been sitting at home a lot lately; I was thinking you might enjoy a little outing." He blinked. "But if you prefer waiting by the phone for His Majesty to call...!"

"I don't," Buffy snapped. "All right, Dad, you win. I'm going! BUT: I'm not dating Agent Wyndam Pryce, and I'm not having dinner with him, we're just two single young persons, who coincidentally happen to enjoy the opera!"

Sir Rupert nodded, pleased with himself. "All right, then. Don't let me keep you." He turned to walk away.

"Dad," Buffy said.

"Yes?"

"How is he?" Buffy asked softly.

"He looked good, he had his hair cut and got a promotion..."

"Not Wesley." She paused. "I meant Spike."

"His Majesty is still in the hospital," Sir Rupert told her.

"Can you tell him I want to see him?"

"Buffy, you ask me the same question every day," Sir Rupert said very patiently.

"I know," Buffy whispered. "So, what did he say?"

"We were talking when a visitor arrived, so I had to leave."

"A visitor." Buffy nodded, disappointed. "Who was it?"

"Lady Winifred Burkle."

"She visits him a lot, doesn't she?"

Sir Rupert shrugged. "I haven't noticed."

Buffy walked out the door "But I have." So, silently facing down, she went to dispose the waste, saddened and at the same time, relieved that his father hadn’t noticed it.



*

It took Spike until the Friday of the following week to get well enough to leave the hospital. Yet he was determined not to miss his date with Lady Winifred for the opera. He would have preferred to have Buffy by his side, but she had failed to show up at the hospital and, if Sir Rupert was to be believed, had not asked about him once. As much as it pained him, she made things easier for him by keeping the silence.

He looked at his image in the mirror. No uniform tonight, just black tux and crisp white shirt.

"Coward," he whispered to himself.

The determined knock at the door reminded him it was getting late already.

"Yes," he said.

Sir Rupert entered with a bow. "Your Majesty, we are to depart for Lord Burkle's estate if we want to be in time for the opera."

Spike nodded. "They won't start without me," he murmured under his breath.

Sir Rupert raised an eyebrow, but did not object.

*

Fred looked very beautiful in her long red evening gown with elegant stole when the royal limo picked her up at her father's estate. The press seemed to think the same way when King William and Lady Winifred entered the opera house side by side. They made a handsome couple.

Spike nodded politely at the people crowding into the opera house. He spotted Ambassador Woods, Sir Riley and Admiral Snyder. None of them failed to remark how lovely his date looked tonight.

Fred's mind, however, was elsewhere. Spike's fall during the polo match had not been an accident. Someone had cut the strap of his saddle, she had no doubt. She had not wanted to bother the king with her suspicions while he was still in hospital, but she hoped to speak to him alone as soon as they were at their seats.

"Would you like a glass of champagne before the performance starts?" Spike asked her.

"No, thank you, Your Majesty," said Fred with a slight blush, which suddenly reminded Spike his unsuspected mistake to offer a pregnant woman some licour. "Well, if you don’t mind, I will" and with that line, Spike proceeded to serve himself a full glass of champagne that he swallowed promptly in a desperate attempt to forget all of Fred and Buffy’s situations and tribulations.

"Your Majesty, it is an honour to see you again."

"Agent Wyndam Pryce," Spike said.

Then Wesley saw Fred. He froze. "Lady Winifred," he said levelly.

Fred cast her eyes down. "Agent."

"You look lovely tonight," Wesley told her, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Thanks." Fred looked in his eyes pleadingly. Can we not do this?

The tension between them was not lost on Spike. Poor Fred!

"I haven't seen Lord Burkle yet," Wesley remarked.

Fred blushed. "My father doesn't enjoy the opera."

"Yes, of course," Wesley said. "If he had told me you would be on your own, I could have kept you company."

"I'm not... on my own," Fred admitted and glanced at Spike shyly.

Wesley suddenly understood. "Oh." So we're dating the King now? He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Well, then I'll just..." He saw Buffy making her way through the crowd. She had disappeared to the bathroom a minute after they had arrived in order to escape his Oxford reminiscence. "Here comes my date," Wesley announced with a side glance at Fred.

"Sorry, there were just too many people in that bathr..." Buffy froze as she saw Spike and Fred.

Fred glanced at Buffy uneasily. The looks passing between the petite blonde and the King of England spoke volumes.

"Miss Summers," Spike said.

Buffy curtseyed as protocol required, but did not cast her eyes down. Instead, she looked daggers at him. "Your Majesty. This is a surprise."

Spike stared at her and Wesley. "Life is full of surprises."

Buffy held his gaze. "I don't like surprises."

Spike did not look away. "Neither do I."

Buffy scrutinized him. His hair was too carefully styled, his tux too elegant, his shoes too shiny. He had made a lot of effort to look gorgeous tonight. "I'm happy to see you're feeling better," she said sourly.

Spike looked at her. Her pink dress was too sexy. It was tight, emphasizing her curves, the neckline was too low, her hair too silky in the candlelight. "Glad you care that much about my health," Spike retorted.

Buffy looked away. Her eyes fell on Fred. The other woman looked like a lady, with her hair up and the red dress that had probably cost more money than the car Buffy had ruined. Buffy felt like a schoolgirl dressed up for prom. With her blond hair down and her silly pink dress, she had to look like a Malibu Barbie.

Fortunately, that was when the bell rang, announcing the opera was about to begin.

"We should go in," Wesley suggested.

"Right," Buffy said with a last glance at Spike.

Spike and Fred left and ascended the stairs.

*

"So, what's the opera about?" Spike asked.

Fred was happy to have something safe to talk about, to take their minds off of their messed up love lives. "The Mikado is the king of Japan. He has forbidden flirting among unmarried couples. If you break the law, you can be sentenced to death. The Mikado's son, Nanki-Poo, comes to town in the disguise of an itinerant musician. Nanki-Poo is in love with the beautiful Yum-Yum, but she is engaged to the Lord High Executioner Ko-Ko. Ko-Ko is under pressure because The Mikado has given orders that someone must be executed within a month. He offers Nanki-Poo a devilish deal: he will release Yum-Yum to marry Nanki-Poo, but only if Nanki-Poo agrees to be sentenced to death and executed within a month." While she was talking, Fred realized that this maybe wasn't the best opera to distract them from their troubles.

"Sounds like fun," Spike remarked gloomily.

"It ends well," Fred reassured him.

Spike shrugged and looked down at the stage. The curtains were still closed.

Fred hesitated. "Spike, there's something I have to talk to you about."

He sighed. "Yes, I was with Buffy before. It couldn't work out, I mean, she's Sir Rupert's daughter, he hates me, and..."

"That's not what I meant," Fred said shyly.

"Oh. Alright, then."

"About your accident," Fred began. "Remember you asked me to go to the stables and look after your pony Darla?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, I went there, and..."

The curtains opened and revealed the stage.

"Maybe we can talk during the intermission," Spike suggested and turned his attention to the opera.

*

Buffy was grateful when the opera started. Talking to Wesley for five minutes had already bored her to tears. The opera house was dark. She craned her neck to look up to the royal box, but she could not see anything. Probably Spike was holding Lady Winifred's hand. It made her furious.

She was not enjoying the opera at all. The lyrics made her furious, too.

NANKI-POO.
Were you not to Ko-Ko plighted,
I would say in tender tone,
"Loved one, let us be united--
Let us be each other's own!"
I would merge all rank and station,
Worldly sneers are nought to us,
And, to mark my admiration,
I would kiss you fondly thus--
YUM-YUM.
But as I'm engaged to Ko-Ko,
To embrace you thus, con fuoco,
Would distinctly be no gioco,
And for yam I should get toko--
NANKI-POO.

So, In spite of all temptation,
Such a theme I'll not discuss,
And on no consideration
Will I kiss you fondly thus-- (Kissing her.)
Will I kiss you fondly thus.
Let me make it clear to you,
This is what I'll never do!
The lovers on stage kissed, the lights went off briefly, the curtains closed. The ceiling lights went on.

Buffy rose with relief. "So, that's it," she said happily. "Wesley, it's been a pleasure, thank you very..."

"But this has just been the first act," Wesley explained.

Buffy paled. "There's another one."

Wesley stared at her in shock, then suddenly laughed. "You really had me going there for a minute. Come on, let us get some champagne. There will be an intermission of fifteen minutes, I could tell you how I was appointed Head Boy at Eton..."

"I think I have to go to the bathroom," Buffy hurried to say.

"But you went right before the...!" Wesley protested.

"Girl stuff." Buffy winked.

Wesley nodded. "Oh, right."

"See you in a bit." Buffy fled.

*

Spike was still glued to his seat.

"Don't you want to go downstairs and mingle?" Fred asked.

He shook his head. "Go if you like, I'd rather to stay put, if you don’t mind. I'm not in the mood for warm champagne and shallow conversation."

Fred nodded compassionately. "I'll just go to the bathroom and come back here. Maybe we can talk before the second act starts."

*

Buffy was on her way to the bathroom when she saw Lady Winifred coming down the stairs from the royal box - alone. She hesitated. This might be her only chance to speak to Spike alone. Buffy only thought about it for a moment. Then she boldly walked up the stairs and asked Spike's guard to speak to the King.

She opened the door and took a tentative step into the box.

Spike jumped from his seat. "Buffy."

She stood motionless and silent for an uncomfortable minute. "How are you?" she finally asked.

He knew he should do the right thing and send her away. But his lips moved before his reason could object. "I miss you," he said softly.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Yeah. That's why you never asked to see me once."

He blinked. "I did..." He paused, rage beginning to rise in his clear blue eyes. "Why am I trying to defend myself? You were the one who didn't seem to miss me all that much. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here with that git."

"Well, how about your date?" Buffy snapped. "Lady Winifred, dresses like she's fifty and talks like she's five!"

"At least she was at the hospital when I lay dying!"

"You lay dying? You fell from a horse and had a few bruises! If she has the time to sit by your bed and hold your hand, that's fine with me! Some of us don't have all day for charity; some of us actually had to work!" Buffy took a step back. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I shouldn't have come here in the first place. Don't worry, I won't bother you again. I will go home, light a candle and thank God that I'm not carrying your child!" She made to storm out from the box, but Spike caught hold of her arm.

"What did you just say?"

"Never mind," Buffy said quietly. "I was a bit worried because I was overdue. I was just tense, I think. The test was negative."

Spike hesitated. He had been determined to stick to Sir Rupert's plan and never to see Buffy again, for her own good. Now his resolution was faltering. "Why didn't you come to me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"You were busy with Lady Winifred," Buffy said bitterly.

"You didn't have to go through this alone," he replied.

Buffy shook her head. "Yes, I did. I always have to go through everything alone. You're never there. You're always away, working hard to impress people you don't care about."

"I'm the King of England!"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, "Wish you weren't, but you are."

"So this is it?" Spike asked desperately.

Buffy kept her head held high and walked away from him.

*

The second act started, but the seat next to Buffy was still unoccupied. Where had Wesley gone? Was he as bored with her as she was with him and just left? She could not care less. Her evening was ruined anyway.

The music of the second act was even more beautiful than the songs of the first one, but Buffy had no enthusiasm left to appreciate it. Yum-Yum's wedding song was just beginning:


The sun, whose rays
Are all ablaze
With ever-living glory,
Does not deny
His majesty--
He scorns to tell a story!
He don't exclaim,
"I blush for shame,
So kindly be indulgent."
But, fierce and bold,
In fiery gold,
He glories all effulgent!
I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky--
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!
Yeah, Buffy thought gloomily, that was so like Spike! She hoped he was listening closely. She looked around to see if the light was better than during the first act so she might get a glimpse of Spike and Lady Winifred.


Observe his flame,
That placid dame,
The moon's Celestial Highness;
There's not a trace
Upon her face
Of diffidence or shyness.
And it was. A blinding spotlight which symbolized the moon had risen above the stage. Buffy could see quite clearly. But what she saw froze the blood in her veins.


She borrows light
That, through the night,
Mankind may all acclaim her!
In one of the top boxes on the gallery, she recognized something shiny and metallic: the barrel of a rifle. The shooter was concealed in the dark, but he was aiming straight at the king's box. Buffy's head flew around. Spike and Winifred had not noticed anything. They were intently watching the play. The person hidden in the box right opposite of them was positioning the rifle. Only seconds remained. No way could she alert security in time. There was just one chance.


And, truth to tell,
She lights up well,
So I, for one, don't blame her!
Buffy hoisted up her dress and leapt over the astonished opera visitors in the rows before her.


Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!
Spike stared down at the audience. Someone was racing toward the stage, and it looked like...

"Isn't that Buffy Summers?" Fred asked, surprised.

"What's she up to?" Spike wondered.


Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!
Buffy climbed up the stage. The music stopped at the unexpected interruption. Security reacted at once and ran for the stage to stop her, but the element of surprise was on Buffy's side. She tore the microphone from the flabbergasted Yum-Yum's costume and yelled in the direction of the top box: "DOWN!"

Spike reacted instinctively. He leaped from his seat and pushed Fred on the floor with him. A deafening shot cut the air like a knife. The bullet hit the seat in which Spike had sat just a second ago.

Security flooded the top boxes and blocked all exits.

"Where is he?" Wesley demanded, suddenly appearing at Buffy's side.

"Where were you?" she asked reproachfully.

"In the bathroom," he said apologetically. "It was too busy during the intermission, so I thought..."

"He's in the box opposite the royal box, hurry!" Buffy informed him.

Wesley nodded. "We'll get him."

*

They did not get him. The shooter had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.

Security had gotten Spike out of the opera house through the back exit under extreme safety measures. And yet someone had managed to get that close to the king once again. There had been appalling security leaks in the past, and it was safe to say some heads would roll this time as well, but the fact remained that the king was nowhere really safe.

Fred was sitting in his office, a blanket wrapped around her and a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.

"I should have insisted on talking to you before we went to the opera," she blamed herself; "I had feared they'd try it again."

"Again?" Spike asked in confusion. "Do you mean this wasn't the first time?"

Fred made a guilty little face. "When I went to the stables after the polo match, I got to see your saddle. The strap was cut, not torn. Someone wanted you to fall from the pony and break your neck. And when you think about what happened at Canterbury. I think it makes perfect sense. If I may speak openly: I don't think it was a coincidence that shield came down when you were under it. Someone wants you dead."

Spike's head hurt. "But why?"

"You're not exactly the perfect king from the fairytales," Sir Rupert remarked, "Among the traditionalists in British royalty, you are regarded as a disgrace. I could name about fifty people who have a reason to want you dead before your official coronation."

Spike sighed. "So what do we do?"

Fred's eyes sparkled. "We'll set a trap they can't resist. And then we hunt them down."

Spike looked at her with a surprised expression. Hell of a girl.

*

"'A family of heroes'," Buffy's friend Xander Harris quoted from a quality paper.

"Oh, shut up," Buffy complained and took another sip of her cappuccino.

"'After her father's, Sir Rupert G.'s, heroic prevention of a tragic accident at Canterbury a few weeks ago, his daughter Buffy S., currently employed at Buckingham Palace, proved to be equally courageous and patriotic by saving her sovereign's life at yesterday's performance of 'The Mikado' at the London Opera House," Xander read on.

"At least they didn't publish your full name," Willow comforted her.

"'Police circles announced that the attempted assassination of King William has been no more than the unreflected deed of a mentally disordered single perpetrator. The police are currently holding subjects in custody for questioning'."

"They don't know a thing," Buffy snapped. "They're completely in the dark! If they rounded up the usual suspects, there would not be any high society left!"

Xander still seemed more interested in the newspaper report than in Buffy's first hand account. "'His Majesty has expressed his infinite gratitude to Miss S., who will be rewarded with the Royal Medal of Courage, First Order, at a reception held at Buckingham Palace tomorrow afternoon at five o'clock."

"Infinite gratitude!" Buffy shook her head. "He can go to hell for all I care!"

"Yeah, right," Xander said, "That's why you saved his life last night!"

"I would have even saved the American president last night! Okay, in that specific case I might have thought about it a little bit longer, but that had nothing to do with Spike personally." She paused. "He's got that Burkle woman."

Willow shook her head. "Maybe they're just friends! I'm sure he still in love with you. How can he not? You saved him! He'll come to you after the reception. You know what they say. The opera isn't over till the fat lady sings."

Buffy pouted. "The fat lady's done her singing. And it's so over." She drank her cappuccino down in frustration. "Y'know what? Wesley has asked me out again!"

"But you're not going!" Xander interfered with a serious expression.

Buffy looked at him as if he were insane. "Of course not! He's a jerk."

"I think he's kind of cute," Willow said.

"Puppies are kind of cute, too," Buffy replied, "But I wouldn't wanna date one!" She took the newspaper article out from Xander’s hands. "I'm gonna send that to mom. She'll be thrilled."

Xander scanned the papers for more articles about the events. "Oh, here's another one."

"The SUN," Buffy said with disgust.

"'Buff Naked? - PLAYBOY offers 500,000 for nude heroine!'" Xander paused then added with a lecherous tone and a hopeful face. "Are you considering that?"

"Put it away," Buffy chided him.

"Hey, you could give the money to your dad for his car and pay off your debts!" Everyone stared at Xander disapprovingly. "Just a thought."

*

"I'm not sure if we're doing the right thing," Spike told Fred. "This is turning out to be too dangerous."

"If we want to catch him, the moment to do so, is now. Imagine he comes after you at your coronation. With all those people in Westminster Abbey, the risk would be much higher," Fred said. "He is bound to try it at the reception tomorrow. He knows the exact time and place. What's more, he knows that you and Buffy, who have previously ruined his plans, will be there. He won't miss the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Don't you worry. There'll be guards circulating the perimeter and this time they’ll be looking out for something and someone specific. It'll be a calculated risk. The fact that this reception is going to be a set up is a knowledge that he doesn’t have. We have the advantage on him or her." Fred smiled reassuringly. It had been her plan, but she was as nervous as Spike was.

"What if he throws a bomb?"

"It's not his style," Fred said. "If you remember correctly, he has tried to kill you three times, and in those three instances, he has never, ever, put anyone else in danger. You're the target, Spike. And you alone. Security will be focused on you alone. The Secret Service will be at your side. So, no big worries."

He looked at her sceptically. " Yeah. You say so because it’s not your ass on the line. And besides, how could I be worried when Agent Wyndam Pryce will be there to protect me. That’s a really encouraging thought."

"Hey." She sat down next to him while taking hold of his hand in support. "Look at me. I know Wesley. He's very responsible. The assassin’s not even going to get close to you."

Spike looked at her in the eyes. "You love him, huh?"

"I don't think..."

"I saw you gaze at each other. At the polo match AND last night." He smirked.

Fred blushed. "I'm here. Right?"

He studied her burning face. "Right. But... you love him."

Fred rose and added, nearly whispering. "I'll survive."

He nodded. "So will I." But he was not so sure, after all, he had a rendez-vous with a killer, his wanna-be killer, to attend tomorrow.


TBC...

 

Chapter 12

The Queen in Question


Author's note: thanks to my betas Kar and Mariana, here's the new chapter. Enjoy!

Lyrics of "A Thousand Kisses Deep" by Leonard Cohen.


Buffy did not want to go to the reception, but she knew she had no choice. Refusing the Royal Medal of Courage would embarrass her father, so without much fuss on her part, she decided she would have to endure the ceremony, even if it killed her, or well, at least her dignity. She decided to wear a very conservative grey costume with a white blouse and plain shoes (no need to provoke PLAYBOY to repeat their offer), then, she’ll proceed to go upstairs for the reception at the ballroom. The more she thought about it, the more she considered the reception a truly bad idea. If someone was planning on killing Spike, she doubted they would give up after having failed at the opera.

*

The tiny state-of-the-art microphone Wesley was wearing was virtually invisible. "Center to all units. Report anything extraordinary under all circumstances. Over."

"Acknowledged. Over and out."

Wesley eyed all the people present in the ballroom suspiciously.

At that moment, Fred entered, wearing a light blue jacket and matching long skirt. He took a deep breath and walked up to her.

"Wesley," she said, scared, looking about anxiously. "Anything wrong?"

"Everything's wrong." He lowered his voice. "I need to talk to you."

She shook her head. "There is nothing to talk about."

"I beg to differ." He opened the door for her and led her out into the corridor. Security outside was not paying attention to them. "Fred, let me speak to your father once more. I love you. I'm willing to fight." He took a tiny box from his jacket and opened it. Fred held her breath. In it was the most perfect engagement ring she had ever seen.

"What do you want me to say?" she breathed.

Wesley looked at her expectantly. "Just say yes."

Fred looked away. "You know I can't. I'm sorry." Suddenly she looked very vulnerable. "Just let me go. I have to be with King William."

His expression cooled. "Is that your place now?"

She looked at him desperately. "I guess."

"Fred, please." He took hold of her hand in an act of desperation.

She shook it off. "Are you crazy? You can't do that in public!"

"I don't care," he said, louder than was necessary.

"I'm sorry." She made to walk past him. She felt his gaze piercing her back which made her turn around, pleading and suffering eyes showing on her face that in his angry state went unnoticed. "Just …Forget about me."

His face was burning. "All right. Then forget about all of this!" He tore off his microphone and trampled it on the floor, then, in a helpless, rebellious gesture, tore off his tie. "I quit!"

"Wesley! You can't quit now, you're the leader of the operation, His Majesty needs you here!"

He looked at her coldly. "From now on, I'm going to take care of what I need."

"Wes," she pleaded, "Talk to me!"

"There is nothing to talk about." And with that final statement he stormed out of the corridor and of her sight.

*

Spike was waiting in a private chamber next to the ballroom. He looked relieved when Fred entered. "Fred!"

She looked worried. "We have a problem. Wesley. He's gone!"

"What do you mean, he's gone?"

"He quit."

"Why?"

"Because of... because of me, I guess."

Spike was getting even more nervous, but for Fred's sake tried not to show it. "All right. Can't be helped now. I'll enter the ballroom with two Gurkha Orderly Officers; the body guard and the Yeomen of the Guard are on duty, and half the people in the ballroom are security. I'll be ok."

Fred nodded.

Sir Rupert made his way towards them. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it is five o'clock. We should begin."

Spike nodded.

Sir Rupert lowered his voice. "Have you talked to Lady Winifred about what we discussed?"

Spike avoided his eyes. "Not yet."

Fred looked at him questioningly. "Talked to me? What about?"

Sir Rupert smiled. "There are some things I have to attend to before the Investiture begins. Let me know when you're ready." He discreetly closed the door behind him.

Spike took a deep breath. "We need to talk."

Fred shifted uneasily. "Now?"

"Now."

*

Journalists and reporters from all the major newspapers and TV stations had been invited to join the reception and were waiting anxiously, cameras ready. The recipients of decorations were gathered in the ballroom. Each of them had been allowed to bring three friends to witness the occasion. Buffy had invited Xander and Willow along, who felt strangely out of place at the ballroom of Buckingham Palace.

Buffy was watching the door to the adjoining chamber intently. She noticed Lady Winifred sneaking out of there and taking a seat at the front row.

Then two officers left the room, accompanying the King.

Buffy's heartbeat almost stopped.

Sir Rupert stepped forward and cleared his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up for the National Anthem."

Music was provided, as Sir Rupert had already told her, by a military band. Buffy's eyes were scanning the crowd. Some of them she recognized as security, others as recipients and their families, others were wearing name tags of the newspaper or TV station they worked for. None of them appeared to be an assassin.

After the anthem, Spike stepped forward for his welcoming speech. He reminded everyone present of the virtues that had established the Empire, and of the courage and effort of individuals that had been the pillars of society since the beginning of time.

Buffy was getting sick hearing it.

Uniformed servants were presenting the medals and decorations which were to be awarded to valuable citizens that day.

The first ones to be awarded that day were the recipients of a knighthood, who would be entitled to style themselves Sir from now on. They were called forth by Sir Rupert in alphabetical order and had to kneel on an Investiture stool before the King. Spike used a sword that had belonged to his grandfather, King George VI, to dub the Knight.

Each time, Spike had to repeat the ceremony. Buffy noticed to her surprise that, unlike in the movies Buffy had seen, he never said the words "Arise, Sir X", but merely touched their shoulders lightly with the flat sword. She was a little disappointed. Spike then invested the knight with the insignia of the Order to which he had been appointed. By the time Sir Zachory had been knighted, Buffy was truly bored.

Finally, when the knights were through, the recipients of other decorations were called forth, again starting with the letter A. Buffy silently reproached her father for not marrying her mother, she would have preferred a last name starting with a G instead of an S. In high school, being so late in the alphabet had burdened her with reports on topics no one else wanted and waiting for her diploma at graduation until no one was willing to listen any more nor clap to the hard-worked graduate. It had been right down torture, since everyone at that point was silently longing for dinner.

She was getting increasingly more nervous. The air seamed to have left her lungs on two occasions; when two of the attendants, surely invited by a recipient, reached into their respective pockets, thankfully, not producing a gun. The first time was when the husband of Mary Carpenter, a social worker receiving the George Cross, was scratching his shoulder because his skin itched under the heavy wool of his suit, on the second case, the sister of Sir Christian was searching her pockets for a handkerchief because she was so touched by her brother's knighthood she began crying.

When a woman with her last name beginning with an R was honoured for her achievements to improve the literary education of British youth by getting kids to read, Buffy noticed the housemaids getting ready to serve champagne for the guests after the ceremony. All guests were paying more attention to them, definitely more attentive in the prospect of getting a free glass of champagne than to acknowledge the ceremony. She sighed. Graduation Day, Part two!

Sir Rupert cleared his voice and smiled at her when he announced: "Summers, Buffy Anne. Royal Medal of Courage, for extraordinary awareness and patriotism."

Buffy's knees were weak when she stepped forward and faced Spike.

His blue eyes were even deeper than she remembered them. His hands were trembling so much he dropped the medal. Two attendants were at his side immediately to pick it up from the floor and hand it back to him. The audience giggled.

Spike gave her the ghost of a smile.

Buffy's face was stern.

He placed the decoration on her and took her hand.

"Congratulations, Miss Summers," he said, barely audible.

Her eyes filled with tears. She felt she could not bear his touch any longer.

The journalists moved closer to get a good photo of the woman who had saved the king's life and begged for another moment to take their pictures.

"Miss Summers, here, please!" someone said.

Buffy turned her head to look at the camera. From the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, dark-haired man in a black suit, reach into his jacket. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him. In the brief flashlight of a camera, something metallic glistened as he took it out.

The assassin! He was right in front of them, within a yard of Spike and no one between them.

Buffy did not think twice. Without another thought, she pushed against Spike and thrust him to the floor, drawn with him by the momentum and landing on top of him.

Security reacted at once and rushed forward.

"He's got a gun!" Buffy yelled, pointing at the man.

Secret service men and yeomen of the guard held him and started searching his pockets.

Buffy stared at Spike, still on top of him, so stunned she did not even think of moving.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded absently, still in a shock.

"Thank God," she whispered, pressing against him. She paused, then looked at him. "Have you been working out a lot? Your muscles feel like steel."

He shrugged apologetically and opened a button of his uniform so Buffy could see a Kevlar vest underneath.

"Oh."

Guards were running towards them to help them to get to their feet, while the press's whole attention had turned to the arrest of the assassin.

Spike ran his fingers through Buffy's hair. "I'm all right... thanks to you."

"I don't know what I'd have done if he had killed you," she said softly. "Spike, I... I didn't mean what I said last night. I don't care if you're the King of England, the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope! I love you, and I want to be with you."

Spike stared at her, overwhelmed by her confession.

"Your Majesty," a member of the secret service said.

"Not now," Spike said harshly, still looking at Buffy.

"But Your Majesty..."

"I said NOT NOW!"

"Your Majesty, he hasn't got a gun!"

"WHAT?" Spike walked up to the secret service man. At once, press and security pushed past him, separating him from Buffy.

"No gun," a guard confirmed.

"I was just making sure I had turned my cell phone off," the putative assassin apologized.

"It was just a trick of the light that made the phone look like a gun from where Miss Summers stood," another guard added. "This is Sir Toby of Pickford, you awarded his son knighthood today."

*

"We could all use a glass of champagne after that shock," Sir Rupert tried to save the situation and urged the housemaids to serve the appointed beverages to the guests.

Buffy's face was red. She had made a complete fool of herself.

Willow tried to calm her while order was slowly returning to the ballroom. "You couldn't possibly have known!" she said, "What if he really have had a gun?"

"He didn't, and Spike is wearing a bullet-proof vest!"

"Well, yeah, but he could have been shot in the head!"

"No damage there," Xander remarked. Willow shot him an angry glance.

Buffy shook her head. "If it hadn't been for my little outburst..."

Willow frowned. "Outburst?"

Buffy nodded. "When everyone was paying attention to Sir Toby... I told Spike I love him."

Willow smiled. "But that's great news! Now he knows, and he'll talk to you, and everything will be fine!"

Buffy looked at her doubtfully when Willow pressed a glass of champagne into her hand.

Unexpectedly, Spike drew everyone's attention back to himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I know this is a little unusual, some people may call it outrageous even, in the light of what's just happened. But there is something I have to say that cannot wait."

Buffy's head flew around.

Spike paused until every camera in the room was focused on him. Only then did he speak again. "In the past few days, my life has been in danger several times, and I have come to realize that death might be just around the corner without our knowing. I have had time to think. About the future of England, and my own. There has been one woman who has always been there for me throughout these difficult times. She is brave, she is clever, she takes care of others and she possesses all the qualities I could possibly wish for in a woman. Rumours in the recent press are correct. I have come to realize my feelings for her run very deep. And she has confirmed only today she feels the same way."

Buffy's heartbeat stopped.

Willow grinned. "See? He's talking about you!" She pushed Buffy a few steps ahead. "Go!" she whispered.

Buffy took a deep breath. She could not believe Spike was doing this in front of all those people. She prepared to walk up to him.

Spike briefly closed his eyes, and then faced the crowd. "I have asked her to marry me, and she said yes. I would like you to meet Lady Winifred Burkle, my fiancée and the future Queen of England."

Under the cheers of the crowd, Fred smiled shyly into the cameras as Spike kissed her cheek.

Buffy was suddenly feeling very dizzy. Her world lost its colour. She stared at Spike.

He met her gaze. His expression was like stone.

Buffy shook her head in disbelief, her eyes filling with tears. "I wish you luck," she said coldly.

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent as she ran from the room. His fingers lost their grip on the champagne flute, he dropped his glass.

A housemaid was immediately there to clean up the mess.

*

The barrel of the gun shone in the sunlight. Its owner chuckled as he was watching the live broadcast. "You didn't think I would be that stupid, walking right into your trap!" The assassin glanced at the calendar at the wall. "One more week until your coronation, Your Majesty. Enjoy it. And take a good look at your crown. It will be the last thing you'll ever see."

*

Dawn Summers was the first one to pick up the phone. "Helloooo!"

"Dawn? Is that you?"

Dawn's face lit up. "Buffy!"

Buffy smiled. "Hi, Dawnie. How's school?"

"I'm a reserve cheerleader," Dawn announced proudly.

"That's great news," Buffy replied, trying her best to sound happy.

"How's England?"

Buffy did not reply for a moment. She took a deep breath. "Is Mom in?"

"At the gallery."

"Can you tell her something for me?"

"Sure."

"Tell her... tell her I'm coming home. I'm coming home next week."

Dawn was a teenager, but she was not stupid. She heard her sister did not sound happy. "Everything ok?" she asked with concern.

Buffy forced herself to smile, but the smile did not find its way into her voice. "I'm just tired. Tell Mom I'll call her tomorrow."

"Ok. I'm glad you're coming home, Buffy."

"So am I." Buffy hung up before her voice failed her. She fell on her bed; all rolled up in a small ball and started crying. Wish they'd killed you! When she had no more tears and her eyes were all red and puffy, she turned the radio on and started packing her bags to a song by Leonard Cohen.

I’m turning tricks, I’m getting fixed,

I’m back on Boogie Street.

I guess they won’t exchange the gifts

That you were meant to keep.

And quiet is the thought of you,

The file on you complete,

Except what we forgot to do,

A Thousand Kisses Deep.

*

"Sir Rupert, could I have a word with you?"

Buffy's father turned around in surprise. It was not too often that one of the housemaids addressed him. "Of course," he said. "What is the matter, Sally?"

"At the Investiture, His Majesty dropped his glass, and I came to clean it up," Sally explained.

"Yes? So what?"

Without another word, Sally showed him the cloth she had used. There were holes in it. "Those weren't there before," she said, "Personally, I think there was something in the champagne."

"No word to anyone," Sir Rupert ordered, "Give that to me. I'll have it analysed. If I find out you told anyone about this, you can pack your things and look for another job... in Timbuktu. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

TBC...