Lancelot and Guinievere

Chapter 1

Spike leaned his head wearily back against the cold concrete wall of the school basement. His moments of sanity came and went these days. He never knew when the battle inside would rage again and send him teetering to the edge of sanity. So little of the day truly made sense - between the soul's guilt over his past transgressions, and the true evil he knew crawled in and out of his consciousness, he wondered how much longer would pass before something broke irreparably deep within.

Footsteps echoed in the cavernous environment of the basement as someone neared the corner he'd laid claim to. Almost he wished for something to engulf him again, the soul's torment or the evil's madness, just so he could avoid the interaction with whichever member of the Scoobies had returned to seek out his services again. They were so much easier to deal with when he peered at them from behind the veil of his madness. Except for her. Why does a man do what he musn't? For her... and speaking of the devil or in this case, his goddess, his Guinievere, here she was in all her effulgent glory.

"Buffy," he greeted, rising to his feet from the half-crouched position he had meditatively been in for the last few hours.

"Spike," she returned.

Her face betrayed her and he felt a slight jolt as he realized there was concern in her expression that seemed to be directed at him.

"Spike, will you walk with me," she asked. "Just outside, to the courtyard? It's late and I waited until the other staff cleared out." She turned and began to walk away, as though she had no doubt he would follow at her request, but suddenly stopped and faced him again.

"Please."

Spike sighed and hoped the sanity remained just a little longer as he followed her out of the basement and into the moonlit courtyard of the school.

***************

Buffy sat on a bench and waited until Spike tentatively seated himself at the other end before starting.

"Spike, I don't know were to begin. I needed a few days to think, after what happened in the church."

"I wasn't entirely myself, or at least myself was not entirely together that night," he replied, hoping to prevent some deep exploration of his new status he knew he wasn't ready to discuss with her.

"Well, that's the thing." Buffy stared at the foliage behind his head for a long moment, then drew herself up with a determined face. "Spike, you can't stay here."

"What, Slayer, I'm not hurting anyone here." He could feel the somewhat conflicting sensations of anger from his demon and sadness from his soul that he had once again failed the Buffy test in some indefinable way by his mere existence.

"No." Buffy's face softened, ever so slightly and her hand reached out to touch his arm. **Wow, he seems smaller and less threatening without the coat somehow, I have to remember to ask if he wants it back.** The coat remained in the hall closet at the Summers house, an object that Buffy had only looked at rarely when the anger or longing became too much.

"Spike, I think this place is hurting you. It's on the Hellmouth, you know that. I think it's feeding your," Buffy paused, returning to her internal dialogue. **Should she say madness, why the heck not, he had mentioned it himself several times.** "Your nuttiness."

"If you'll leave with me, we'll take you back to your crypt or, maybe you could stay with Xander, he's living alone now, or..." Buffy stopped.

She should have had a more definite idea and plan before she came down those stairs. But her talk with Willow and the struggles she'd faced had brought Spike's frail state to the fore again. She knew, deep inside, that she still had a few things to face before they were healed as well. Sitting at her desk all day, listening to the woes of adolescents ranging from the absurd to the truly disturbing, she had found her mind wandering to the vampire with a soul who had taken up residence in the basement. She couldn't leave him alone to be tormented, even after what had happened between them. He was her Lancelot. She sighed. One day, she would have to face certain memories that she had pushed aside during the summer, when her focus had been on Dawn and Xander and reconnecting with life, but not yet with love. But for now, she knew she needed to help heal this broken man, her former lover and friend. She suddenly realized she had zoned out and found Spike gazing at her with that awed look he seemed to get at times these days.

"... or you might could stay in my basement, if you want. Its dark and quiet there, we would leave you in peace."

"Buffy, I appreciate the offer, but I can't - can't be that close to you right now."

Buffy paused, slightly taken aback. Spike, not wanting a spot in the Summers household, not jumping at the chance to be near her? **Oh right, Conceited Buffy much. He needs space and likely you do to. Don't want to begin communing with the evil undead again, or not so evil undead, or OK, stop before my head explodes.**

"Well, what about Xander? "

"Yeah, I imagine the whelp would love to have me in his home."

"Actually, Spike you might be surprised. Xander has changed over the summer and I think he'd let you stay," a slight grin crossed her face, "even if only to make sure it's not with me."

"I'll think on it Buffy."

Somewhere, something deep inside him lit up. She cared, if only a little, a least about his basic well-being - or did she? His demon laughed at his confusion. **She just needs you to be her tracker, her seer, her strongman, she doesn't really care for you, it was all just a game.** He felt the throes of struggle beginning and knew he needed to back away from her.

"Buffy, I'll think on it and get back to you - you run the idea by Xander, OK? Thank you for your concern."

And then he was gone.

Buffy looked at the sky and sighed. She should patrol now. Sacred duty, etc. But she needed some time to sort things, in a way she had resolutely failed to do over the summer. She knew things were better with Dawn, her ties with Xander were the best they'd ever been - her sister and "brother" were good. And Willow, her bubbly, shy, nerdy best friend, who had changed and become so much more than any of them would have ever suspected. Buffy knew they were on the right track, that healing had begun. None of them were innocents any longer. They had all, one way or another, taken lives, or been responsible for the loss of life. But they were healing now. Except for one final and possibly the most difficult relationship to resolve - Spike.

Chapter 2

Buffy strolled through the cemetery, having completed her sweep for the night. She wasn't sure she should do this, but it was time to face the past and move into the future. She stopped at her destination - Spike's old crypt. She paused at the door, but somehow, going back inside seemed wrong. Instead, she clambered up on the roof and stared at the moon as she weighed the balance of scales.

Last year had been both hard and confusing. In retrospect, there had been so many mistakes she had made, but all things considered, turning to Spike had not been one of them. Their execution had been horrible, but Buffy knew, had it not been for Spike as her anchor, death would have found her before the start of 2002. Sweet's spell, a random vamp, someone would have had their one good day if she hadn't had Spike to turn to, to talk to and later to make her feel.

But despite his utter devotion to her, despite his adoration and support, she'd known, deep down, that their relationship was unacceptable. Her stint with Angel and their star-crossed affair had shown that unlike a corn-fed Iowa boy, a vampire for a lover would always be met with suspicion, even when he had a soul.

Ultimately, her mental musings had always come full circle last year. She was choosing between the love of an imperfect creature and the acceptance of her friends and her calling. No good Slayer would be involved with not one, but two vamps, right? Of course not.

But, underlying these reflections on the past was the knowledge that there was a new factor for her to weigh that wasn't in play the year before. Spike had earned a soul for her. The rules from before, even with regards to Angel, were now new and different. The immensity of that act still boggled her mind and humbled her, that he would do such a thing to be worthy of her.

She had been so confused after the horrible incident in the bathroom. No one deserved what she went through, but always, in the back of her mind, she'd had a nagging fear that somehow the atrocity he had forced on her was a karmic return of what she had done to him. And now, knowing how far he gone to remedy that wrong, she could only wonder if the fatal flaw in any future relationship lay with her and not him.

Her mind drifted back to the past February....

Chapter 3

The incident with Katrina and Warren, the time shifters, her horrific beating of Spike and Tara's revelation that she was fundamentally the same person as before . . . all of it blurred together in its terrible remembrance. Buffy had felt like she was grasping at anything and her couplings with Spike had reached an intensity that frightened her. He was bringing her into the dark, but she'd wanted it so much.

In those quiet, shadowed, unholy places, she could put away the troubles of her minimum wage job, her troubled best friend, the bickering of the soon to be wed couple and the terrible parenting job she had done with Dawn. His touch, the feel of his body sliding against hers. The sweat, the friction, everything was intense beyond any sexual encounter she'd ever had before him.

Any time he'd wanted to slow down, to worship her body, to engage in gentle teasing foreplay with soft caresses and murmurs of his love, she'd reacted badly, to put it mildly. Only when he was hard and brutal and dark with her would she allow his attention, or in some cases, demand it. She still remembered the day he told her she was an animal, and her indignation at his statement. But somewhere, after her weeping confession to Tara, she'd known that he was partly right.

She wasn't a demon. She was still fundamentally Buffy, but Buffy 1.0 and 2.0 had both had a thing for the dark side. Just a little, not a Faithesque fascination, but she did like a little monster in her man. She had liked to see the monster in Spike when they were together. As long as he was the monster and she was an animal, clawing, biting and giving as good as she got, then as real as it felt, as much as it recharged her batteries, it wasn't permanent. A quick roll in the hay, a series of one night stands, an orgasm friend, to use Anya speak.

But there were times when his kisses would soften, his hands would slow, and he would try to make her look him in the eyes as they shivered and ground their way towards climax. Buffy fought these moments, distracting him by sinking her teeth in his neck, or scoring his flanks with her nails, throwing a little pain in the mix to be sure he didn't get too lovey dovey. That was her, the hellcat on the Hellmouth in bed.

But her subconscious betrayed her and after those wild rounds, when she was back in her pastel and pretty room, she would find in her dream life that Spike was with her. The same scene would play out again, but so much more. Her heart would clutch as he worshipped her, soft light kisses on her face, covering every inch of her skin, her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Gradually working his way to her lips, the usual fierce battle of tongues and teeth instead giving way to languishing soul kisses that lasted forever. And so it would go until she would wake, panting, her heart racing and breaking at the same time for what she could never, ever, have with him. Because he was an evil, undead bloodsucking fiend. Because her friends would mock and ridicule her, under the guise of protecting her. Because, while she knew using him was wrong, sometimes she wondered, deep inside, if what was happening between them was beginning to cross the line and become too real. If maybe, just maybe, what she felt was a little more, and if she just gave it half a chance, she'd know for sure. But that was something she couldn't do.

Her birthday came and went, with the abortive failure to set her up with Richard, a nice boy, but one that left her cold and unmoved. She couldn't even bring herself to mildly flirt with him, to turn on the old Buffy charm beyond the usual hostess politeness. Spike lurking in the hallway, trying to seduce her with that horrible reminder of her unfettered anger on his face in the black eye she had given him, had come so close a few times. If it hadn't been for the Tara interruption and the trapped with a horned, sword-wielding, demon thing, he might have persuaded her and she might have given in to something softer, more loving, allowed herself to be adored and cherished by him. After all, everyone deserves to be adored on their birthday, right? But circumstances had not permitted.

After that night, she had avoided him for a few days, as she contemplated what to do. Should she risk opening her heart and letting him end some of the loneliness that was omnipresent these days? Should she let him in? Should she risk feeling more than the exquisite physical sensations he was skilled at wringing from her as they came together? Every time she came close to concluding that life was too short, as she knew from first hand experience, carpe diem, etc., she chickened out, fear of all that could go wrong with such a course of action swamping her into near paralysis.

She couldn't love Spike, couldn't have a legitimate relationship with him, because, because, because...so many reasons she could write books about them. The nagging Good Buffy voice would say, **Remember Angel, remember how badly that turned out?** Pain and heartbreak and angst that made her want to split in two - and that was with the soul. Without, Angelus had brought death and sorrow and nearly the end of the world to her and those she loved. Vampires bad.

Then Shallow Buffy was make a sly comment, like, **But they're so pretty, the line of Aurelius.** Maybe it was a family thing, maybe the demon of that line just had exquisite taste, but Angel and Spike, the dark and the light, were both so beautiful.

Bad Buffy would rear her head to agree and chime in, **Let yourself have one perfect night with him, just one night where you soak up all that love and adoration you've been missing for so long, where you can revel in really feeling more than just the physical. One night won't change anything if you truly don't love him, and to feel again, without reservation, that heady tumble where your heart raced and your stomach lurched and you felt the stirrings, the possibilities of love that would last. One night to play with all of that, then, back to the same old, same old. Because, part of touching the fire is more than the physical burn.**

Buffy's inner voices continued to debate the wisdom of this plan as she finally crawled into bed and feel into a deep sleep.

She knew somehow, instinctively, that this was a dream she was in, but not a Slayer dream thankfully for once, just an ordinary dream, but a very vivid one. She could feel the sunlight shining on her shoulders, and see the vivid greens of the forest she was being ridden through. Suddenly, Buffy was aware that she was clutching someone to keep up right on the horse they were riding. Wait, she was on a horse? Huh, this was a new one. She turned her attention to the man she had such a firm grip on and realized he was wearing some sort of armor or mail. A brief moment of panic washed over Buffy at the thought that this was indeed a Slayer dream and somehow the Knights were back and after Dawn.

Her dream self seemed to have no such fears and wrapped her arms more tightly around the man in front of her.

"Are we close?" Dream Buffy asked.

And the voice that responded, not surprising given her pre-bedtime musings, was the deep British tones of her current paramour.

"We'll be there soon, my lady," Spike responded.

My lady? Was this Spike? He was prone to the pet names, but she couldn't recall ever hearing him her call my lady before. But Dream Buffy must not have found it strange, she simply sighed and clutched him more tightly.

A short while later, they reached a small clearing before the entrance to what looked to be a small cave. Dream Spike slid from the horse's back and turned to face her for the first time. Buffy knew that indeed, despite the armor, the man whose cerulean blue eyes she stared into were her Spike's eyes. Wait, her Spike? Dream Buffy slid from the horse into his outstretched arms and pressed herself against him.

"Lancelot, will we be discovered, is this safe?"

"My lady Guinevere, we are alone and should be free from prying eyes here." Dream Spike paused and gazed down at her. "The king is on the hunt today, we have some time before he and the others return." He pressed a soft kiss on lips and then continued.

"Guinevere, my love, are you afraid? We can return to the castle and no one will be the wiser." He gazed at her softly, and Buffy realized he would abandon this little tryst in a heartbeat if she said the word. "My love, you know I am yours, body and soul, forever. I want to be with you, here, today. But if we leave, it changes nothing. I know we were never meant to be. I know you have a special place and calling. I am but your humble servant and you may do with me as you will."

Dream Buffy blinked and tears threatened to spill.

"Lancelot, are you afraid? The costs are high and you will bear them as much as I, if not more, if we are discovered. I should never have urged you to bring me here. I have no right to ask you to take this risk for a brief moment of pleasure."

Spike caught Dream Buffy's chin in his hands.

"Dearest, no, never, to be with you, to hold you and make love to you, even just this once, is worth the price, any price. Once to keep in my memories, no more."

"Then love me, for I am eternally yours."

The pair kissed more ardently, and Buffy, in that strange disembodied sensation of dreams, could feel the smoothness of her dream lover's lips pressed to hers, the beginning of tears as her dream self clung to this man and found something so intense, so spectacular, she'd risk a kingdom for it. And then she woke up.

Buffy looked around the darkened room. It's 5:00AM, she had a few more hours, but sleep wouldn't come. Maybe the dream was the answer. She needed to feel that kind of emotion that she had channeled in her dream, that incredible passion, to touch the fire again. Maybe the reason she kept running to Spike was because she knew he could give her that kind of flame in spades, in a way no one else could right now. But despite the marathon shagfests they'd had, she hadn't been allowing any emotional spark. Maybe that was the key to making things better and moving past Spike.

Good Buffy prissed up chanting her usual mantra, **Don't go there. Evil undead, no soul, can't be trusted, blah blah blah, don't even think about it.**

Bad Buffy recalled the joy and intense emotions of Buffy as Guinevere in the dream and urged just such a sojourn in the land of Spike love to explore these emotions.

Good Buffy retorted that this would be using him and would be wrong.

And then, out of nowhere, came the wild little thought, **Make it a game.**

Bad Buffy perked up, **A game, a role play, Spike will go for that and you can explore the tricky little emotions in a safe way with no real commitment - because its only a game.**

Good Buffy still seemed troubled, but acknowledged that if Spike knew they were only playing and willingly agreed, they weren't really using him, were they? He'd be a willing participant.

Buffy mused some more as to how to put such a game in motion as the clock continued to tick toward wake up time. She wasn't really up on sex games, or how one broached them with someone you were shagging, but not really speaking with regularly.

She had to admit, before Spike, she'd had what could at best be described as a conventional sex life, aside from the fact that Angel had been a vampire. But even then, their time together had been sweet and slow, appropriately gentle for her first time, at least until he woke up.

Riley, bless his heart, had no imagination in that area and she'd been loathe to rock the boat and ask for something new. If she'd had any clue he was sneaking around to vamp whores after finishing with her, she might have gotten creative, but in retrospect, it wouldn't have been worth the effort. It was far enough in the past for her to acknowledge that she and Riley were never meant to be in a long-term sense. Probably she was never meant to be with anyone in a long term sense, but maybe, for a little while, she could live in a fantasy world and pretend.

The question was, how did one establish the parameters of these games so Spike wouldn't misinterpret things? This wasn't really a sex game, she wasn't going to be asking for bondage etc. But exploring emotions was a whole lot scarier than handcuffs or most of the other kinky things Spike had thrown her way. Could you use safe words to indicate you were feeling too much love?

Should she ask Anya? Of all the Scoobies, she certainly was the most open about sex and relationships, and based on past comments, she and Xander played Shiver Me Timbers and other role playing games on a regular basis. What Buffy wanted to propose to Spike was certainly different than naughty nurse, but maybe if she could bring the subject up, Anya would spill forth tidbits that could be of use - assuming Xander wasn't around to stop her.

Buffy finally relaxed, content with this new plan, just as the alarm went off.

Chapter 4

Buffy managed to crawl out of bed, get Dawn started for school, and do a few rudimentary chores before it neared time for the start of her shift at the Palace. She decided to swing by the Magic Box on her way to see if she could catch Anya for a little chat, at she neatly tucked her work clothes in a duffle.

Just walking in the bright sunshine put a little more spring in her step as she strolled down the street towards her destination. She was positively cheery by the time she walked into the magic shop and was relieved to find it empty of both clientele and Scoobies. **OK, Buffy, perfect timing - this might work.**

How could she get Anya talking on her topic of interest without letting the cat out of the bag about why she wanted the information? Subtlety had never been her strong suit and she doubted today would be the start, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Buffy blew out a breath and approached the counter.

"Hi Anya," she said brightly," how are the wedding plans going?"

**Oh, bad move Buffy, now she'll talk about flowers and seating arrangements all day, divert, divert!! Oh, I know…**

"Anya, I was wondering, as your bridesmaid, do you want to stay at our place the night before the wedding - tradition and all."

"Oh, that's sweet of you to offer Buffy! Are you afraid that Xander and I will copulate before the event and bring bad luck to our marriage?"

**Sex has entered the conversation, that was quick.**

"Well, I know that you and Xander have been, well, not saving yourselves, but don't you think its more romantic to cut back before the actual ceremony? Maybe make the wedding night more special? Hey you could even do a role playing game - you be the blushing virginal bride and he could be the fumbling first-time groom!"

**OK, not subtle at all, but it's out there, lets see if she'll take the bait."

"That's a very clever idea, Buffy - it might add some romance. However, I do not wish Xander to be too fumbling, a girl's wedding night should be filled with many orgasms. But Xander likes the games, I'll suggest that to him." Anya replied seriously.

"So you guys play games as lot?" Buffy cringed slightly when she realized what she'd said. **Oh, great, look like a perve now, Ms. I don't have a man fishing for details of her buddies' sex lives.**

Fortunately, Anya was on one of her favorite subjects, Xander and sex, so the fishing expedition drew some results.

"Oh yes, Xander enjoys games, he gets very excited by them and they result in many happy orgasms for me.

"Um," Buffy tried to look mildly, yet not too weirdly interested. "You know I've never played games like that, Riley wasn't into it - how does they work?"

"Oh Buffy, you'll find a man who will play games with you, you're a very pretty girl, you just need to put yourself out there more. Perhaps you'd like some tips for your next orgasm-friend - maybe then they'll stay longer?" Anya looked at Buffy inquiringly.

Ouch. Buffy wasn't sure Anya realized the slam, though she suspected she did - there was a little glint in the ex-demon's eyes. But she was finally getting where she wanted to go, the down and dirty details on Role-Playing 101. She just wasn't sure this was what she was after for her tentative love tryst with Spike, but as Anya appeared ready to tell all, she'd know soon.

"Well," Anya beamed, "first you need to find about your partner's like, dislikes, turn-ons, etc. That way you'll know how to excite him and he can then reciprocate by pleasing you. For instance, Xander really enjoys my nurse's outfit that is very tight, short and shows much cleavage. The last time I wore it,...."

Buffy vaguely zoned out as Anya gave a slightly ex-rated account of Xander's reaction to the outfit and the resulting sexual acts that resulted. As Anya concluded the story, Buffy delved a little deeper.

"So you just wear an outfit, you aren't really role playing, like being the characters and stuff?"

"Well, not entirely. We have some games that are more complicated. When we play shiver me timbers, I'm the damsel in distress and Xander's the big bad pirate who ravishes me. We both wear costumes, but there's more than that. We don't use our real names - he's Captain Nighthawk, the dread pirate, and I'm Miranda, the beautiful and wealthy daughter of an English lord, who would never look his way. We have a whole story, I got it out of a romance novel I was reading. Miranda grew up on the same estate as Nighthawk, and he was her first love, but as she grew older, she left him to pursue a wealthy husband in London, because he was just a poor peasant lad. So then he becomes this wealthy pirate, but he's actually a secret agent for the Queen, so he's really a good guy and actually very rich, so he kidnaps Miranda to save her from a horrible marriage but he makes her think its for ransom. Buffy?"

Buffy thought she had the idea, actually a little more than she wanted to know, but had one final question.

"So you're like completely the other character while you play, right? How do you end, I mean, besides the sex? How do you know when you're done?"

"Oh well, I know we're starting when Xander gets out the eyepatch, but sometimes we plan to play. So I'll tell Xander before he leaves for work that Miranda needs rescuing that night. Then he can get all worked up all day and I know we'll start as soon as I get home from work. So I'm Miranda when I walk in the door. I know we're stopping if we use our real names. It's fun, perhaps if you go to the Bronze with us, we can find you a guy to play with Buffy." Anya paused, contemplating, "Though it's probably not a first date activity if you're looking for a long-term relationship - it's a lot more fun when you know and trust the person you're playing with."

"OK. Well, thanks, Anya, when my life gets a little saner and not so busy, I may try finding a guy - I envy what you and Xander have."

" Well, thank you, Buffy, and I'll take you up on your offer to stay at your home before the wedding. I think Xander and I may try that game on our honeymoon." Anya quickly dismissed her as a customer and potential source of money entered the shop and Buffy exited the Magic Box, feeling like she had some ideas to work with.

*****************

Buffy, strolled along the street, mulling over the conversation. A few of Anya's comments were a little unnerving - like knowing and trusting the person, and finding out what the guy liked. Well, Spike liked her, she knew that, and he'd do pretty much what ever she told him. And not to be All About Buffy, but this was really sort of her personal reconnect with life therapy. Spike would get the side benefit of being with her, which he clearly enjoyed. That could care of that aspect. And she certainly knew him well enough, he'd been hanging around for years, and she definitely had the knowing in the biblical sense down. But trust, that was a can of worms best not opened. Besides, who needed trust. She was stronger than Spike and he knew it. She could keep him under control. Buffy picked up her pace so she wouldn't be late for work, again, choosing to ignore what she knew Anya had really been talking about.

Instead she focused on the parameters. The key to this whole little scheme was to establish boundaries and keep them. In character, she could let him be loving, out of character, back to the usual. That way Spike wouldn't get ideas that she actually had feelings for him or anything crazy like that.

She needed to concoct an scenario, one that Spike would not be tempted to confuse with real life. She skipped along through various scenarios. She wanted a romantic vibe from the couple she picked - something maybe from literature, or some movie. She pondered some possible pairings.

Romeo and Juliet? She cringed - way too many Angel overtones there. Harry and Sally? (She just loved that movie!) She dismissed it, Spike was unlikely to be able to get into the character of a somewhat neurotic political consultant, or whatever Harry was in that movie. Scarlett and Rhett? Somehow, that one seemed to fit, maybe a little, but where would she find a hoop skirt?

Wait, her dream, that was the answer. She would be Guinievere and he could be Lancelot! Medieval knight, lady of the lake, yadda, yadda. She thought Guinievere was with King Arthur too, maybe, at some point, but she wasn't entirely sure. Oh well, it didn't matter - he was Lancelot in the dream. She wasn't really all that up on those legends, but she suspected Spike was, so she could play off him as they went along. She was pretty sure they were quite the romantic pair. He should love that - being British and all. She giggled, proud that she had figured out an appropriately fantasy based romance for them to play out.

Now, how to bring this up with Spike? Somehow a letter, tucked in his crypt door, seemed appropriate to start the game. That would be a nice touch. She'd outline the little scenario along with an invitation and see where it went. She could always run away if it looked as thought he wasn't going to play by the rules. She had become something of an expert at that in the recent past.

Buffy bounced excitedly, she had found the answer. She could revel in his love, connect with some deeper emotions and feel alive again, but he'd be fine, because he'd know it was all a game. Now, she needed to work on her little letter.

Chapter 5

Spike sensed something moving outside the crypt as he stared at the latest episode of Passions. It was so fleeting that he paid it little mind until the commercial break came on. Wearily, he opened the door and found a small pale cream envelope laying on his doorstep, what appeared to be an invitation of sorts. He threw his blanket over is head and swiftly snatched the packet off his doorstep, then retreated into the cool confines of the crypt to peruse it.

He recognized the handwriting, it was Buffy's less than perfect penmanship. Her scent wafted from the paper towards him, and he supposed her sending him little letters in the middle of the day could only be a good sign. He hadn't seem her since her birthday, recognizing she needed some time with the Bit, but he was itching to hold her cradled against him again, to feel her raw and elemental desires reaching out for his cold flesh.

He remembered that conversation with Riley, what seemed a lifetime ago now, where he envied his place in her bed. "Sometimes I envy you so much it chokes me. And then sometimes I think I've got the better deal. To be that close to her and not have her... To be all alone even when you're holding her, feeling her, feeling her beneath you, surrounding you, the scent of -- no, you've got the better deal."

Now that he was the one in that position, he still believed he'd been right. He would still would rather be able to touch her than never be with her, but there were times when it almost wasn't enough. Maybe one day, it would be more with her. But he was truly her willing slave and what Buffy wanted, he would give her, for as long as she wanted it.

He sighed as he slid out what appeared to be two letters. The first one was clearly labeled, READ ME FIRST, and he opened the page, scanning quickly.

------------------------

Spike,

I want to try something new. I want to play a game with you. If you agree, here are the ground rules.

1. The game world is just that, a fantasy. Whatever we may do or say in it is part of the game and we don't bring it up when we aren't playing

.

2. We have to stay in character. I have a scenario I want to play. When we finish this game, if we both are pleased, we may consider others and you may help choose the next game.

3. We will signify the start of the game by using our characters names. When the game concludes, or one of us no longer wishes to play, we will revert to our actual names.

4. This game will only be played at your crypt, we will not play in other locations, especially my house.

If you want to play with me, meet me outside the Armstrong crypt Friday night at midnight and we will proceed from there. My scenario is on the 2nd sheet of paper.

Buffy

------------------------

Spike started at the sheet of paper for a long, long time. His emotions swirled as he considered the implications of this. Buffy wanted to play games? More than they were already?

He wasn't stupid. He knew, deep down, that what they had wasn't mutual and that she was using him. But, this, this was truly unexpected. She was asking to play a game with very carefully drawn parameters that weren't to be crossed. Why?

He doubted she was looking to play Mistress of Pain with him - they already made each other hurt in all the right places. No, she wanted something they hadn't done, but that she was afraid of doing, afraid of getting out of control.

Spike stared at the page, reading it through again. If it didn't seems to be simply one of his wildest fantasies come true, he'd think she wanted a game were they played at being in love. If that was the case, this was his chance.

Spike's inner poet rejoiced at the prospect of wooing his lady and showing her the depths of his love. Maybe this was just what he needed. If she let him truly make love to her in this little game, maybe he could defrost that heart which he sometimes thought must be so cold it would never unthaw. She had loved Angel. She was capable of loving a vampire. Maybe she would learn to love him if he could only be tender and sweet with her, as he so often wanted to be.

**Oh Buffy, I'm gonna play your game, and I'm gonna win.** he thought, inwardly smirking. She had to be softening to him if she was proposing such steps. He quickly ripped open the second paper to see exactly what her little role play was going to be. He was actually surprised at what he found.

------------------------------

I'll be Guinievere and you'll be Lancelot. You'll rescue me from a fiery dragon and then we'll flee to a cave where we wait for a horrible storm to pass while you woo me. See you Friday.

------------------------------

Spike stared at the paper for a long minute. Buffy was not a particularly creative type sometimes and clearly knew squat about Arthurian legends. Had probably caught that bloody First Knight movie on cable and run with it or something.

He was slightly disturbed in her character choices. She wanted to play a queen who betrayed her husband and brought down Camelot with her infidelity and by some legends was quite the bitch to Lancelot, despite his adoration. Then again, maybe she was on to something.

Their relationship was as hidden as an adulterous relationship would be despite the lack of significant others on both their parts. He knew she wasn't talking to the Scoobies about their little romps and she had forbidden him to as well. And she certainly had the power in her little world, which would be undermined amongst her group if she came out, so to speak, to her friends about shacking up with the undead again.

She had unwittingly nailed him with Lancelot as well he feared. He was eternally her champion, her willing slave and most certainly love's bitch. Spike knew that for all his posturing with her, he would take whatever crumbs he could from his lady's hand. He would betray the world if called upon for Buffy, and right or wrong, he'd follow her anywhere.

He just hoped her character choices didn't doom his plans, because unlike Lancelot, he wanted to remain with his Guinievere for the long haul and eventually be more than a dark, dirty little secret. And this little scenario might just give him the chance he needed.

Now how to properly prepare the setting and sweep little Miss Buffy/Guinievere off her feet?

Everything needed to be perfect and as distraction free as possible. He didn't want slaying, work, responsibilities to interfere if possible. There wasn't much he could do about the last two, but he could certainly do an early patrol and keep her from having to dust any new risers. Might do a few turns around town before midnight, take care of the early weekend rabble rousers as well. He chortled inwardly, it wouldn't quite be a dragon, but he supposed quieting the demon population of Sunnydale should do for his chivalrous rescue.

Next, the setting. So she wanted to be trapped in a cave for their little scene where he would "woo" her. He supposed she was thinking of the lower part of his crypt, for the little seduction scene. She'd been somewhat admiring of the changes he'd made when she had last visited.

He'd have to tidy up a bit, make sure he had fresh sheets. They were definitely going to make it to the bed this time. He needed to set up some candles, get a nice romantic glow going down there.

Spike's long still heart almost wanted to beat again at the possibilities. He could make her love him if she'd give him half a chance, and this was the starting point. Now, where was the volume of Tennyson, he knew he had it somewhere.

Chapter 6

It was finally Friday. As Buffy staggered out of bed to begin her morning routine and attempts to prod Dawn awake, she bumped into Willow in the hallway.

"Hey, Willow, got an early class today?" Buffy knew that she probably should already have a clue, but she just couldn't remember when Willow was coming and going these days. She needed to more supportive, what with the whole magical addiction, etc. She sighed and mentally added item #178 on list of things to do - be more SupportoGirl! with best friend.

"Um, Willow, what are you doing this weekend? Maybe we could hang out tomorrow night?"

"Oh, thanks Buffy, that would be good, but I can't this weekend." Willow replied.

"Oh, do you have a date? Are you seeing Tara?" Buffy hoped that Willow and Tara were finally reconnecting, there had been definite sparks at the party.

"I wish. No, I got some bills from college and I need to go and spend a weekend with the parents, bond, get some money to pay tuition and stuff." Willow replied.

"When will you be back?" Buffy asked, the seeds of an idea running though her head even as she swallowed some frustration at Willow's ready source of funds compared to her own sad stream of income from flipping burgers. Item #179 was added to the list- find a new job.

"Probably Sunday night, I figure a complete weekend of family togetherness will do it and then they'll forget I exist again for a while. Thanks for the offer though, we should do a movie night or something soon. Anyway, I'm going to go ahead and shower real quick before Dawn gets up." Willow entered the bathroom and shut the door.

Buffy continued to Dawn's room and knocked lightly, then harder.

"Dawnie, get up. You know you can't be late for school again. Xander will be here soon - move it."

No sound, so Buffy opened the door and marched over to the pile of covers on the bed. "Come on Dawn - you have until 5 or I'm taking more aggressive action."

Dawn peeked her head out of the covers and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I'm getting up."

Buffy started to leave, when Dawn stopped her.

"Buffy, um, I got a B+ on my history test yesterday."

Buffy turned. "That's great Dawn, I knew you could get your grades up if you worked a little harder."

Dawn smiled, knowing she had scored some points.

"Well, since I'm doing so much better, canIspendtheweekendwithKaren'sfamily?"

"What? Slow it down, Dawn."

"Can I spend the weekend with Karen's family at their lake house? It's sounds really cool and she invited me to come and you can call her mother and everything. I couldn't ask you last night because you worked late and then patrolled."

Buffy paused. "Who is going? How long will you be gone? Will you do you homework for the weekend if I say yes?"

Dawn knew she was close to victory. "Her mom, dad, aunt, uncle, Karen and her two cousins, who are twins, the same age as us. They go a lot on weekends and fish and swim when it's not too cold. Buffy, it sounds great and they're really nice people, not demony at all. Please let me go. They want to leave this afternoon and we'll be back on Sunday afternoon. And I promise to do all my homework."

Buffy had to admit, the situation sounded Ok and a reward for bringing up her grades would be a good positive reinforcement - hey maybe she had learned something in the Psych class after all - go Pavlov!. She knew she should keep Dawn grounded for, well probably for years for the shoplifting, but she had returned the items and started to work off her debts.

"Tell you what, leave me the number and I'll call Karen's mom this morning. Assuming it all checks out, you can go - but remember - don't use this as an excuse to let the grades slip. The last thing we need is Social Services breathing down our back again. I have to work tonight, so if I don't see you before you leave, have a good trip and be polite."

Dawn leaped from the bed and flung her arms around Buffy. "Yeah, thanks, you're the best!"

As Dawn began pounding on the bathroom door for Willow to hurry up, Buffy realized what this meant. She had the entire weekend free. She could be gone all night, heck, all weekend even, and no one would be the wiser. She grinned as she hurried to call Karen's mom and make sure the invitation was legitimate.

******************

Buffy stared at the time clock in the corner, listening to the excruciatingly slow ticks as she waited impatiently for her shift to end. At least she didn't have to close tonight - she'd have been here forever and she had big plans for the weekend. She started to drift off again into the daydreams of Spike lovin' she'd been toying with all day only to be rudely snapped back to attention by a very annoying gaggle of teens wanting a post-movie snack.

At last 11:00PM arrived. Buffy eagerly finished her shift at the Doublemeat and raced home to change. She had to move quickly to make it to the designated rendezvous point by 12:00PM and she wanted to pack a bag for their little game, assuming Spike had accepted his role. And she doubted he'd turn her down.

What he didn't know was that she intended to stay this time, for the whole weekend. She had no shifts this weekend, and Dawn and Willow wouldn't be around to check up on her suspicious absences and failure to come home. She hummed as she hastily showered and scrubbed away the eau de Doublemeat, then quickly got out and began her beauty preparations.

She had to admit, she was liking this plan, a lot. When was the last time she had gotten dressed up for a date? She blow-dried her hair and set it quickly with curlers. At times like these she wished she hadn't cut her hair, but she did have some bouncy waves in it, which was nice.

She applied her makeup, then delved in her closet for the long, high-waisted white sundress she knew was in the back. She hadn't worn it in years, and it was probably too nippy outside, but she felt the need to look the part somehow and this was the closest thing she had. So she laid it out, along with some extra clothes to change into, and her one truly beautiful floor length negligee.

She'd gotten it sometime over that summer when she had been dating Riley, thinking they'd have a chance to maybe have a long weekend and she could surprise him. But the time had never come, and she had pushed the long champagne colored silk and lace confection to the back of her drawer. It wasn't overtly sexy, but very romantic and honeymoonish.

Buffy paused and sat down on her bed. Did she know what she was doing here? She was planning to play a game with her sex-toy, her vamp that she had beaten nearly to a pulp a few weeks before. And yet she was packing as though this were a romantic getaway with a man she loved. The dichotomy was fairly glaring, but rather than become introspective, Bad Buffy ordered an end to such contemplation and noted the time, 11:33 PM.

**It's OK, Buffy's not having a weekend with Spike, Guinevere is engaging in a romantic tryst with her Lancelot. It's fine, this will be good. I need the break and it's all a game, it's not real.**

Back to the packing. Undies? To wear or not to wear? They frequently ended up damaged, but Spike, her Lancelot, would be wooing her tonight, so perhaps something romantic? She dug in her drawer and found the perfect set, a lovely pale pink Victoria's Secret set she had treated herself to for her birthday. OK, clothes, check, stakes, check, reality, out the window. **I am Guinevere - off to meet my knight in shining armor.** Buffy pulled on her jacket and locked the door as she departed for the Restfield Cemetery.

**************

Spike looked around the crypt. He had cleaned and swept, added candles in strategic locations and placed a few flowers around the upper crypt - just to set the mood. He had made a quick trip to the grocers after the sun set and purchased bottled water and other beverages, and some snack food, just in case she decided to stay for a while. If things went like he planned, she wouldn't leap up and run out, virtue fluttering, when she was done shagging him tonight.

He'd stocked up on his blood supply and purchased a bottle of wine, remembering her distaste and bad luck with his hard liquor in the past. Spike wasn't sure he trusted Buffy with alcohol, past experience didn't bode well, but maybe a little would loosen her up.

Patrol had been fairly uneventful, so he anticipated no problems requiring the Slayer's attention to anything other than her personal demon, him, that night. He'd done a quick sweep of the local hot spots and shut down any trouble for the evening.

But the downstairs, that was his crowning glory. He had cleared away all the talismans of death, no coffins or skulls could be seen, and instead a rose petal covered bed waited in the center of the room. He worried that she might be cold, given the drafts that sometimes swept through the lower half of his crypt, so he'd added a few extra blankets under the crimson spread. The carpets she had admired earlier were strategically scattered so her delicate foot would never have to touch the cold floor of the crypt. Candles surrounded the bed and other available surfaces to provide a subtle glow. All told, he felt he'd created quite the scene for a romantic seduction.

Finally, he picked up the crown of flowers he had made, straightened his black silk shirt, with just a button or too undone, and prepared to meet his lady at the stroke of midnight. He looked around the crypt one last time. **William, my boy, you really are a frightful git, but if she wants a Lancelot, that's what I'll be.** With that, he took the crown and strode out of the crypt to meet Buffy.

Chapter 7

Spike arrived at the Anderson crypt first and sat on the bench outside, observing the moonlit sky and fingering the delicate flowers in his hands. He detected a small noise and turned, seeing Buffy coming towards him, a vision in something long and white as she floating across the graveyard, her golden hair under the moonlight a counterpoint to the darkness. Then suddenly, a small movement off to her right caught his attention. A vampire had struggled out of its grave and was now striding towards the Slayer.

"Well, it has sharp teeth, suppose it will do for a dragon," Spike muttered.

"My lady," he called, watching as Buffy turned to him and smiled.

Momentarily he was distracted by the brightness of that smile, but quickly jumped up as he realized he needed to save her - she wasn't the slayer tonight - he was her knight and protector. He streaked past her and with a few swift blows dispatched the vampire into a cloud of dust. He turned to find Buffy behind him, stake in hand, and quickly knelt at her feet.

"My lady Guinevere."

"My brave Sir Lancelot," she replied, suddenly very happy he had decided to play.

He looked up at her with a smile of pure happiness that Buffy wasn't sure she had ever seen the like of which split Spike's face. The game had begun.

Spike rose to his feet and drew his Slayer across the grass to the crown of flowers which waited on the bench.

"Guinevere, I brought you this small token of my affection." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in and to gauge her reaction.

"Thank you, they're beautiful" she responded, a little amazed at his courtly manner. Was this the same snarky Spike who hustled pool and tormented Xander?

He placed the crown of flowers on her curls, then slid his hands down her face, cupping her chin as he slowly leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. He stepped back, offered her his arm, took her bag and led her back to his crypt.

Buffy's heart raced a little as she felt the tingles from the soft kiss and those few light touches. She knew it was ridiculous to react this way. Granted, she hadn't seen him in over a week, and hadn't been with him for nearly two, and she'd gotten a little use to the regular lovin', ...er, sexcapades Spike was so eager to engage in. But he'd done it! He was following her scenario, complete to slaying a demon and only calling her Guinevere, not Buffy.

And the flowers! She'd received flowers before, Riley was good about the traditional relationship trappings, and even Angel in a twisted parody of love had given her roses on Valentine's. But this charming little crown Spike had placed on her head was both unique and beautiful. Buffy sighed contentedly as they strolled along in a silence unusual to both of them, each loathe to disrupt the moment. This had potential to be a wonderful weekend.

******************

Spike opened the crypt door and ushered her in to be seated on the couch.

"Would my lady care for a drink?"

"Um, what do you have, Sir Lancelot?" She giggled internally, she really felt a little silly calling him that.

He rattled off a few sodas, juices and water, then casually suggested he also had some wine. Buffy nodded to the final suggestion, then began slowly moving around the crypt.

"I like what you've done with your castle," she commented as he handed her the small glass of wine.

"Thank you luv, would you like the grand tour? I have a cave in the basement." He quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly and she knew he was referring to her note.

"Maybe in a little bit, I'd like to finish my drink."

He nodded and pulled her slowly back to the sofa, seating her beside him. Buffy slowly sipped the wine, feeling its warmth as it hit her stomach and she relaxed her head back against the sofa. Slowly, Spike reached out for her empty hand and laid it in his, tracing small, indistinct patterns in her palm. Buffy shivered slightly, enjoying the tiny point of contact that hinted at things to come. She closed her eyes and focused on the tingling sensations that had begun to radiate from his touch.

"So Lady Guinievere, tell me about your day." Spike leaned back beside Buffy, enjoying the chance to just be with her. It had been quite a while since they'd actually sat and talked, like they had after she had first returned. He'd mostly listened then and he was perfectly content to do so now. He'd enjoyed hearing about what Nibblet was up to, the various ups and downs of her buddies and the joys and tribulations, small and large, that made up her life.

And suddenly, Buffy felt like talking again. She had missed this chance to just chat about her problems with someone who didn't really offer solutions, just listened and provided comfort. She began to spill about her annoying job and money concerns, Willow's issues, the upcoming wedding that appeared to be driving the bride and groom nuts and Dawn's little problem with the light fingers.

As she continued to ramble, Spike said very little, just appropriate murmurs now and then to let her know he was still listening. He never loosened his hold on her hand, just continued to stroke up and down her palm, lulling her. She found herself inching closer until she was tucked against him, leaning into his shoulder. She gradually grew quiet, feeling like a burden had been lifted after getting some of her anger and resentment at the friends and family she loved. They sat that way for more than a few minutes, both deep in thought and the pleasure of each other's company, and neither seemed inclined to end the moment. Buffy finally broke the spell and looked up to find his fathomless blue eyes staring down into hers.

"I think I'd like to see that cave now," she murmured.

Smiling, he rose from the sofa, still holding her hand and drew her towards the stairs, directing her to go first. Spike followed Buffy as she descended into the wonderland of muted light and color below. She looked around in awe, taking in the setting of a romantic, slightly gothic, boudoir and realized he'd done all of this for her.

She was distracted from the setting as she felt Spike approach behind her and shivered slightly at his touch when he slowly place his hands on her shoulders, kneading just slightly. A girl could definitely get use to this. She tried to remember the problem with letting Spike coddle her and came up blank at the moment.

"Ummmm, that feels wonderful after a hard days work, um..., manning the kitchen at my castle," she improvised.

"Well pet, may I have the honor?" He guided her to the bed and directed her to lie across it on her stomach. Buffy had thought she was fairly unwound upstairs snuggled on the sofa, but began to wonder if she might become a pile of goo from all these seductive little touches. He sat on the edge as he began to smooth his hands over her bare shoulders. His fingers glided ever so lightly over her exposed skin, to the edges of the dress, and then back again, in a sliding motion that was hypnotic. He was barely touching her, but she felt so relaxed and languid.

"My lady, do I have your permission to continue?"

**Permission to continue, wow, Spike was taking this full tilt.**

"Proceed my faithful knight," Buffy murmured, feeling ready to purr. She generally wasn't big on being so passive, but this was just too good to stop.

Slowly she felt him reach for the zipper at the back of her dress and draw it down to her waist, then carefully flick open the clasp which fastened her bra. He slid the straps of the dress off her shoulders and then proceeded to massage every inch of her back in long smooth strokes. Buffy was initially soothed by the motions of his hands and the cool contact of skin on hers. But as he continued, gradually growing bolder with his strokes and moving further down her body and round her sides, just barely grazing the edges of her breasts still encased in the loosened bra, she felt her arousal begin to grow.

She made little contented murmurs, urging him to continue his explorations as he moved closer, purring himself as he nuzzled the back of her neck. Slowly he used his blunt teeth to nip lightly at her shoulders and back, moving down her body. He stopped to kiss and lick the small of her back, which he seemed particularly fascinated with. The tingles and buzz of the slayer warning system seemed muted, yet provided additional frissions of sensation from the sparks that seemed to ripple beneath her skin from the contact with his lips, tongue and teeth.

Buffy wondered if minutes or hours had passed in the exploration of what she had never before considered such an erogenous part of her body until Spike finally rolled her over and began to slide the dress from her arms. She was very turned on, but she didn't feel the urgency to rush things she had felt so often in the past with Spike. The closest thing she could compare this to was the first time with Angel, and the fear and newness of that event had prevented the contented euphoria that seemed to overwhelm her now.

Spike looked into her unfocused and gorgeous hazel eyes that for once were returning his gaze. So often during sex she looked away or closed her eyes, blocking him out, wanting his body but nothing more. He was always afraid at those moments that she was somehow substituting him for Angel, using his cold body in place of the one she could never have. He hated that feeling, that comparison that he had experienced first with Dru and now with her. But tonight was different. He seemed to have reached something inside her, for the look in her eyes was soft and she held his gaze, seeming to really see him, Spike, as he slipped the dress down to her waist.

Her breasts remained covered in the pale pink silk she had selected and Spike recognized that she had made some effort in her appearance before coming to him. He breathed in the beautiful sweet scent that was uniquely hers, her essence, and bent his head to worship. Buffy thrusts her breasts upward, eager for the sensations she knew he would bring, feeling her nipples harden from the cool air and her growing state of arousal, but Spike ignored the plea and began again to nuzzle her face and neck, as he kissed and nibbled at her ear, then her cheek, finally reaching her lips.

Buffy gasped against him, as his tongue slid across her lower lip, seeking entrance into her hot mouth. She welcomed the intrusion and joined the dance of tongues as the kiss deepened. Much like their fights, the kiss seemed to have been choreographed by a master. There was no awkwardness, no bumping of noses or nibbles that were too harsh. Instead, the mating dance between their lips became one of the most erotic experiences Buffy thought she had ever had, as Spike rubbed his silk-covered chest against her sensitized nipples and lightly worked his thigh between hers. He eased back occasionally, letting her draw quick gasps of air, but the kiss continued as his tongue stroked and teased her.

When he finally pulled back and she opened her eyes, he was simply staring at her face, his body still pressing her lightly into the mattress, but not moving. For once, Buffy hesitated to break the spell and demand action, and instead let herself drown in those blue pools that had darkened considerably as he stared at her. One final lingering kiss was bestowed and then Spike began a slow progression down her body.

He seemed fascinated by the silk of her lingerie as he left the cups laying across her breasts and stroked her nipples softly through the material, rolling them in his fingers to induce pleasure just short of pain, then releasing the stiff peaks to softly stroke them again. She could feel the wetness seeping between her legs as he continued to ever so slightly apply pressure at the apex of her thighs with the leg he had wedged between hers, but he seemed to not want to be deterred from his enjoyment of her breasts, even as she wiggled against him, seeking friction to ease the ache she knew he could easily remedy. She had to admit, something about the play of silk between his flesh and hers heightened the sensations as his fingers continued to dance across her peaks, and she wondered if she could cum just from this exquisite and focused stimulation.

She began to think she might soon find out, as he added his talented tongue to the mix. Leaving her breasts draped in the silk, he licked and sucked her mounds, swirling his wet tongue around and around the now damp fabric. She gasped as he drew one nipple into his cool mouth and lightly bit the erect bud, then turned to give similar attention to her other aching breast. Buffy threaded her fingers through his hair and clutched him to her as she softly moaned. He stopped and raised his head at the sound, flashing her that wicked Spike grin that softened into the dazzling look she had begun to mentally tag as William, because he was at his must vulnerable and human when he looked at her that way. Which was not very often.

He briefly snared her lips for another sensuous kiss, taking his time, then sliding down to her neck, licking her pulse points as he pulled the bra away. **Oh my, he's not done yet.** He'd never been so quiet or so single-minded in extended foreplay before in their encounters, usually his hands were everywhere at once, driving her to the frenzy she was equally urging him towards, mouthing little nasties that got her more hot and bothered than she liked to admit.

As his lips closed around her now bare nipple once again and his fingers lightly caressed her other breast, she shuddered at the sensations he was drawing out of her. This was the slowest buildup they'd ever had, yet she was almost afraid of reaching the climax, because she wanted this moment to last, teetering on the edge of heaven.

He gave each breast one last long lick with the flat of his tongue that went straight to her core, then shimmied down her belly, taking the dress that she just now realized was still caught at her waist with him as he slowly knelt in the floor by the bed. She felt a flush sweep over her entire body as he descended and she resisted the urge to protest as she lost contact with his body.

Buffy raised up on her elbows, wanting to see his next move as he slowly pulled the dress away and carefully laid it across a nearby chair. The candles had begun to burn low and he watched her face as he began to blow them out, one by one throughout the crypt. She continued to watch him, feeling the cool air blow across her heated flesh as he reached the next to the last candle and extinguished it. Now, one solitary light remained, just enough of a low glow to barely make out his features as he returned to the bed.

He stood before her and their eyes locked as he slowly unbuttoned and slid the shirt from his shoulders. His disrobing had something of the element of a strip tease to it, Buffy thought, as she noted his coy flashes of skin as he moved down each button and the subtle arching of one brow as he caught her hitch of breath when his abs came into view. But the overall feeling was far more intimate then a burlesque show. He turned and laid the garment next to her dress.

She stared at the contrast of color, the white of her dress compared to the black silk of his shirt, and wondered if her life had even been that black and white. If so, it had long ago faded to something far more gray than she felt capable of understanding. She sighed as she looked at the beautiful man before her who had already taken so many pains to make this a memorable evening and made up her mind to return the favor to him. For the first time since he'd asked her permission to begin, she broke the silence they seemed to be observing.

"Sir Lancelot?" she breathed.

"Yes, my Guinievere?" Spike returned to the bed, lying on his side and staring at his love laid out in all her glory. The tiny glow of the one remaining candle danced across her golden shoulders and he found his mouth began to water as he stared at her luscious breasts, now slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, rosy and ripe.

"May I touch you now?"

Spike was jerked from his focus on her pouting nipples as he looked into her eyes, surprised by her request. She often liked to be in control during their encounters, but she rarely if ever asked permission, she simply seized and took and wrung her pleasure from him, and he received in the process. So the gentle request and prospect of her lips softly wandering across his skin as he lay beside her on the bed were almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"My heart, you may do with me what you will," he replied.

Buffy looked at the feast before her, a study in white and black, light and shadow, as he lay next to her clad only in his jeans. Where to start to bring him the kind of pleasure he'd been showering her with? She mimicked some of his earlier moves, beginning with an exploration of his face, stroking his high cheekbones, then running her fingers into his soft hair as she nibbled gently at his ear lobe. She pulled back to enjoy the rumpled curls she had disrupted and then slid her fingers to lightly caress his neck, a zone of particular sensitivity for him. She lingered there briefly, kneeling beside him, connected by only the briefest of touches, watching as his eyes flashed from yellow to blue as she fondled his scar. Satisfied with her next move, she slid down further, and brought his arms over his head, holding them in place as she curled against his chest, clad only in the wisp of pale pink silk that seemed to suit her skin in the flickering candle light.

He permitted her hold, as she began to work in earnest on his neck, first licking intently, then lightly biting at the scar he would always bear. She had discovered how sensitive this area was to him long before, and frequently would score it with her nails or nip it in passing, giving him little jolts of sensation at the height of ecstasy, but she had never spent so much time there or so faithfully mimicked the bite that granted him immortality.

She began to bite harder, punctuated by lavings from her hot tongue, never quite enough to draw blood, but enough to send bolts of pleasure racing though him and hardening his already erect member to the point of near pain in the confining jeans. He tried to control his moan, but he couldn't and she slowly lifted her head from his neck and gave him a Cheshire Cat grin at wringing this acknowledgment of pleasure from him. He pursed his lips and she returned to kiss him. Spike realized he had lost the plot somewhere along the way, but coherent thought seemed to elude him as she began to slither down his body again

He arched into her touch as she caressed his chest, lightly teasing his nipples, then suddenly she stopped, burrowing around in the bedding until she retrieved her discarded bra. Slowly she worked the silk across him, caressing him with the soft fabric, remembering the pleasure she had felt at the texture of the silk. He felt his erection grow beyond what he had imagined possible and knew he wasn't going to last with this kind of attention from Buffy. He could control himself when he was directing the action, working her arousal higher and higher, but now the tables had turned, and he wasn't sure he could draw this out as he wanted to. He figured at most he had this one night to indulge in truly making love to the queen of his heart and he didn't want to be distracted from that goal, no matter how attractive the inducement.

But then he realized she has reached his jeans. She carefully popped the button as she gently slid her hand over his throbbing cock. She unzipped his pants, and then he felt her hand, still covered in the silk, slide inside and draw him out, stroking him. One hand fastened at the base of his penis, sliding the silky material against his hard flesh as she began to stroke upwards in rhythmic strokes. The other wrapped around his tip, her fingers smoothing the head and teasingly dipping inside his slit, catching a small drop of moisture that rolled onto her fingertip. He watched as she lifted the drop and licked it from her finger, appearing to savor the taste as she returned her hand to tease him further.

Spike groaned again. He wasn't going to last, he could think of nothing which could distract him from her warm hands and focused gazes. He had to return the focus to her.

"My lady," he whispered and she turned her head from her rapt observation of his member which continued to twist and jump in her hot hand.

"Let me worship you," he breathed, "please my love, let me make you soar. Come here to me baby, I'll make you feel so good."

Buffy continued to look at Spike inscrutably, then smiled that grin again. Suddenly, without warning, she plunged him into her wet mouth. Spike felt his eyes roll back into his head and tried to focus on football, memories of Harmony nagging, the thought of Giles' threatening to stake him, anything to dissuade the impending rush he felt as he watch her lips moving up and down on his shaft. He stared at the enticing view of her crooked and crushed crown he had placed on her head that now slipped with every bob of her head.

"Love, no, please, wait." he begged. "Baby, come here, let me touch you," Spike pleaded, attempting to capture her and pull her up beside him. She alluded him and slid to the floor between his knees.

"No, baby, I'm going to touch you, and you are going to cum so hard." She flashed her wicked grin, then returned to her task with a single minded devotion that sent every other thought fleeing from Spike's mind. She continued to lick and suck him in even deeper, his tip brushing the back of her throat as she relaxed to take him in further. She stroked her silk-covered hand over his balls with just enough pressure to lure him to climax. Spike felt the inevitable pull of his release overtake him and he gave in as she drank him down. She licked him lightly and gave one final soft kiss to the tip of his penis before rising from the floor. Spike wasn't sure he still had any thoughts at all as he lay back, basking in the afterglow for a moment.

She crawled up beside him and snuggled against the needlessly panting vampire. As he slowed his breathing, she heard the beginnings of the low rumble of a purr she only heard when he was especially content. Her big kitty. She smiled against Spike's chest, pleased at her success, but clearly seeking further affirmation.

"Did I please you, my faithful knight?" she asked.

Spike could only nod and then turned, capturing her lips in a kiss as he tasted his salt in her mouth. It was his turn to feast on her and he wasted no time, softly stroking her breasts as the kiss deepened. He was certain she was ready for him, that he could slide into her now with no resistance. Clearly her attention to him had added to her excitement. Nonetheless, he wanted the chance to worship between his queen's thighs and send her into ecstasy a few times before he slid inside her beautiful body.

He slid his hand down, teasing the edge of her silk panties which were now drenched. Her stomach muscles quivered as he slid his fingers under and then out again, each time dipping a little further. He slowly worked the scrap down, as he continued to kiss her passionately, then slid further and knelt between her legs as he pulled them completely off.

For the first time that night, Buffy was entirely naked before him and she felt a slight blush at his worshipful gaze, despite the fact he was quite familiar with her body. He simply stared at her as she lay on the bed, his long, clever hands massaging her feet as he slowly parted her legs and slid his hands up past her calf, up past her knee, up to her inner thighs as her opened her completely to him. Buffy expected another long, teasing, nibbling, expedition until she begged for mercy.

But he had grown impatient for her taste and she inhaled sharply as his face was immediately buried between her legs, to her delight. He started with long broad licks that hit her sensitized nerve endings and made her quiver even more. He began to speak finally, murmurs against her flesh, as his tongue continued to explore. She couldn't understand the words, if there were any at all, but the vibrations shivered through her as his tongue entered her and his fingers found her clit, gently rubbing.

The pressure was light, not quite enough, until he switched and his long, agile fingers stroked her inside as his tongue sucked and laved the sensitive nerves of her sweet spot. She felt the orgasm that had been building from the first kiss against her forehead begin to swell and she almost, almost, screamed his name as she came, but stopped just in time. He lay his head against her thigh and softly blew air against her sensitive flesh, then began the process again. Buffy was already so strung out that the second orgasm ripped through her in a flash, but he refused to give her any time and began to work her again. Buffy felt as though every nerve ending was on fire and was sobbing by the time she crested into her third, and he slid the tip of his cock against her opening.

"Love, open your eyes," he said, and she found herself unable to resist the command.

Buffy couldn't help herself, this was beyond the night they brought the house down, beyond the handcuffs and raw fucking that had consumed them in the last few weeks. She locked onto his eyes and felt like she was seeing his heart. He kept his eyes locked to hers as he clasped their hands together and slid, inch by inch, into her.

It was exquisite and she wanted to look away, to shield herself from what she saw in his depths. And then he started to speak. He told her that he loved Guinevere, that she was his heart, his soul, his muse and that he would be hers eternally. The words fell from his lips as he levered himself in and out of her warm depths ever so slowly, with each thrust, he whispered his love and devotion.

He played by the rules she'd set up. He never called her Buffy, but she could see it in his eyes. And suddenly, lying under him, clinched together so intimately and tenderly, she felt something started to crack inside. The shell around her heart that every man in her life had contributed to began to shatter and the feelings she had suppressed for longer than she cared to analyze started to pour out of her lips, almost uncontrollably, as he continued making love to her with strong sure thrusts.

She told him how much his sacrifices had meant to her and how she knew he would sacrifice his kingdom for her and how she admired his acts of chivalry. Her voice was shaky and she found herself wondering if he even knew what she was saying, as her revelations were punctuated by sighs and gasps as rolled his hips against hers in slow, steady pace.

Her fingers clutched at his back and she pulled him tighter, watching the swirling depths of his eyes as he took in her declarations of praise. And then, as she feel their tempo increase and the impending rush of orgasm building, she found herself continuing as she told him how she loved that he'd never left her and that he listened to her and didn't judge her, just told her like it was. Buffy almost felt as though she was separate from this part of her that was babbling these wild things, until she realized, deep inside, that they were true. The good in Spike, the part that had done all of those things for her, wasn't someone evil. That part of him, the Lancelot part, was someone she wanted and needed in her life.

And so, as the crescendo hit and they peaked together, clutching and shivering and crying, she whispered, softly, but not too softly, "I love you, Lancelot." And realized that, at that moment, she meant it.

His eyes searched hers for something for a long moment as the aftershocks rolled though them and then he gave her the William look and kissed her very softly.

"I love you too, Guinevere."

No further words were exchanged as they wrapped around each other so tightly, she didn't know where she began and where he ended. The emotional outpouring caught up with them both, and Spike and Buffy drifted into sleep.

Continue...