Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

King of Hearts	By : charlemagne4ever Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 7197 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
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 fa�ades 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 ththedthedral, 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, ClauVaynVayne, 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 s fas 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 tim 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 worryffy.ffy. 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."

Heled led 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 neveve."ve."

"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...
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

King of Hearts