AN: Reviews are the key to my writing.. both positive and constructive!

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London, England 1855

Joyce Summers wanted to wring the butler's neck. "What do you mean, he won't see me? I'm his cousin!"

The butler smiled sadly. "His Highness hasn't seen anyone since he has left Russia. He has no will to live."

Joyce chewed her lower lip. "Igor, tell me the truth... how badly is my cousin hurt?"

Igor ushered her in. "Please, come in, your Highness. I don't think this is a conversation that one has on a door step." Joyce murmured her thanks as the door closed behind her. After he took her cloak and bonnet, she turned to him expectantly. "Would you like some tea, your grace?"

Joyce shook her head. "No, thank you, Igor. I just need to know how William fairs. Did they hurt him terribly?"

Igor nodded. "Yes your Highness."

Joyce grimaced. "Poor William. Was he beaten? Whipped?"

"A bit of both, your grace. He won't let any of us tend to his wounds. I think he would rather die in exile, than live in it." The butler cleared his throat. "Pardon me, your grace. I am just worried about Master William. He has not been himself since they sentenced him into exile from Russia."

"I understand, you dear old man." Joyce looked around thoughtfully. "Why don't you take a break? I will go up and deal with Prince William for a while."

Igor's eyes rounded. "But, your grace, he is in the most foulest of moods, and in your condition.." He motioned to her ever rounding stomach. "I don't think I can permit it, my lady."

Joyce bristled. "It is not for you to decide, Igor. Go have tea, I will go upstairs and deal with the monster." She waved her hand, as if to dismiss him. He complied, but watched her with sad eyes. Joyce turned her attention to the stairs. The townhouse William has acquired was very nice, all oak and mohogany. It was simple, yet elegant, and Joyce couldn't have been more impressed.

As she trudged up the stairs, she could hear William yelling... "Get out of my room, you wench! I will have you fired!" then the clash of something on the floor. His dinner, more than likely. "Arrogant Man.." Joyce muttered, reaching the top of the stairs. As she turned the corner, she saw a maid scurrying down the hall. The maid nearly tripped on herself when she noticed Joyce. "Please, go downstairs and have some tea. I will take care of your master." The maid nodded, and ran past her. What on earth could William be doing to scare these poor servants to death?

Joyce opened the door. She nearly vomited. The stench was powerful and potent. Darkness enveloped the room, and there was a lone candle burning by the occupant in the bed. "Get out!" she heard his soft whisper. Instead of complying, she marched across the room and opened the curtains. Light flooded the dark room. Opening the window, she inhailed the fresh air. "There, that's better isn't it?" William said nothing. He just lay in his own misery, looking at the canopy over his bed. The last time Joyce had seen her cousin, he had been roboust and powerful. He had been tanned and devilishly handsome. The man she saw in that bed was not her cousin. He was pale and skinny. His once bronzed skin had turned a sickly yellow color. His once lovely eyes had sunken into his skull. He looked like a man defeated. "William, you do not look well."

William stared at the ceiling. "It's Spike." He grumbled. "Why are you here, Joyce? I did not think you would come and see me. We did not part well the last time we saw each other."

Joyce smiled. "You helped me escape certain death, William."

Spike frowned. "I was the one that put you in that situation in the first place."

Joyce waved her hand. "That is niether here nor there. I have come to nurse you, since you don't seem to want help from anyone else."

"I don't want your damn pity, Joyce. Go home."

"I am not leaving until you have eaten something and have put some salve on those lacerations. You also need a bath and some fresh sheets. I will call for your maid." Joyce decided, walking toward the door and pulling on the bell.

"Joy, I don't want your help! Can't you just let me die in peace? Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes, Will, I believe it is." The maid scurried up to the door. "I need some new bedclothes for his Majesty and some salve. Get a bath ready, and get the footman in here. I will need his help."

"Right away, your grace." The maid responded, and hurried about her duties.

"Why can't you just let me die? Can you give me this one thing?" Spike asked, his voice raising in octave. "I have lost everything that I have ever loved, can't you just let me have this? Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Why do you have to be stubborn, Cousin? You are so lucky, you have no idea!" Joyce shot back, throwing some wood into the nearby fireplace.

"Lucky?" Spike asked, sitting up in his bed. "You call being whipped almost to death lucky? You call people slicing your skin down to your bones lucky?"

Joyce stood up. "Yes. They could have killed you, Spike! Instead, they put you into exile, gave you one third of your fortune, which that alone is enough to feed the whole of London for twenty years, and let you take some loyal servants and leave! How many people accused of treason do you think they gave that option to? I can tell you.. None. Not one."

"You know nothing about it!" Spike whispered fiercely. "Just leave me the hell alone!"

Joyce rounded on him. "I know nothing of exile? Am I not in this country, NEVER to return to Russia? I am I not away from my mother and sisters? I can't even write a letter to them, for fear the secret police will come after me! Do not tell me that I know nothing of exile, William!"

"You have a family here! You have Summers and his daughter! You have a baby on the way. You have more here than I ever will!" Spike argued, his strength suddenly leaving him. "Just go back to your husband, Joyce, and leave me in peace."

Joyce shook her head. "I won't do that, Spike. You are my cousin."

"Distant third cousin."

"You are my cousin none the less! I am not going to go back to my home and think of you dying in this bed because you are shrouded in self- pity!" Spike opened his mouth to rebut her. "Shut up, William, or so help me God, I am not above slapping a bed ridden man!" Spike looked at her in shock. "I have much changed since the last time we met, Cousin. I will no longer put up with you and your doctorial ways." Just then, the maid entered with the linens. The footman entered after her. "Good, Ekaterina, please tell me when the bath is ready for his Highness."

The maid dipped into a small curtsy. "Yes, your grace. Right away." Joyce nodded, and the maid quietly shut the door.

"You there, what is your name?" Joyce asked the footman.

"Illia, your grace."

"Illia, help me get his Majesty out of those rags and put the salve on his wounds." The footman hurried to comply. Joyce turned her attention back to Spike. "I refuse to let you die, Cousin. You best get used to the idea of living. Exile or no."

***

Two exhausting hours later, Spike was in clean clothes and lay on fresh sheets. The bath had been the worst chore of all, his wounds still very fresh. Since he had not let anyone take care of them, they seeped a strange clear liquid and were very painful to clean. Spike had cursed his way through the bath, eventually putting a leather belt between his teeth to bite when the pain became too terrible for him to bear. The maids had taken care of the linens during the bath and had a fresh change of bed clothes waiting when he returned to his room. A hot bowl of borscht lay beside the bed on the table. Spike, however, had refused to touch it. No amount of coaxing would get him to budge. "Fine the, starve, you big ogre!" Joyce had finally sighed, sinking into the chair next to the bed.

Spike smiled. It was the first smile Joyce had seen all night. "You know I don't like that stuff." Joyce glared at him. "Joy, I would honestly like to thank you for coming over here tonight."

Joyce flushed. "When I found out that you were in London, I couldn't not see you. I knew they must have done something terrible to you. I honestly didn't know what to expect when I came over."

"But you came anyway."

"Of course! You are my family. The only link that I have left to my old life in Russia... a life that I miss very much."

Spike studied her for a moment. "Do you truly miss it?"

"Of course!" Joyce looked shocked. "Why would you ask me such a question? I am Russian down to my boots!" Spike laughed. "I don't miss it all the time, I suppose. Like when I am with Hank and Buffy..." she looked at him with a small smile. "But I miss Russia especially during the winter. The winter is nice here, but it is nothing like what we have in Russia. All of the snow.."

Spike looked shocked. "It does not snow here?"

"Yes, it does! It's just not the same. There is a different spirit there, I guess. Little children that can hardly wait for Father Christmas..." Joyce sighed. "I don't know.. Christmas time is when I miss Russia the most." Joyce became quiet for a moment. "But, what's done is done, Spike. We can't change what happened or where we are. We just have to make the best of it."

"I do not know what I will make here, Joyce." Spike looked at her for a moment. "Listen, you know that I would never ask this of you if it wasn't important."

"What is it?"

"I know you have the sight." he searched her face for some sign. "Do you see anything for me? In my future?"

Joyce took his frail hand in hers. "You know it doesn't come to me whenever I want. It just happens." Spike nodded. Joyce closed her eyes, and tried to feel something. Suddenly, out of the blue, an image came to her. Spike was smiling at a woman... she couldn't see her face, but she knew her... "I see a woman... a great love... a love that survived thousands of years... you will have a love that most people dream about....you will be happy.... wait.. I can almost see her... she's turning around.."

"Mama!"

Joyce lost her vision. She turned her face toward the door. "Buffy Ann Summers, what in God's name are you doing here?"

"I followed you on my horse. I was worried about you." Buffy walked toward her mother. Only then did she notice Spike. "Mother, what are you doing here with him?"

"He is hurt. He needs someone to take care of him." Joyce let go of Spike's hand. "You shouldn't be here, Buffy."

The twelve year old looked at her with wide eyes. "Neither should you. Papa doesn't know that you are here, does he?"

"No, he doesn't." Joyce told her, getting out of the chair.

Spike stared at Joyce. "Summers doesn't know you are here? You must leave then, he will likely beat you."

Buffy stared at him in disgust. "My father would NEVER hurt Mama. He's not like you."

Spike stared back. "Not many people are, pet."

Buffy curled her lip. "Don't call me that, you bastard!"

"Elizabeth! You don't talk to your family like that!"

"He's NOT my family." Buffy spat in disgust. "He almost killed you!"

Joyce looked at Buffy with hard eyes. "He saved my life, Buffy. You know that."

Buffy never took her eyes from Spike. "He wouldn't have had to save you if he hadn't put you in danger in the first place."

Spike smiled at the small child. "Touché, pet."

Joyce sighed. "Buffy, stay here with William. I am going to have the footman bring the carriage around. It's late."

Neither Spike nor Buffy took their eyes off of one another as Joyce left the room. The air seemed to crackle around them. "You disgust me." Buffy whispered, sitting down in the chair her mother had just vacated. "I don't understand how Mama can help you after what you did to her."

"Your mother is very kind, pet. She can't abide seeing someone hurt... even if it is well deserved."

Buffy turned her face away from his gaze. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It gave her chills. Her gaze fell on the soup. "Are you going to eat that?"

Spike glanced at it. "I hadn't planned to."

"How do you expect to get better if you don't eat? You are far too skinny." Buffy told him, taking the bowl into her lap. She stirred the still warm soup. "You need to eat." she told him, bringing the spoon to his lips. When his lips didn't part, Buffy pushed the spoon against his lips. "Eat."

Spike took a bite in spite of himself. "It seems you are more like Joyce than you think."

Buffy shrugged. "I don't like seeing good food go to waste."

Buffy fed him in silence as Joyce watched by the door. Something wasn't right. Something didn't fit. It scared her. "Buffy, we must go. Your father will be worried about us."

Buffy nodded, as she finished feeding Spike. She returned the empty bowl to the table by the bed. "I'll come back to see you tomorrow."

"No you won't! A man's sick room is no place for a young lady!" Joyce scolded.

"Who said I was a young lady? If you can come I will too."

Spike chuckled. "She may not be your daughter by blood, Joy, but she is exactly like you."

Buffy frowned. "No one asked your opinion, your Highness." Buffy headed for the door after her mother before she turned to face him. "I will see you tomorrow."

"I count on it, Pet."

***

Two months later

Hank Summers walked into the foyer of his home. His wife of two years, Joyce, met him at the door. As always, the sight of his wife set his heart into a flurry. She was still as beautiful as the day he met her. "Hello my love." Hank whispered, holding her close.

"Hank.." Joyce began, only to be interrupted by Buffy running out of the sitting room.

"Daddy, come see the kitten Spike brought me." she was so excited, she didn't see the look on her father's face before she ran back in.

"Spike? Your cousin William? What the hell is doing in my house?" Hank questioned, giving Joyce a hard look. "You didn't invite him without asking me, did you?"

Joyce slapped his arm. "No, Hank, I didn't. He came on his own. He wanted to thank Buffy for helping him in his recovery. She really was very vital.." Joyce told him when his brow drooped sharply. "Listen, about the kitten..."

"Daddy! Come see!" Buffy cried from inside the sitting room.

"I'm coming, Buffy."

"Hank.. no wait, Hank..." Joyce tried, but failed to get him to stop.

The first thing Hank saw when walking into the room was Spike sitting in the chair. "William." Spike nodded his head. Then he saw his daughter, hovering over a small fluff of orange and black fur. It looked as if she was trying to get the kitten to drink from the saucer of milk on the floor. The kitten was having none of it, however, as it hobbled over to Buffy's lap. The kitten's paws were bandaged with white tape, making it difficult for the kitten to walk. Just when he was about to open his mouth to comment, Hank noticed the servants huddled together in the corner.

"It's going to eat us.." one of the maids whispered, clutching her hands to her throat.

Only then did Hank look closer at the animal. "Good Jesus.. it's a tiger cub!"

"Isn't he cute, Papa?" Buffy asked, crooning over the cub. "I love him so much!"

Hank turned on Spike. "You bought my daughter a Tiger? Is that how you say thank you in Russia?" A small smiled played at Spike’s lips, but he said nothing. Hank turned on Joyce. "We can't keep it."

Buffy's head went up. "Yes we can, Papa. He's very small. I could keep him in my closet."

"He won't stay small for long!" Hank roared, running his hands through his hair. "I demand, your highness, that you take this animal back to where you found it!"

"No, Papa!" Buffy sprang up, holding the tiger cub close to her heart. "Please, don't take away Manny."

The eyes killed Hank. He could feel himself giving in. "Perhaps.." Joyce began, looking Hank in the eye. "we might be able to build a cage outside by the gardens for the cub. But, Buffy.. it would be your responsibility to take care of Manny. Do you understand what that means?"

Buffy nodded excitedly. "Oh, yes Mama!" Buffy looked over at her father. "I will take care of Manny, Papa. You won't even know that he's here. I'm so excited!" Buffy scrambled over to the dish with the milk in it. "Drink up, Manny. We need you big and strong."

"So I guess we are keeping the animal?" Hank asked Joyce, who ducked her face under his arm. "It would be nice if I got to make a few decisions around here."

Spike took that opportunity to get up from the couch. "Well, I guess I must be going. I only came to thank Buffy and Joyce for taking such good care of me." he bowed in the direction of Joyce. "I thank you again, my lady. Your kindness is beyond bounds." He straightened and looked over at Buffy. "And you, Mistress Elizabeth.." he bowed deep. "Your kindness is beyond anything I have ever experienced. I thank you again." For one instant, his eyes met with hers and he left something... a spark of energy. He looked away, and dismissed it just as easily. She is only a child. "I must be off."

Buffy trailed behind him. "Let me walk you out, your Highness."

As the two walked out of the room, Joyce put her arms around her husband. "You did a good thing. I think that cub will be good for Buffy. It will teach her responsibility."

Hank huffed. "I still don't like it. I don't like that he wants to spend so much time with my family. Especially Buffy. He is dangerous."

Joyce watched over Hank's shoulder at Spike and Buffy. Buffy held Manny over her shoulder, where the kitten laid peacefully. Spike stroked the kitten's fur, and for a moment, wrapped a finger around one of Buffy's curls at the nape of her neck. Some would pass it off as an innocent mistake, but not Joyce. Suddenly, she saw Spike and Buffy. They were older and laughing. Spike kissed Buffy, and then led her down into the darkness. "Hank, I think you're right. I'll see to it that William doesn't come over as often."

AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! The next chapter will find our favorite couple 8 years down the road... Hope to see you then!

London, England 1863

I hate balls.

That was what was going through Buffy’s head as she stood by the wall, watching everyone dance. Every ball was the same. She stood in the same spot by a balcony, watching everyone else have a good time. As she watched the couples twirling on the floor, she felt a twinge of envy. Most gentlemen didn’t ask her to dance because she wasn’t the most beautiful girl, with her looks. Most gentlemen preferred brunette’s with dark eyes. That was just fine with her, though. She only danced when it was necessary, with her father or her uncles. It didn’t matter anyway because the only person Buffy wanted to dance with, she never would.

Alexander Harris was the man of Buffy’s dreams. Xander, she called him. He had to title, and seemingly no money, but that didn’t matter to her. She knew that he loved her. Her father had called him a dowry chaser, but she didn’t believe that. Even across the room from one another, like right now, his heart called to her. He would sneak glances at her when he thought that no one would notice. He sent her flowers; they would sneak off and meet together in the garden. If her father ever found out, he would probably send her off to a convent, but it didn’t matter. She would find a way to be with Xander if it killed her.

“Something on your mind?” A snippety voice called from behind Buffy.

Buffy turned to see Faith Harris walking toward her. “Faith, so nice to see you.”

Faith smirked. “Is it? I guess it is good to see you too. Are you still mooning over my brother?” she asked, her eyes pointing to Xander. “You know that he is way too good for you.”

Buffy’s smile was tight. “As always, it is a pleasure to speak with you, Faith, but I fear I must leave now.” Emily turned to leave, but stopped when Faith’s voice stopped her.

“And do what? Ask Alexander to dance? How would your father feel about that? To see you twirling around with my brother?” Faith asked snidely, drinking a sip of her champagne. “You know, I really don’t see what my brother likes so much about you. You look like a dolly. With all that hair and those starry eyes. No wonder no one ever wants to dance with you. I wouldn’t want you on my arm either.”

Faith’s words had hit their mark. Buffy was never thought of as beautiful, but she thought she was pretty enough. At least Xander thought she was pretty enough, and that was all that mattered. But still, Buffy could feel the tears start to form in her eyes. Faith really knew how to kick somebody down. Buffy tried to fight back the tears, but as much as she wanted to, her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She could feel them trail down her cheeks.

Spike watched the encounter from the other side of the room. Damn that stupid girl! Spike thought, watching as tears formed in Buffy’s eyes. There was only one way to put a stop to this nonsense. As Spike made his way over to Buffy, he watched Faith through guarded eyes as she smiled into her champagne glass. “Hello, Buffy. Would you care to dance?”

“William..” Buffy breathed, more relieved to see him than she ever knew possible.

“Your Highness, I don’t think our little wallflower likes to dance.” Faith sneered, putting down her champagne glass. “But I would be more than happy to dance with you.”

Spike noticed the way Buffy grimaced as Faith spoke. It only furthered his plan. “No thank you, Miss Harris. I asked the most beautiful lady in the room for this waltz, and that, my dear, isn’t you.” Spike smiled at Buffy. “Shall we, my lady?” he asked, offering her his arm.

Buffy beamed up at him. “Yes, your grace, let’s dance.” She replied, giving him her arm. “I’ll talk to you later, Miss Harris.” Buffy threw over her shoulder, just in time to see the look of rage and jealousy on her face. “Thank you so much for getting me away from her, Spike.” Buffy whispered as they took their places for the waltz. “ It means a lot to me.”

Spike smiled at her. “I didn’t do it for you. I wanted to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room. I have quite the reputation, you know.” Spike smirked down at her, and swept her up into a waltz.

Buffy could feel her face getting hot. “There is no need to lie to me, Spike.” Buffy whispered, looking down at his cravat.

Spike stopped the dancing and lifted her head with his finger. “I would not lie to you, Buffy.” He had to contain himself as Buffy looked at him. She was looking at him with such wonder and awe… like she had never been told that she was beautiful. “I think we need to speak outside, Miss Summers.”

***

The air outside was cool, the breeze picking up in the night sky. Spike ushered Buffy to the garden, sitting down beside her on the bench. As Buffy studied the night sky, Spike studied Buffy. She was a beautiful creature, he thought. But still so innocent of the world. She had no idea what the world could hand her if she wasn’t careful. “I know about Alexander Harris, Buffy.”

“There is nothing to know.” Buffy told him, her heart racing in her chest.

“Look at me, Elizabeth.” Spike requested. He did not speak again until he could see her eyes. “There is much to know about that fortune hunter.”

Buffy’s eyes flared. “Don’t speak about him like that. He loves me!” She exclaimed, but promptly shut her mouth after revealing such a secret.

Spike studied her face. “He loves you? Is that what he told you?”

“Yes.” Buffy snapped, turning her face away from him.

“Then why hasn’t he asked your father for your hand? Is he afraid that Daddy will say no?” Spike inquired, looking at her stiff posture.

“He knows that my father will not allow me to marry him. That is why we are planning to elope once Xander gets some money.” Buffy told him, looking straight back into his eyes. “Why do you care if I marry Alexander Harris?”

“Because I care about you, Buffy.” Spike told her, unashamed of his feelings. “I don’t want to see you disinherited by your father because you chose a man who could not provide things for you!”

“Why do you care?!” Buffy asked, getting up from the bench. “You have no reason to care if I get disinherited at all!”

Spike stood up. “I would be dead right now if it hadn’t been for you and your mother. I have every right to care about you!” Spike exclaimed, reaching for her wrist. “I’ll prove it to you.” He told her just before he pulled her to him.

“How?” Buffy asked, her breath coming in small pants. He was entirely too close. In all her twenty years, Buffy had never been held this close by a man, and now she feared she might die from it.

“Like this.” Spike whispered before his lips came crashing down on hers.


Buffy stood frozen....Prince William Stanislaski wasn't kissing her... was he?

It seemed her mind was frozen, but her body knew exactly what to do. Her arms came up around his neck, anchoring her to the only solid thing in her universe. His mouth was gentle, but insistent. His hands moved up to caress her face, opening her mouth to the thrust of his tongue. He moaned, as if the taste of her mouth was killing him. She responded tentatively, her tongue shyly meeting his, in a slow thrust of pleasure.

Spike groaned again, crushing her in his embrace. He had waited so long for this moment... for this kiss. Now she was in his arms, pliant and willing. One of his hands grasped the back of her neck, tilting her head back so he could open her more to his kisses. She tasted like champagne and flowers. Spike sighed, gentling the kiss by degrees, until he could finally let her go.

Buffy looked up at him with wide eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her breath coming in small bursts.

Spike searched her face. "I don't know."

"That was..."

"For me too." he whispered, his hands running over her arms.

Buffy stepped out of his embrace. "That can't happen again. I love Xander." Buffy turned away, her hand coming up to her lips. "I love Xander..." she whispered again.

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me?" Spike asked, stepping toward her again, and putting his hands on her shoulders. Gently, as if not to scare her, he drew her back until she rested against him. Spike turned his head into her hair. "Buffy, don't be afraid of me."

"I'm not. You are just shocking me with all of this." Buffy told him, a small hitch in her voice.

"Shocking you?" Spike asked, kissing the side of her neck.

"Yes..." Buffy moaned, turning in his arms. "I never thought that you would ever feel something for me other than sisterly affection..."

Spike smiled and shook his head. "Buffy.." he whispered, titling his head in for another kiss.

"You call me cousin!" Buffy said quickly, shaking her head. "I have to go... I'm sorry.." She whispered, and quickly ran up the steps, and into the house.

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Twenty minutes later, Buffy stood by her mother's side at the edge of the dance floor.

"Are you alright dear? You seem a little preoccupied." Joyce asked, reaching out and touching Buffy's arm.

Buffy smiled brightly. "I am fine, mother. I am just a tad tired."

Joyce frowned. "Do you wish to go home? I can do the dance for you."

"The dance?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowing.

"The dance to begin the ball. You told William that you would dance it with him." Joyce reminded her.

Buffy grimaced. "No, I forgot. I will dance it, Mother. Don't worry." Buffy put on a good show, but inside she was shaking. How was she supposed to dance with Spike after what happened in the garden? How could she let him touch her and not remember the way she shamelessly let him have his way with her? She felt her skin grow warm at the memory.

"Are you alright dear? You look a little flushed.... are you ill?" Joyce asked, her questioning brown eyes on her only daughter.

"I am fine, Mother. I am a little overheated. I think I shall go outside and get some cool air on my cheeks." Buffy replied, taking her fan out of her curricle.

"Do you want me to come with you, dear?"

"No, I will be fine, Mother. I will be back in a few minutes."

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Outside in the Stanislaski Garden

Spike wondered around aimlessly. How long he had waited for Buffy's kiss... it was better than he had ever dreamed. She was so passionate, so pure. He ached to touch her again, to be with her. How could this have happened? He hadn't meant to kiss her.... but when she stood there with fire in her eyes, it was the only way that he could show her that she was more than just a friend to him. Spike sighed, raking a hand through his hair. How could he have let it go so far?

A noise from behind a hedge captured Spike’s attention. Voices could be heard shortly after. Intrigued, Spike walked over to the edge of the hedge to peer around it. Much to his surprise, the person... or should he say people, making that noise was Buffy and Alexander Harris. "Interesting.." Spike whispered, keeping his spot at the hedge. "Very interesting."

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"Oh Buffy.." Xander sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "I have longed to hold you all night." She felt so good in his arms. How he wanted to have her like this always. "Just a few more years, my love, and we will be together."

Buffy smiled, looking up into his handsome face. "Why do we have to wait? Why not just go now?" Buffy asked, holding him tighter against her. "We could just run away..."

Xander broke from the embrace with a sound of annoyance. "We CAN'T just run away, Buffy!" Xander told her sternly, his hands holding her shoulders. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere!" Buffy cried. "It doesn't matter where we are, just as long as we are together! Don't you understand that?"

"No! I don't understand." Xander told her coldly, walking away from her. "What kind of life could I give you? We would be penniless..."

"But happy!" Buffy argued, her arms dangling lifelessly at her side. "We would be happy."

"As what?" Xander scoffed. "The wife of a farmer?"

"Why not?" Buffy smiled, walking over to him. "We would be happy together. It doesn't matter to me if we go to balls or if I have fancy dresses. I just want you."

Xander sighed, as if defeated, wrapping his arms around her. "I know, my love. We would be happy, but I want more for you than that. I want you to have the life that you have always dreamed of...a life that includes your family. Your father would be furious if we eloped.. Especially if I had no money to my name." He smiled, rubbing his nose against hers. "Just trust me, love. Everything will work out."

Buffy sighed and nodded, defeated. "I trust you Xander.... with everything I have."

Xander smiled. "Kiss me before I go in, my love. I have been waiting all night for one of your sweet kisses." he told her, bending his head down to receive her kiss. His lips were warm and soft, brushing lightly against hers in the briefest of touches. She tried to deepen the kiss, to feel again what she had felt with William. To prove to herself that it wasn't just him that made her feel that way. Xander resisted though, pulling back before she felt the smallest of flickers. "Mmm.. thank you.." he whispered, lifting his head.

Buffy smiled slightly. "Go inside before someone sees us." She waved as he walked back inside to the party. Slowly, Buffy lifted her hand to her lips. "Oh God.. what has he done to me?" Her hand was trembling against her lips, angering her. She squared her shoulders, and made her way back to the party.

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The ballroom was a sight to behold. The floor was littered with couples, all eagerly waiting for the official start of the dancing. A dance at Greystone, William’s palace, was a yearly occasion that everyone wished to hold an invitation to. Candles glittered all around the room, and above their heads in a beautiful chandelier. Buffy spied her mother and father talking in a group of their old friends. She recognized a few as her godparents, Duke of Carlinton, Giles, and his duchess, Jenny. Another couple was her father's business partner Lord Robin Wood and his wife, Willow. Buffy smiled as her mother caught her eye. Buffy waved and started to make her way over until a hand on her arm stopped her. "Allow me to escort you, Elizabeth." And Buffy found herself looking into the face of Prince William Stanislaski.

Buffy's skin burned from where his gloved hand touched her skin. Why was this happening now? Why when she finally found happiness with Xander? "I would be honored, your highness."

Spike smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Spike. Don't you think we are on a first name basis, Elizabeth?" His smiled widened at her blush. "Shall I escort you?"

"If you wish it, your majesty." Buffy replied, her eyes trained on the floor.

Spike bent his head, and whispered in her ear.. "I wish it very much, Buffy. Very much."

Buffy's head shot up at his statement, and she found herself nose to nose with him, in a very inappropriate position... especially in a crowded ballroom. If she thought it was impossible to blush anymore, she was wrong. She could feel herself getting much hotter by the moment. Fortunately, her discomfort was only momentary. A servant came to her rescue, talking to Spike in hushed tones. When he looked back at her, his face was preoccupied. "Unfortunately, I cannot accompany you to your parents. It is time for my blasted speech."

He looked so much like a petulant child that had been deprived one of his favorite toys, Buffy had to laugh. "Don't worry, Spike, you get to dance with me."

His eyes darkened at the use of his childhood name. "I will hold you to that, Elizabeth." Spike whispered, bringing her hand up for his kiss.

And as he walked away, Buffy couldn't help but think that she was playing with fire... and the funny thing was, she didn't care if she got burned.

Prince of Dreams Chapter Three



“I would like to thank all of you for coming tonight…”

Spike’s rich voice flowed through the room like honey. Buffy was momentarily mesmerized by the sound. His accent was almost… well… British. Funny that she had never noticed it before. If one did not know any better, one would think that he was a born and bread Englishman. He dressed in the highest of British fashion with highly shined Hessians. His hair was riot of curls cropped close to his head in a wonderfully strange shade of blonde and copper. But his eyes… his eyes. A woman could get lost in those. Deep pools of cobalt blue surveyed the room as he spoke. A slight smile gracing his full mouth. How could this be the man that almost had her mother killed? She knew it was, for she was there when he took her. But had he changed? Was he sorry?

“Mother, I need to speak with your for a moment.” Buffy whispered. “I need to know everything about William.”

Joyce’s eyes became guarded. “What do you want to know about William?”

Buffy put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Everything you know.”

”Why?”

Buffy closed her eyes, drawing her brow down in annoyance. “Mama, please. I need to know.”

“Buffy..” Joyce sighed, covering Buffy’s hand with her own. “You know everything that matters. You know that he kidnapped me, but you also know that he saved me from a certain death. That is all you need to know.”

“Mama, I need to know EVERYTHING. Why did he kidnap you?” At her mother’s silence, Buffy grew agitated. “Mother, I MUST know. Please do not hide things from me. You promised that you would always tell me the truth. I NEED to understand what happened.”

“Why the sudden interest in William, Buffy? You have known him for 8 years and only NOW you are asking me? I don’t understand.”

“Mother, please. I need to understand the situation with a woman’s eyes. Not a child’s.”

Joyce’s eyes softened at her tone. “You were so young when everything happened. Alright child, I will tell you everything you wish to know.”

*****

Alexander Harris listened to Prince William Stanislaski with disdain. God how he hated the bastard. How could someone be so bloody pompous when he wasn’t even one of them? He wasn’t part of the Ton. He was a bloody immigrant with money. That’s it. Why did everyone seem to hang on his every word? He was a murderer, if one listened to the gossip. He had killed someone in cold blood. For what, no one dared to speculate. But, it had been bad enough for the Prince to be exiled from his own country. He wished the wanker would stop talking so he could go find Buffy.

Ah.. Elizabeth. Just her name was enough to lighten his mood. Who would have guessed his fortune? She loved him AND she had money. It was fabulous. And to think that he cared for the girl too? Remarkable. When he set his cap for her, little did he know that she had a brain behind that blonde head of hers? She was so spunky and so willing to do ANYTHING for him. It was a wonder that he hadn’t bedded her already. But, she had to trust him. She had to believe that he was a gentleman, not a dowry chaser. He did care for the gel, but he never thought of her when he was lying between Drusilla’s thighs.

Drusilla… that name was enough to make his cock heavy. The woman had absolutely no shame in bed. None. A bloody marvel, she was. The way that her quim felt around his cock was heaven enough, but the fact that she didn’t wish anything from him? Now THAT was absolutely remarkable. She was happy enough when he graced her with his presence. The occasion bauble kept her happy in his absence. She did not wish to marry him, or saddle him with children that he couldn’t feed. In fact, she was very careful not to get herself heavy with a burden that neither of them wanted. He would defiantly keep her with him once he landed his prize. And think of all the pretty things he could buy her once he had Buffy’s money?

He just had to keep Buffy waiting for a little while longer. His plan was almost set. She was such a responsive thing. And if that kiss in the garden told him anything, he wouldn’t have to wait long for her to come to him. All he needed was her alone to compromise her so badly, that Summers would have no choice but to let him marry her, dowry and all. Xander smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to open her sweet thighs to see the prize for all his patience and hard work.

Soon, he told himself.. Very soon.

*************
Buffy stood speechless after her talk with her mother. Spike thought that JOYCE had killed his brother? Joyce.. her step-mother, who was afraid of spiders? To think that she could actually kill someone in cold blood? That was almost inconceivable to anyone who knew her. “I don’t understand. He thought that YOU killed his brother? Why you?”

Joyce smiled slightly. “Sergei and I were engaged to be married.”

Buffy’s mouth opened in an “O” from. “So that automatically means that you killed him?”

“I found his body, Buffy.”

Buffy’s gasp reverberated through the small library. “You FOUND him?”

Joyce nodded, her eyes heavy with the memory. “Yes. Someone had stuck a letter opener in his throat. He was still alive when I found him. He reached for me, and I got blood all over my dress. I don’t remember much after that, but the police arrived and they took me to jail. They were going to hang me, Buffy.”

Buffy paled. “HANG YOU? Oh, Mama..” Buffy breathed, blinking away tears. “How did you get away?”

Joyce smiled. “A nun believed in my innocence and smuggled me out of the prison. I received safe passage to London on a charter boat, and my mother sent a missive to Giles explaining what was happening. Then they got me the position as your governess with your father.”

“But Spike was looking for you, wasn’t he?” Buffy asked, her brow dropping. “He found you in London after you married Papa… and he took you back to Russia.” Buffy smiled recalling the memory. “I remember.”


London, 1854

11 Year old Buffy Summers didn’t think life could get much better. She had a new mother, Joyce, and she was shopping for a new dress! Things in Buffy-Land were absolutely great! She could hear her new mother laughing at someone the dress maker lady said, and her heart filled with joy. After the death of her mother, Buffy never thought that her father would actually fall in love again. To see how happy Joyce made her father was enough for her, but the fact that Joyce seemed to love Buffy too? It was fabulous. She finally had her family that she always wanted.

Family…

That word had always been foreign to Buffy growing up. Her mother died when she was so young, the only female influences she ever had was the servants and her God Mother, Jenny. But that all changed when Joyce came into their lives. She was like a whirlwind of love and compassion. She had changed the darkness in her father’s eyes to light and love. Buffy didn’t think she would ever be able to pay her back for that.

“Mama, what do you think of this?” Buffy asked, holding up a piece of fabric. “I think it would go with my eyes.”

Joyce smiled, taking the fabric in her hand. “I believe you are right, Buffy. You will look beautiful!” Joyce pronounced, hugging her new daughter warmly. “I think we shall buy you 10 dresses with in the color!”

Buffy giggled. “I think that is a grand idea!” She flung her around Joyce. “I love you.”

Joyce’s eyes glistened. “I love you too, Buffy.”

“Aw, how sweet..” a dark voice interrupted. “And to think I came all this way just to mess up this pretty little picture.”

Joyce turned toward the voice. Her heart was hammering. How did he find her? “William.” She stated, placing Buffy behind her.

Spike inclined his head, his eyes never leaving Joyce. “Joy.”

Buffy clung to her mother’s skirts. She didn’t like this. Why was her mother so afraid? “Mama, who is this man?”

Spike tilted his head to the side. What a pretty young gel, he thought. “Hello, Cutie. Who are you?”

“I am Elizabeth Summers. Who are you?”

Spike smiled slightly. “Prince William Stanislaski at your service, my lady.” Spike told her, bending down at the waist.

“Shut up.” Joyce seethed, grabbing Buffy by the shoulders. She crouched down to her level and spoke into her eyes. “Listen to me, Buffy. I love you… always remember that I love you. I want you to run.”

“Run?”

“Yes, darling. Run as fast as you can back home and get your father. Tell him who is here and tell him that I love him.” Joyce’s eyes misted over. “Please Buffy. Tell him that I love him.”

Buffy started crying. “What is going on? Why are you saying goodbye to us? Don’t you want to be with us?” Buffy threw her arms around Joyce. “Please don’t leave me, Mama. I love you. Have I been bad? Please stay.”

Joyce felt herself breaking down. She needed to be strong. She HAD to be strong. “I don’t want to leave you, honey. I have to. I love you always.” She pulled Buffy back so she could look into her eyes. “Now run, baby!” She told her, pushing her towards the door. “Run!”

Joyce and Spike watched as Buffy ran out the door, heedless to whoever was in her way. Spike brought his malicious gaze back to Joyce. “It is time to pay for what you did, Joy. Did you think you could run forever?”

“Go to hell, your Highness.”



Buffy was brought back to her senses by her mother. “The speech is almost over, Buffy. You need to be out there so you can dance. Did you find out everything you needed to know?”

Buffy smiled. “Not everything, but enough.”

Now she had to talk to Spike.