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Chapter 20


“I need to pee.”

Buffy looked at Anya, who was sitting beside her in the back of Spike’s car. “But we only just stopped.”

“It’s the caffeine. They were out of decaf at the last service station and when I have caffeine, I have to pee. William, you’ll have to stop.”

“We’re on the bloody M6. I can’t just stop.” Spike sounded like he was barely holding on to his temper. They were only an hour into the journey to the Lakes and already they’d had to make three bathroom stops.

Anya squeezed her legs together. “Please William, I’m desperate.”

“Look, it’s been barely fifteen minutes, can’t you just hold it or something?”

“I need one too.” It was Andrew. He’d hardly said a word for the whole journey, but had niftily managed to grab the front seat after their last stop.

It was turning into a game of musical chairs. Buffy had started out next to Spike, but after the first rest stop, Anya had been the first one out to the car park and had jumped in before she could get there. She’d also beaten her to it the second time, but the third time Andrew had been waiting by the front passenger door with a smug little smile on his face. Buffy didn’t mind really. They had to be discrete this weekend, and she was only a little bit concerned by Anya’s continued ‘Seduce Spike’ campaign.

Yesterday had been another turning point in her relationship with Spike. They’d lain in bed and talked quietly in the dark. She’d made him laugh with her tales of Buffy the Spoilt Brat, and he’d made her want to cry when he’d told her what had happened with his mum. How his dad had dumped him in a boarding school and gone abroad because he couldn’t cope with it. How no-one had ever talked to him about it. She felt privileged that he’d wanted to share it, realising that it reflected the depth of his feelings for her.

She’d tried to make him understand the nature of her relationship with her dad. He said he did, but she doubted it. He was so fiercely independent, having been thrown back onto his own resources from an early age, where she’d been cosseted and protected all her life. He’d said himself that he didn’t feel he owed his dad anything, had no guilt about making his own life. She was just the opposite.

What they really needed was to meet somewhere in the middle, she thought, wondering if she should suggest he visit his dad next time he was home. She was learning to let go of hers. He needed to reconcile with his, and forgive him for whatever he thought he’d done to him. The upshot of it all was that today she felt a new-found confidence in herself, and in Spike. She could happily sit in the back of his car and not worry in the slightest that Anya was sitting next to him in a totally inappropriate -for- travelling micro- mini skirt, that had obviously been chosen for maximum impact. She was even less worried by Andrew, who was being a little more subtle, but who nevertheless seemed to have his sights firmly set on Spike for the weekend.

She’d given Spike her heart, and she knew that she could trust him with it. It was a nice, comfortable feeling. Not the most poetic way to put it, but it was just how she felt as she snuggled into the seat and watched the scenery flash by. It wasn’t very warm, but the sun was shining, albeit weakly, and England really was a green and pleasant land. Spike had told her she wouldn’t be disappointed by the Lake District, and she was really looking forward to it. She’d never got to go to that cosy country pub with Xander, so that was high on her list of things to do. If they could get away that was.

“William.” Anya reached forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, almost causing him to swerve. “We’ve got to stop soon, or I’m going to - you know?”

“What?”


Buffy caught a glimpse of his expression in the rear view mirror and she had to bite her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

“Buffy, you don’t need to stop, do you?”

“Well, actually, Spike...” It was the power of suggestion. The more you talked about it, the more you wanted to do it. And now she needed to go too. “Sorry, Spike.”

Spike indicated and changed lanes. “Bloody hell, this is turning into an outing for the incontinent. Right, every one cross your legs for the next mile, and then there’s another service station. Okay?”

They all chorused yes at the same time, which made them laugh.

Anya turned to Buffy. “So, are you coming to the Medieval banquet tonight?”

“That’s where we all get to dress up, right? I’d like that, never been to one before. What about costumes?”

“You can hire them from the Hall. William, Andrew, you’re coming too, aren’t you? Anya leaned forward, and very blatantly stroked the back of Spike’s head, causing another mini-swerve.

“I can’t wait to see you in tights.”

Spike ducked his head as he tried to avoid her hand. “I am not wearing tights, no way.”

“I am,” Andrew chimed up. “I’m doing Robin Hood. Going as, I mean.” He corrected himself hastily as Anya let out a loud snigger. “So, what are you going as, Spike?”

“Myself. I’m not wearing any poncy costume. In fact I’m not going at all.” Spike fed the car on to the slip road and left the motorway for the service station.

Buffy felt a pang of disappointment. She really wanted to go to this. Fancied herself in a long flowing dress with the steeple hat. And she had been fantasising about Spike in some sort of costume. Perhaps not tights exactly, but chain-mail, or something manly. Surely he’d agree to that?

“You could go as a knight, Spike.” She hadn’t spoken to him much on the journey, and it felt a little strange having to watch what she said. “You know, chain mail, that sort of thing. I’m really looking forward to it.”

"Are you?" He sounded a little flustered at that. "Look, I might turn up, but I'm not dressing up. Does that please everyone?"

"Yes,” everyone chorused at the same time, once again, causing more laughter.

“Just be quick, will you.” Spike parked up and they all trooped into the service station.

“So, how am I doing?” Anya took out her lipstick and added another coat to the many she was already wearing.

Buffy took out a comb and swept it through her hair. “Doing with what, Anya?” She wasn’t worried about Anya going after Spike, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“William. Are you blind, Buffy? Don’t tell me that you don’t fancy him as well.”

Buffy put her comb back in her bag and surveyed herself in the mirror. “Well, of course I fancy him. Everyone does, right? But he’s like, our tutor isn’t he? You know, forbidden fruit and all that. Besides, he’s probably got a girlfriend already. I’d be surprised if he hadn’t.”

Anya’s face fell practically down to her feet. “You think?” Then she brightened. “Never mind, after this weekend, she’ll be the last thing on his mind.”

“Oh yeah.” Buffy was definitely curious now as they walked back to the car. They stopped in the shop and Buffy bought a bag of sandwiches and drinks for everyone.

“So what did you have in mind?” Did she need to worry about this? Of course not, but it looked like Anya was going to be a prize pain-in-the-ass for the whole of the weekend.

“Just wait and see,” Anya replied cryptically. “Let’s just say that the signs are looking very good.” She increased her pace as the car came into view, obviously making a play for the front seat. Spike was leaning against the car smoking a cigarette, which he hastily threw down and stamped out as he saw Buffy approach. She shook her head and mouthed ‘naughty boy’ at him. Last night he’d promised he was giving up. Andrew reappeared, looking disappointed that Anya had grabbed the front seat. He jumped back in surprise as Spike threw him the keys.

“You’re driving, okay?”

Andrew accepted them with good grace and Spike slid into the back seat with Buffy. He strapped himself into his seat belt and turned to her.

“So, Buffy, You’re American, eh. I’ve seen you around, how are you settling in?”

“Quite well, thank you. I’ve been made very welcome.”

“Good, we wouldn’t want you to feel neglected, would we?” Spike winked at her, obviously enjoying himself. Having chosen the seat behind Anya, he was out of her line of sight, but Buffy wasn’t, and she was having to watch her reactions very carefully.

Spike spent the next hour giving her every sexy facial expression he could think of. The tongue between the teeth, the sucking of the bottom lip, and his hand kept straying to his crotch in a very suggestive manner. By the time they stopped to change over drivers again, Anya, who had spent the whole time twisted around, keeping tabs on Buffy, was complaining of a sore neck and Buffy was on the verge of barely contained hysteria.

Part of it was due to Spike’s antics, but the other was due to the fact that Andrew had been watching it all in the rear view mirror and obviously thought it was aimed at him. She’d definitely seen him adjusting the mirror so he could get a better view.

He spent the rest of the journey returning all of the gestures Spike had made, only it didn’t look anything like as sexy. By the time they arrived, Anya was convinced that Andrew had the hots for Buffy, Spike was wondering if Andrew had gone mad, and Buffy seemed to be the only one who had a clue what was going on.


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


Spike smartly side-stepped Andrew as they both reached into the boot of his car to retrieve their luggage. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been pulling all sorts of funny faces for the last hour of the journey, and for a moment Spike had thought that he was making a play for Buffy. He decided that Andrew must be suffering from some sort of facial tic, and it would be impolite to mention it, but the lad was definitely strange. He hefted out the bags, Buffy’s weighed a ton, and dumped them on the ground.

“Okay, get yourselves checked in. There’s a two hour meeting in the small hall, then there’s that banquet thing.” He picked up Buffy’s bag. “Do you need any help with this?”

“Thanks William.” Buffy stopped her perusal of the old building and turned to him. “Or do you prefer Spike? I’ve heard that’s your nickname.”

“Whatever.” He picked up the bag, wondering if he was going to get Buffy alone for a few minutes before the meeting started. He’d got himself properly worked up, sitting in the back of the car with her and he needed at least a quick snog to tide him over. Then he was going to get to see her dressed as a medieval maiden, and his fertile imagination had already run through all the fantasy role-play opportunities that had to offer. He had a very interesting night in mind for the both of them.

“William, would you get mine too since you’re being such a gentleman?” Anya grabbed hold of Buffy and linked arms with her. “We’ll go on and check us in.”

Spike stood and watched as Buffy was herded into the hotel by Anya. Damn her, she seemed determined to monopolise Buffy. He couldn’t seem to get anywhere near her without that irritating bint popping up. And Andrew was still pulling those funny faces. He blew out a long breath as he watched the girls disappear through the ornate doorway and picked up the rest of the bags. At least he’d managed to fix it so that him and Buffy had rooms next to each other. Sneaking in after lights out should be no problem, as long as Anya left them alone, that was. He caught up with them at the check-in desk, stopping to have a few words with some of the other students who’d just arrived. By the time they got to Buffy’s room, he could barely contain himself.

“Bloody hell, I thought she’d never go,” he said between breathless kisses. “She has to be the most irritating person on the planet.”

He eyed the four poster bed and swept Buffy off her feet and carried her over to it.

“Gonna give this a proper workout tonight, love. Can’t wait to see you in that costume.” He rolled her onto her back and propped himself up on his elbows over her.

“How long have we got Spike?” Her eyes had already gone smoky with desire.

He looked at his watch. “Half an hour, then I’ve got to go get ready. Meeting starts at four. But that gives up more than enough time for...” He dipped his head for a kiss, groaning as her tongue swept into his mouth, sliding his hand up her leg, pulling her skirt with it. She tugged at his sweatshirt and he let her manoeuvre it off him and throw it onto the floor.

They both jumped at the sharp knock on the door.


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


Spike leapt off the bed, followed by Buffy, who pushed him towards the bathroom. “I bet it’s Anya, get in there.”


He didn’t seem in any hurry to go, pulling her in for another kiss. “Go now,” she said, peeling him off her and pushing him through the door. He yanked her to him for another kiss, took her hand, and brushed her fingers over the front of his jeans.

“Get rid of her, I’ll be waiting.”

“Buffy!” The knocking continued.

“Coming,” Buffy replied, hastily combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her clothes. She took a calming breath and opened the door. Anya stood there, wearing a bathrobe, and looking a little flushed. She pushed past Buffy and stood in the middle of the room expectantly.

For a moment Buffy thought she was going to ask to use the bathroom. How the hell was she going to explain Spike being in there. What? He’d taken up plumbing in his spare time and was checking the pipes?

“Wanted to show you something.” Anya grabbed the front of her robe and yanked it open, just like a flasher Buffy had seen in a film.

“So, what do you think?”

Buffy just about managed to stop her jaw from hitting the floor. “It’s, umm, it’s very nice.” She felt a bit strange saying that to a woman. A woman who was standing before her wearing some of the raunchiest underwear Buffy had ever seen. Stockings, the lot. Well, that wasn’t quite true, Buffy had quite a bit of raunchy underwear herself, but she didn’t go around flashing other women with it. Was Anya coming on to her as well? She took a step back.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

“Who?” Buffy’s nonchalance towards Anya was beginning to wear a bit thin.

“William. I’m going to surprise him later on.”

“He’s a man, Anya. Yeah, he’ll like it, and I’m sure he’ll be very surprised. Very surprised indeed.” She raised her voice for the last bit and she could have sworn she heard a choking noise from the bathroom. Anya turned round, and Buffy held her breath. At least Anya didn’t seem to have noticed Spike’s sweatshirt, which was still lying on the floor where it had landed.

“You want to get them to see to those pipes. Gosh Buffy, you must have the most expensive room in this place. Look at that bed.” Anya sauntered over to the four poster and jumped up onto it. “Hey, we could have an orgy on this.” She jumped off again, obviously catching the look Buffy was giving her. “Goodness, loosen up, Buffy. You’re so straight laced. Want me to set you up with someone?” She thought for a moment, completely ignoring Buffy’s attempted protests. “Riley Finn, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he’s probably kind of desperate. He could take you to the Banquet.”

“No.” Buffy virtually grabbed hold of Anya, managing to kick the sweatshirt under the bed as she did so, and shepherded her towards the door. “No Riley, please. I’m happy as I am Anya. Don’t need a boyfriend right now, thank you.”

“Everyone reacts like that at the mention of Riley.” Anya shrugged. “Wonder what it is about him, he’s not that bad looking.”

Buffy had to virtually shove her out of the door. “If you don’t mind Anya, I need to take a shower.”

Anya took the hint. “Honestly Buffy, you’d think you had a man in there the way you’re behaving. Where is he, in the wardrobe?”

“Yeah, they’re all in there. You know, the whole group. I’d ask you to stay, but hey...”

Anya laughed and gave her a playful, but rather hard punch on the shoulder. “You’ve got a sense of humour after all. Well, I can’t stand here talking, the meeting’s in fifteen minutes. See you downstairs.”

Buffy closed the door on her at last, then she went into the bathroom. Spike was sitting on the side of the bath, his arms folded, a bored look on his face.

“Has she gone?”

“Yeah, thought I’d never get rid of her.” Buffy looked at her watch. “Well, that’s our spontaneous moment gone.”

“You think?” Spike got up and moved towards her with that swagger he was so good at. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Buffy didn’t put up much of a fight. So she’d have to sit through the meeting with a big grin on her face more than likely, but hey, she had Spike, and Anya didn’t. And that was a secret worth having.


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Spike looked at himself in the mirror. More hair gel, that’s what it needed. He squeezed a generous dollop onto his hand and ran it through his hair, encouraging it to stand up. Bloody medieval banquet. He was only going because Buffy was. He really wanted to see her in that dress, and if he was truthful with himself, also wanted to keep an eye on the other students. He hadn’t missed how the lads had been drooling hopefully after her. She’d given them no encouragement, of course, but they obviously though she was unattached. Maybe he could pull rank on them to sit next to her, without making it too obvious. He took out his mobile phone and dialled her number.


“Hi darling, it’s me, yeah, love you too. Look make sure you sit next to me tonight.”

“What? No, I’m not jealous, well, yeah, I might be a bit. What are you wearing? Yeah, the dress, and underneath?”

“They didn’t?” Spike felt himself getting hot. “Gonna give me a sneak preview?”

“Aww, spoilsport, okay see you downstairs.”

He flicked his phone closed. Now he had that visual to think about all evening. Medieval underwear, or the absence of it. She certainly knew how to get his motor revving, which was good. He just wished he didn’t have so much work to do this weekend. If the prof was up to his usual tricks, he’d bugger off with his new boyfriend and leave it all to him. He locked his door and went downstairs to the lounge. Buffy was sitting on a sofa talking with some of the other students and she looked absolutely gorgeous. Just like he’d imagined her when he’d called her a fairy princess at the well-house. Enchanting, that was the word. She turned and gave him a look that started as a smile but changed to one of barely contained surprised.


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


He looked great. He always did, Buffy thought, but she really wished he’d dressed in costume. He was going to stand out like a sore thumb. Nobody wore combat boots to a medieval banquet, and the hair? It looked like he’d used a whole tube of gel on it. Very trendy, but totally the wrong period by about eight hundred years. Anya poked her in the ribs with her elbow.

“He is so going to get it tonight.”

“Get what?” Buffy hoped she didn’t mean what she thought she meant.

“From the jester, the MC. They always choose someone to pick on, you know, make jokes about. And it is so going to be William. What’s he done to his hair?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy affected a nonchalant air. “I kinda like it. Bad boy image and all. I guess girls go for that.”

Anya glared at her for a couple of seconds before pasting a cheesy smile on her face. “But you’re not interested, right? Said you didn’t want a boyfriend.”

“But he’s so yummy. Do you think he’d go for an American?”

Anya nearly choked. So much so that Buffy had to thump her on the back. “Calm down Anya, I’m only teasing you. No-go area, remember?”

Anya managed to get herself under control, but she continued to give Buffy suspicious glances. “Don’t know where you got that idea, Buffy. Where do you think the prof is now?”

Buffy didn’t want to know. She looked up, noticing that the rest of the group had begun to make their way to the Great Hall. Suddenly Spike was standing in front of her.

“May I have the pleasure of escorting you in to dinner?”

Buffy and Anya both stood up at the same time.

“Er, both of you, of course.” He crooked both of his elbows and Buffy took one side, while Anya latched on to the other.

Anya let out a howl of laughter. “Oh my god, look at Andrew. He looks a complete prat.”

“Shh, he’ll hear you.” Buffy managed not to laugh, but Andrew did look totally ridiculous. The tights were much too big, so that they sagged around his knees and he had an enormous multi-coloured cod-piece that made him look unfeasibly well-endowed. Along with the curly toed shoes, he made quite a spectacle.

“I thought he was supposed to be Robin Hood.”

Buffy shrugged, hoping that Andrew wasn’t going to sit anywhere near them. They were going to have enough problems with Spike drawing attention to them.


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


By the time he’d downed his fifth glass of mead, Spike was feeling thoroughly pissed off with the Jester. He’d started on him the minute he’d sat down and he hadn’t let up once. Now he was trying to get Spike to join in with the dancing, just so he could make some more of his stupid-ass jokes, Spike thought. He was dying to go to the bathroom, but he knew that the moment he got up the spotlight would be on him again. He allowed the buxom serving wench to fill up his glass again, hoping he was going to be able to control himself in the face of such provocation. It wouldn’t do to show himself up in front of the undergrads, but if that bloody jester didn’t piss off, then he was going to clock him one there and then.

“Come on love, don’t be shy.” The jester was as gay as they came, or at least he sounded it. He ruffled Spike’s hair. “Ooh, it’s stiff tonight. I’ll be seeing to that later.”

Andrew, who had managed to get on the other side of Spike, let out a huge guffaw at that and spat his drink all over him, causing Spike to nearly fall off his chair. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” He grabbed a napkin and started wiping at Spike’s chest. Spike had to practically fight him off.

The jester opened his mouth to say something else but Spike gave him such an evil look that he closed it again and moved on to Buffy.

“My lady has been in the wars,” he said pointing to her cheek. “But your loveliness remains untouched.” He took Buffy’s hand and made her stand up. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our Queen of Love and Beauty.” He led a rather bemused looking Buffy up to the stage and sat her on one of the two thrones. “Now we need a king.”

The minute Buffy vacated her seat, Anya moved into it. “Riley Finn.” She shouted it so loud that Spike jumped. Bloody hell, now he wasn’t even going to get to sit next to Buffy. And the jester was all over her. Hands everywhere. He was definitely pretending to be gay.

“Riley Finn.” Anya clapped her hands and encouraged everyone to take up the chant. Riley was dutifully found and hauled up onto the stage.

Spike spent the rest of the evening drinking far too much mead, trapped between Anya and Andrew, who just ‘accidentally’ kept touching his leg, and gazing forlornly at Buffy who hadn’t been allowed to leave the stage.

After an ugly encounter in the men’s toilets, during which he’d threatened to remove some of the jester’s more private parts, he hauled himself off to bed, feeling very sorry for himself, threw off his clothes and waited.

Two hours later he hear the bed creak and he rolled over and reached out for Buffy, smiling to himself as he thought of what she wasn’t wearing under that dress. He put his arms around her as she crawled over him and he threaded his hands into her hair. Which she’d cut? He may have been drunk, but he definitely remembered Buffy having long hair. The woman above him moaned and latched her mouth onto his. He shot his arm out in panic and groped for the bedside lamp. As the light came on, he twisted away and was confronted by a very drunk looking and extremely scantily-clad Anya straddling his thighs. She wasn’t about to let go either. Her mouth came down on his once more and she latched on so tight that it made a loud popping sound as he pulled her off.

“I know you want me William.” She grabbed his face and tried to pull him back in for another kiss. “I’m all yours.”


Spike scooted up towards the headboard. “Anya, what are you doing?”

“This.” She flung herself back on him with abandon, leaving a slobbery trail across his face, and then the door opened and the real Buffy appeared. Spike caught her eye as she put her hand over her mouth and backed hastily out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Anya meanwhile, had collapsed onto his chest and was snoring lightly. Spike pushed her off and she landed in an untidy heap on the other side of the bed. He stared at her, and then at the door.

Boy was he was in trouble.





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