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Chapter 22

Author's note. Many thanks to LadyAnne, my beta for writing the fic "Lancelot and Guinevere" that provided the inspiration for this next chapter.


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After the trip to the pub most of the group wanted to go on to a night club in the next town. Spike declined their invitation to join them because he had work to catch up on, and someone actually commented that Buffy looked tired, which gave her the perfect excuse not to go either. That left Buffy and Spike and another couple who had hooked up during the trip. They talked for a few moments until it was obvious that the couple wanted to be left alone, so Spike rose and handed Buffy her coat.

“Come on Buffy, I’ll walk you back. See you tomorrow, guys.”

They walked out into a crisp, moonlit night where everything seemed to be washed with silver. Buffy shivered and Spike slipped his arm around her as they made their way down the lane that led to the hotel.

“Have you enjoyed the trip?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, it’s been interesting.”

Spike stopped and turned her to face him. “I am so sorry about Anya.”

“I know, Spike. You’ve got to get over it. You wouldn’t have done anything, would you?”

“No, of course not. You didn’t think I would have, did you?”

“No, I trust you Spike, and I love you very, very much.” She went up on tip-toe for a kiss and for a few moments they were both lost in it.

They resumed their stroll, Buffy marvelling at how beautiful the distant hills looked, washed in moonlight. She wondered if Spike was worried that he might have done something with Anya. He had been very drunk last night, but she rejected the thought. She did trust Spike implicitly, but she was having a hard time convincing him of that.

“Spike.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve still got the dress.”

“Yeah.” His fingers gripped her arm slightly.

“I could put it on for you. You didn’t really get to appreciate it last night.”

“No, I didn’t, Buffy I’m...”

“Spike, don’t say you’re sorry again. You are so forgiven.”

“Okay, I won’t mention it again, promise.”

“So, what was that medieval fantasy you were dreaming about? I’m open to suggestions.”

“You are? It was something I read on the Internet. A fanfic actually.”

“You read fanfiction on the Internet?”

“And you don’t?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, not the slightest bit embarrassed by his admission.

“Well, yeah. What was it about?”

“Well, there was this couple right, and he loved her, and she loved him.”

“With you so far, Spike.”

“But, she thought being with him was wrong, but she couldn’t stay away, so she made up this little fantasy about them being Lancelot and Guinevere. Then they could be together, and somehow it didn’t seem wrong because they weren’t themselves.”

“But that’s not us, Spike. There’s nothing wrong with us being together, well apart from not being able to tell anyone about us this weekend.” She nodded. “Yeah, I sort of see where you’re coming from.”

“How do you fancy being Guinevere to my Lancelot, just for tonight?”

They reached the steps of the hotel and went inside.

“Did it have a happy ending, Spike?”

“Don’t know yet. From the way it’s playing out, I suspect not.”

Buffy wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “But we will, won’t we?” She couldn’t keep the note of anxiety out of her voice. Role playing, simple as this suggestion was, always involved a lot of trust. She trusted Spike, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted of her here.

“Count on it Buff. Heck, there’s the prof, I’ll have to say hello. Look, why don’t you go upstairs and, umm get changed. I’ll join you in a minute.”

She entered her room, took off her clothes and slipped into the dress. She’d worn a low-cut bra last night, but she didn’t tonight. Luckily the dress had a well shaped bodice that gave some support, but she so very rarely went bra-less that it felt strange. She looked at herself in the mirror, cupping her breasts and letting them drop. Perky enough to get away with it. Then she set about her hair. It ought to be down, she thought, taking out the clips and reaching for her brush.

And then there was that other piece of underwear. She knew what he really wanted, although she’d been the one to plant the thought in his head. She finished brushing her hair, then wriggled out of her panties and stuffed them into her case. Going pantie-less was definitely something she’d never done before, and she was amazed at how erotic the soft velvet felt against her bare skin. At least they didn’t have to worry about visible panty lines in those days, she thought, inspecting her rear view in the mirror. Would she have been able to go to the banquet like this, and would anybody have been able to tell? Poor Spike. He must have worked himself up into a frenzy thinking about it, and then that jester had grabbed her and kept her on the stage all evening. No wonder he’d got himself so drunk. And where was he? Who’d have thought going medieval would be such a turn-on. She lifted the skirt and let it slide down her legs, then twirled around. Come on Lancelot, where are you?

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Spike opened Buffy’s door and called softly to her. The room was dark, except for the bedside lamp, which illuminated Buffy’s form on the bed. She was propped up against the pillows and wearing the dress, the light making a sort of halo around her head. He felt his pulse start to race as he moved towards her, all thoughts of fantasy role-playing disappearing beneath the need to be inside her right now. It was starting to seem like an eternity since he’d made love to her and Lancelot would just have to wait. He grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and tee-shirt together and pulled them over his head, dropping them on the floor as he walked over to the bed. Then unlaced his boots and kicked them aside as his hand moved to her ankle and began to slowly slide the material up her leg, sensuously caressing her silky skin with the velvet. He climbed up beside her, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, which were suddenly much too tight for comfort, and his breath started coming in short gasps as he watched his hand travelling higher and higher, and felt her legs moving restlessly under his attention.

“My lord is very late. Where has thou been?”

She startled him out of his daze. “Uhh?”

“Has thou been with a serving wench?”

“What, a who? No.” Spike tried to refocus on what his hand was doing but Buffy’s big grin was somewhat putting him off.

“Why art thou wearing such strange attire, my Lancelot?”

“Umm,” Spike looked down at his jeans. “I’m from the future.”

Buffy exploded with laughter and rolled over on to her side. “Cans’t thou not do better than that?”

“No, I cans’tn’t. Bloody hell, what kind of word is that?” He sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t working. Buffy couldn’t keep a straight face, and now he was feeling a bit of a prat. All he wanted to do was find out what she had under the dress, then take it off her.

Buffy rolled onto her back and composed herself. “Okay, let’s try again, call me by my name.”

“Buffy.”

“Not that one, come on Spike, this was your idea.”

“Guinevere.”

“Yes my Lord.”

“Umm, what art thou wearing under, umm, thy dress?”

“That’s no question to ask a lady, my lord.”

“And art thou a lady?” he said, his hand moving in to finish what it had started.

“Yes I bloody well art,” Buffy said, mimicking his accent. Then she doubled up and exploded with laughter once more. “I’m sorry Spike, I can’t do this. I keep thinking of you in tights, and...eek.”

Spike unzipped his jeans and rolled her onto her back, then he grabbed the skirt, pushed it up to her waist and moved on top of her. “Sod Lancelot," he said, capturing her mouth with his. He felt her hands pushing his jeans down, and he reached down to help her. He kicked them off with a little difficulty, and groped in the back pocket for a condom, since she hadn’t said it was safe to go without one yet, then he sheathed himself and settled between her thighs. Her ankles went around his waist, locking him to her as he slowly slid inside.

He didn’t think he’d last long, and he didn’t, but he did manage to remember to say Guinevere instead of Buffy as he gasped out his release, and he was vaguely aware of her almost screaming the word Lancelot as she clamped around him and sent him to his own special heaven. When he’d got enough breath back to talk, he lifted his head and grinned at her. She grinned back at him, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“God, Guin, you’ll be the death of me if you keep doing that.”

“Verily, but what a way to go, my Lancelot.”

“Yeah, verily.” He let his head fall back onto her breasts and started nuzzling them gently, his hand sweeping up her thigh and over her hip.

“By the way, love your medieval underwear.”

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Two days later, Spike and Xander were just finishing up working on the computer game.

“And then she turned up apparently. Buffy’s only just told me.” Spike picked up his coat and followed Xander out of his flat. “Nice job, Xan, You finished that contract work yet?"

“Yeah, mostly.” Xander waited while Spike locked up. “You gonna tell me what the deal is about Dru?”

“I already did, mate. She’s into something bad. Don’t know what exactly, you know what she can be like.”

They strolled the few hundred yards to the pub, Xander pumping Spike for information about Dru, and Spike reluctantly telling him.

“You should have told me this a long time ago, Spike. Who is this Johnny guy? I ought to go punch his lights out.”

“Whoa.” Spike stopped and turned to his friend. "He’s big-time, Xan. Got Dru and her friends running around him like minions, but that’s just a front. Like’s to make out he’s just one of the regulars, but he’s not.”

“What, we’re talking gangsters here?”

Xander was starting to look genuinely worried and Spike was beginning to wish they’d never started this conversation.

“We might be, I don’t know.” They reached the pub and walked inside. Spike fished in his pocket for some money. “How is Dru?” He had to ask, hadn’t abandoned her completely.

“Crazy as ever, crazier if that’s possible. Spike, why didn’t you tell me all this?”

Spike caught the barmaid's eye and ordered two pints. “So you’d do what? Get yourself beaten up?”

Xander accepted the beer and followed Spike to a table. “It’s better than doing nothing, Spike. She’s in trouble, and she needs us.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Dru had always done her own thing. Gone her own way. Short of putting her in a cage, there was no stopping her.

“Look, Xan, do you want me to talk to her?" Spike didn’t relish the thought, but he knew that’s what Xander really wanted.

“Would you, I mean, would it do any good?”

“Probably not, if she’s addicted Xan, then it’s not a talking problem any more.”

“I know.” Xander ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up at odd angles. “What if me and you go and see Johnny together? We’ve got to do something Spike. Go to the police or something. Get him put away.”

“Yeah.” Spike got out his cigarettes. "Supposed to be giving these up. Buffy’d kill me if she saw me. There’s something else, Xan. I’m pretty sure Dru’s been dealing too. Johnny goes down, then she does.“

“Bloody hell. Anything else you didn’t you tell me?” Xander was starting to look distraught. He took a large gulp of his drink, then slammed the glass back down on the table, sending beer sloshing everywhere. Several people looked round to see what the commotion was and Spike had to grab Xander’s arm to stop him getting up.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going to see Johnny.” He shook Spike’s hand off, kicked back his chair and took off towards the exit.

Spike took a hasty swig of his own beer and followed him. Xander had no idea what he was messing with, but if he was insisting on doing this, he owed it to him to be by his side. He caught up with Xamder just outside the pub, narrowly avoiding being run over by a black, stretch limo that was just cruising past. The car stopped and a suited gentleman got out.

“William Giles?”

Spike stopped in his tracks. “Who’s asking?” The suited gent did not look friendly. In fact, Spike knew exactly what he looked like. One look at Xander’s face, and he knew that Xander was thinking the same thing. Spike backed up slowly, his hands up, palms forward. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We’ll just be on our way.” He glanced around as another identically dressed gentleman got out of the other side of the limo.

“We just need you to come for a short ride, sir. Get in the car, please.”

“Sod off.” Spike was starting to sweat now. He tried to back up, but they were on either side of him, and before Xander could help him he was pushed into the car in one smooth move and they were away.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he demanded, sounding more confident than he felt as he stared at the two enormous men flanking him. There was no way he was going to beat then in a fight.

“Did Johnny send you?”

The first big man looked at him innocently. “Who, sir?”

“Johnny. Drug-dealer.” Spike waved his hand around the car. “This is just about his style. What the hell does he want with me?”

The second gent flicked a catch and a drinks’ cabinet appeared in the back of the seat in front of them.

“Why don’t you have a drink and relax.” He picked up a bottle. “Good vintage, this.” Then he gave Spike a benevolent smile.

“The boss just wants a little word with you, sir, that’s all. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”





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