King of Hearts

King of Hearts
Chapter 14: Coronation Day Part 2


Author's note: So here's the final chapter. A big thank you to Mariana and Kar, my betas for KoH, who have done the greatest job ever! And of course to all my avid readers. You'll get extra points if you spot the Pride and Prejudice reference Mariana slipped in.
My new story "The Favourite" goes online on Friday, 02/28. See you then!


Arriving at the parking lot of Buckingham Palace, Spike ran into Lady Charlotte.
"You're back," she gasped surprised. "Thought you were at the Abbey!"
"I was," Spike admitted, "But I thought you were going to stay hidden, in case one of the guards noticed you left the palace in two occasions!"
"I was going to," Lady Charlotte apologized, "But Buffy Summers asked me to drive her to Westminster Abbey, she said she needed to talk to you about something utterly important, that it couldn’t wait another minute!" She frowned glancing at Wesley's tiny Austin mini. "Is that supposed to be a car?"
Spike's expression was one of comical despair. "Give me your keys," he ordered.
Lady Charlotte sighed in resignation, handing him the keys. "Your majesty, please, drive carefully." Though he couldn’t tell if it was for his or the car’s benefit. He just shrugged and left her there.
*

Given what Lady Charlotte had told her, Buffy was not surprised to find Westminster Abbey not locked at this time of night. She looked around. It was very dark. She slowly approached the altar, that’s when she heard voices, one male, one female, giggling and... what was that? It couldn’t be…was it…singing?

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy
When skies are grey,
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take my sunshine away.

Buffy spotted the couple among the pews, clearly involved in some serious smooching. To her relief, she saw it was Lady Winifred with... Wesley? "Okay," Buffy said, "Definitely not the next pop idol."
They both looked up, smiling at her.
"Sorry," Lady Winifred giggled, "It's just... I wanted to know if there was an echo in here if you sung really loudly."
Buffy shook her head in disbelief and gave the pair of lovebirds an honest smile. "I'm looking for your... fiancé," she said.
Fred beamed at her and held out the hand with her brand new ring. "I'm engaged to Wes now," she told her, as a matter of fact.
"Oh." Apart from that single word, Buffy was speechless. And incredibly relieved, which was showing little by little on her face.
"Buffy," Wesley said, surprised. "Thought you wanted to go back to America!"
"Change of plans," Buffy explained, nervously wringing her hands. "At least for now. Listen, I'm happy for you guys, really am, congratulations! But even though I hate to rush you on your happy moment,... I need to find Spike. I'm not leaving England until I get the chance to talk to him."
Wesley gave her a commiserating glance. "That's awful. I told Spike you were at Heathrow. He went to look for you. Really, what an unfortunate mishap "
"No, no, no, no!" Buffy moaned.

*

Buffy was desperate, she didn't know what to do. After paying for her drinks at the airport, she did not have enough money for a cab, and Lady Charlotte had left because, I mean, really, who in their sane minds would leave Buffy in charge of car, most of all in England, when, apart from all the technicalities of driving one, you had to do it on the other side of the road!! And in addition to that she was freezing, she was running out of time and out of ideas and if she became hungry and in need of a bathroom, there would be WW3 on the works. She decided to walk to the nearest underground station with a working cash machine, which was, to her dismay, not Westminster. From a sightseeing tour with her dad, Buffy remembered vaguely that there was another station near the London Eye that could have one. Sighing, Buffy began to walk that way, past Whitehall and the Houses of Parliament. That was when the rain started.
"Great," Buffy remarked. She was a Southern Californian, how was she supposed to remember taking her umbrella when she left the palace? Besides, supposedly at this time, she would be on her way home. More sighs.
Buffy crossed the river Thames just when she heard The Big Ben strike two. At least, this night of pilling troubles was going to end soon. The place below the majestic London Eye was deserted. However, it was guarded during the night, for fear of terrorists or suicidal madmen. The police officers gave Buffy a suspicious glance as she walked past the Eye, all alone, her wet clothes sticking to her body, thankful for not wearing white, her expression one of hatred against the whole world, particularly herself for not talking to Spike earlier.
She had no eyes for the beauty of London at night, all the lights mirrored in the river, and the white steel construction of the giant observing wheel a sharp contrast against the sky above. Buffy realized she no longer had the energy to go back to Heathrow, or to walk just another step. Exhausted and hopeless, Buffy sank down on the stairs leading up to the Eye. She buried her head in her hands and began to sob silently.
Buffy had no idea how long she sat there, lost in sorrow and taking some comfort in crying, until one of the police officers guarding the Eye, approached her, obviously having had enough of her.
"Miss... Excuse me... no loitering," someone addressed her.
Buffy wiped away her tears. "Sorry," she said, blowing her nose, "I've been having a bad day."
"So have I," Spike replied.
Buffy looked up at him, not believing her eyes, her expression one of utter shock, as if she had seen a ghost. His face was red with exertion; his hair was all wet with rain, as were his clothes.
The rain was still pouring down on them.
"I know about Dru," Buffy blurted out, sobbing harder, "And about Fred, that it was all arranged, that you wanted to protect me... God, why didn't you come to me..." She approached him slowly, cautiously, still thinking he was just a figment of her imagination, meanwhile more and more of her tears fell mingling with the rain.
Spike did not reply.
There was no need for words.
Buffy looked at Spike as if she was seeing him for the very first time.
She was too distracted to notice the slight nod of his head.
All the lights of the Eye went on at once, the wheel coming to life like magic. From the loudspeakers normally used for announcements, Buffy heard her favourite song, Wind Beneath My Wings. Buffy's eyes widened, marvelling at the sudden change of her world. Spike smiled at her reaction. Sometimes it wasn't so dreadful being the King of England. You could fetch people from out of their beds at the dead of the night and make them operate a tourist attraction long past its closing time, for a private getaway.
He extended his hand in a gentlemanly manner and led her to one of the glass capsules. An assistant closed the door behind them, and slowly, the wheel began to turn, rising above the Houses of Parliament, the raindrops drying away on the glass walls surrounding them.
Buffy had never 'flown' the Eye before, she had always considered it a tourist thing and had no desire nor patience to queue for an hour for tickets and another one for admission. Now the city of London lay at her feet, all her troubles seemed to have stayed on the ground, light years away.
Spike waited until they had reached the highest point of the wheel, and Buffy had walked around the capsule once to get a look down from every perspective. Only then did he pull her close and kissed her.
Buffy clung to him as if her life depended on it, and in some way, it did. She could smell the rainwater on him, she felt his breath on her skin. He held her so tightly she could hardly move, but she could not care less. He loved her. He had moved heaven and earth to find her tonight and had arranged all this... Suddenly reality caught up with her. He had been able to arrange all this because he was still the king. She ought to care! They had to talk about Drusilla, about the coronation, the assassin, the future...
"Spike," she whispered. "We have to..."
"Later," he replied and pinned her against the glass, running his hands over her body. He saw her anxious glance. "Told them to stop the wheel for half an hour as soon as we were at the top." He slowly removed her dress, careful not to rip it from her body, and steadied her against the glass.
Buffy looked at the glass suspiciously. Would it hold if she was, I don’t know, let’s say, hypothetically speaking, slammed against it with their entire weight at the height of their passion?
Spike seemed to read her mind. "Don't panic, the glass is solid. It would hold even if you were leaning against it while being fucked by a whole cricket team."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Cricket team..."
He sighed. "Y'know, that sounded much more erotic in my head."
Buffy risked a glance down at the bridge below. "Can they see us from down there?"
"Guess not. We're too high. Not enough perspective and all that rot."
"Half an hour you said?" Buffy asked suggestively.
Spike nodded. "I'm sorry we haven't got longer. That's just not nearly enough time to do everything that is prohibited in this country. But I can still try." He began to unbuckle his belt.
The sound alone made Buffy shiver in anticipation, but she had to ask. "Here? Are you sure?"
Spike shrugged. "I'd love to take you to my bedroom at Buckingham Palace and ravish you all night, but you said it yourself, we have to be careful."
Buffy shivered as he pressed her against the glass. "That's right," she whispered, unbuttoning his jeans with fleeting fingers. "Just wondering what's next. I mean, we’ve already baptized the Tower, the Chamber of Horrors, the London Eye... maybe the Windsor family crypt will be next?"
"Is that a suggestion?" he asked with a smirk.
"No," Buffy said so quickly and with such a shocked expression he had to try very hard not to burst into laughter and ruin the mood.
"Hold the railing with both hands," Spike told her, "And don't let go. Don’t you ever let go." He said that last part in a much more serious tone than the mood at present while looking longingly at her.
Buffy was puzzled, but she put her hands on the cold metal railing.
He stood right in front of her, his hands taking hold of her thighs, lifting her gently towards him and entering her ever so slowly. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her shoulders against the glass, clutching the railing hard. He held her with his left arm, while his right hand slid between her legs toward the juncture of her thighs.
Buffy felt little flashes of passionate lightning shaking her to the core. She wanted to touch him, but was too scared to let go of the railing and lose her balance. So she had no choice but to do as was told. He kept teasing her, unmoving inside her, running his fingertips along her folds and over her clit ever so slightly, but enough to drive her insane. She arched against him, drawing him closer with her legs, yet Spike gave no sign he was going to end her torture anytime soon. He moved his fingers in a circle around her clit, occasionally increasing the pressure for a second, then again merely caressing her, covering her neck and shoulders with small kisses. Buffy's cheeks reddened, her breaths became frequent and shallow, moisture gushed over his fingers and cock. And Spike did the unspeakable: he slowed down. Buffy moaned in frustration. She was in no way in contact with the floor of the capsule, and was held in place only by her hands on the cold railing and Spike's body. She was so aroused she could hardly breathe so she let her head fall back to ease some of her tension.
"Open your eyes," he said softly.
Buffy obeyed grudgingly. The rain clouds were gone. They were still on top of the world, a thousand lights below and the stars above them, and they were in between, in a world of their own, in a heart of glass.
Spike continued to stroke her gently, pushing her, finally, to Buffy’s obvious relief, over the edge. With a silent scream, Buffy let go off the railing and clasped at his shoulders. They crashed against the glass, Buffy wasn’t even aware of the cold of the glass against her skin, she was floating among the stars, coming hard, while Spike thrust her against the capsule walls several times, unmistakably claiming her as his after all the time they had been apart.

*

"We're almost down," Buffy shrieked in alarm when the aftershocks of her orgasms began to fade, "We've gotta dress!"
Spike looked at her in disappointment. "We could go another round," he suggested.
Buffy smiled. "Tempting offer. But the night's almost over, and we're not done yet."
He grinned. "Damn right. We're not done yet." He tried to kiss her, but Buffy pushed him away giving him a stern look and pulled her dress over her head again. "Hurry, we'll have to get off in a minute!"
"I don't think it takes a minute to get you off," he commented.
Buffy tossed him his jeans. "Shut up," she said, but her face betrayed how much she enjoyed their playful bantering.
He pouted and began to dress.
Buffy kissed the tip of his nose. "Don't look at me like that, we can do that again some time soon!"
Spike felt it was not the right moment to tell her he was planning to renounce and did not reply.
As Buffy predicted, the capsule door slid open a few moments later. The cool breeze made Buffy shiver, she pressed her body against Spike to ease the effect of the sudden cold.
The staff exchanged meaningful looks. Buffy suddenly realized why and blushed. The capsule obviously was made of glass and in a most Titanic like style had gotten steamed, but instead of a trailing hand, there was one spot that clearly showed the impression of a delectable female backside.
"Thanks, I really appreciate you coming here at this hour just for me," Spike told the staff.
One of the assistants handed Spike a piece of paper. "It was our pleasure, Your Majesty."
As they were walking towards the limo Spike had ordered, Buffy craned her neck to look at the piece of paper. "What's that?"
"You wouldn't want to know."
"Let me see!" Buffy quickly snatched the paper from his hand... and blushed even more furiously. It was a sheet of photo paper from a laser printer. The souvenir photo taken of every capsule on the way back down by a digital camera. It was enough to say that it was a very special souvenir not just for them but begrudgingly, in Buffy’s mind, for the staff as well.
Spike pocketed it without commenting any further.
"That's gonna be in the SUN tomorrow!" Buffy complained.
"I don't care," Spike said, "Now let's get back to Buckingham Palace, I haven't packed yet."
Buffy stopped immediately and stared at him. "Packed?"
"Yeah, packed. Buffy, I'm not going to my execution today. If I resign, they have no reason to shoot me, and Dru..."
Buffy hesitated. "Spike, I wanted to tell you right away when you arrived, but…you see…mmm… Dru lied to you. She's having Liam's baby. He told me himself."
His face fell.
"I'm so sorry," Buffy whispered. "But there's no doubt. She was using you, and you were..."
"... thick enough to fall for it!" Spike exclaimed.
"... honest enough to trust in what your first love told you and honourable enough to take responsibility for your actions! Spike, look at me. That's not thick. That's all noble, it's what a real king would do."
Spike's expression was one of utter despair. "So I put you through all of this for nothing! The charade with Fred..."
"Why didn't you talk to me?"
"I meant to... But when I was in hospital, and you didn't want to see me..."
"WHAT?" Buffy shook her head. "I asked to see you like a hundred times! They didn't let me into the ward. You were too sick to receive visitors but of course you were not too sick to see Fred. You could have asked to see me as well."
"I did," Spike insisted, "Every day! They told me you never came, not even once."
Buffy frowned. "I was at the hospital every single day. Who told you I didn't ask to see you?"
"And who told you I was too ill to see you?"

*

Sir Rupert was working late. Even he had underestimated the amount of paperwork a coronation caused. He did not react to the faint knock at his office door at first.
"Open up, dad! I know you're in there!" Buffy's voice sounded through the door.
"Oh my goodness, Buffy," Sir Rupert gasped, put his glasses back on and unlocked the door. "Thought you were in..." He gaped at Buffy and Spike standing in front of his door, holding hands. "Your Majesty," he said coolly.
"You'd better invite us in, father," Buffy said in a dangerously low voice. "You wouldn't want to discuss this in the corridor where the servants could hear us."
Sir Rupert stepped aside and closed the door behind them.
He leaned at his desk and began to clean his glasses with a red and white handkerchief. "I take it you broke up your engagement to Lady Winifred," he said evenly.
"You owe me an explanation," Spike demanded. "It was you who urged me into that engagement, it was you who encouraged me to find myself another heir, and why? Just because you didn't like me dating your daughter? C'mon, Rupert! You were supposed to help me. You should have advised me to ask Dru for a test before running off to marry Fred! You should have prevented me from doing something so stupid!"
"Right, because you always listen to my advice," Sir Rupert snorted.
Buffy glared at him, but there was much more hurt and disappointment in her gaze than rage. "You lied to me," she reproached him. "You said Spike didn't ask to see me when he was hospitalized. You made me believe he was in love with Fred, and that I was just a distraction. You made me feel like a courtesan. I am so disappointed in you."
"We've already had more than one messed-up love life in this house," Sir Rupert explained. "As harsh as this may sound, Buffy, you are technically beneath the king. I didn't want you to be the king's lover just like so many women have done in the past, without the prospect of his ever holding your hand in public or acknowledging your children. I just wanted you to be happy, Buffy. "
"That's all I want as well," Spike told him.
"So this is the part when you abandon your duties and your country to be with your one true love?" Sir Rupert asked with bitter irony.
"That was the main idea, yeah," Spike confirmed.
"Then you are right, and I have made a terrible mistake indeed." Sir Rupert avoided to look at Spike and kept cleaning his glasses more furiously.
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Spike snapped.
"I did what I had to do because you had already run away once. I feared you would do it again in order to be with Buffy, and this time, you would not be coming back. I couldn't run the risk."
Spike shook his head in contempt. "Why, because I'm too good a king to let me go?"
When Sir Rupert did not reply and kept his eyes on his task, Spike realized he had hit the nail on the head. "Bloody hell," Spike said, almost snorting given the absurdity of what he was being told, "You can't be serious! From the moment I stepped over the threshold, you've been pointing out every single mistake, you've been telling me I'm rude, my language is bad, I suck at polo, I don't know our traditions nor our history, I don't know when to keep my big mouth shut on politics, all in all, you've been making it pretty clear that I'm a disgrace, and now you're saying..."
"There is always room for improvement," Sir Rupert said diplomatically. "But, truth be told, your subjects love you. They love you all the more for your faults. As improbable as this may seem, because you show them a kind soul in such a rigid and distant station... and you care about them as well. The British monarchy has not been that popular among the people since the Renaissance. We have had many great kings and queens throughout the years, but it has been a long time since there has been a human being on that throne."
"So you didn't want to break us up because you were afraid of losing me," Buffy realized, "You just didn't wanna lose Spike!"
"I did not want England to lose a sovereign, again," Sir Rupert corrected her. He sighed. "It appears my efforts have been in vain."
Buffy's eyes sparkled. "Not necessarily. I got an idea."
"Good Lord!"
Buffy turned to Spike. "You have to go to that coronation. You can't quit now. If you leave and abdicate, the assassin wins. Evil can't win! You're a good king, and I'm not just saying this as your girlfriend, it must be true when my dad takes so much trouble just to keep you."
Spike shook his head. "I don't know. What about us?"
Buffy smiled. "We'll find a way. Maybe you can make me a dame or something. We'll deal with that tomorrow, after your coronation."
"Buffy," Spike said carefully, "If I attend my coronation tomorrow, it's very likely that I'll get shot! We don't know jack about the assassin."
Buffy looked at her watch. "We need to find out who had a good reason to want you dead, who was at the polo match, at the opera and had access to the drinks at the ballroom. So, who wants you dead? An old lover? An enemy? Someone who..." She blinked. "Dad, who would become king if Spike died without an heir?"
Sir Rupert shrugged. "Truth to be told... I have no idea. The order of succession is a very complex structure as soon as direct family is no longer eligible. When a monarch dies childless, the royal genealogy records have to be consulted in detail."
"Where are those records?" Buffy asked.
"At the British National Library," Sir Rupert replied.
Buffy nodded. "Then that's where we're going."
Spike looked at her in wonder. And he had thought he had been born a leader.
"Buffy, wait," Sir Rupert said, "Those records date back to the eighth century. In theory, it could take weeks to find out..."
"We have three hours," Buffy stated matter-of-factly. "Spike, get those books delivered here immediately, no matter who you have to wake up. I'll call Xander, Willow and Anya and ask them for help. They're big on research."
Spike went to follow Buffy's instructions.
Sir Rupert looked at Buffy expectantly. "What can I do?" he asked quietly, almost bashful. "I want to help."
Buffy nodded. "You can make some coffee."

*

An hour later, the turning of pages and Willow's fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop were the only sounds in Spike's office. The redhead was googling frantically on her computer while the others were gathering the data for her, taking notes.
"...your mother's cousin-in-law would be... is there such a thing as a cousin-in-law?" Buffy pouted in despair, turning one dusty page after the other.
Spike was watching her over the record he was studying and smiled.
"What's so funny?" Buffy asked.
"Nothin'," Spike replied.
"Then stop staring at me," Buffy chided him, blushing. She got so nervous she dropped the record and made to kneel beside his chair to pick it up, when Spike pulled her onto his lap, running his hand through her golden hair.
Willow beamed at Xander. "Don't they look smashing together?"
"Yeah," Xander grunted from behind a record. He hit the book with his fist, so hard it made Buffy jump. "How are we supposed to find something in those thick never-ending torturing minds devices?"
"Okay, stop, there’s no time, so get back to work!!" Buffy told Spike, sitting down in her own chair. "The fifth Duke of Kensington's daughter has a grandson with the third Count of Yorkshire, so the degree of royalty would be..." She sighed.

*

Spike was getting into the golden carriage, which his ancestors had occupied on their way to their respective coronations since the days of Charles I. He looked so handsome in his uniform, the lack of sleep did not show on his face, and no one seemed to notice he was nervous as hell.
When the door was shut behind him and the horses began to move, drawing the carriage out from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey, and already he felt like he was suffocating.
"Nervous?" Buffy asked.
He jumped. "Buffy!"
She crouched on the floor of the carriage, invisible for the security staff, the parading horse guard, the cameras and the public standing by the side of the road with their little British flags. "Hi. Thought you'd like to have me around on your big day," she said. "You could at least pretend you're happy to see me!"
"I am," Spike told her, carefully waving at his subjects as the carriage passed them by. "But you could have said something!"
"I wanted it to be a surprise," she replied pouting.
The smile was plastered on his face, the crowd was cheering, he kept waving his hand at them gracefully, always smiling. "You almost gave me a heart-attack!"
Buffy positioned herself between his knees. "No..." she said with a coquettish smile, "But I'm certainly working on it..." She swept her little pink tongue over her lips in a sensual move, while sensually gliding her hands up his thighs, quickly undoing the fly of his pants.
"Buffy, what do you think you're you doing?" he asked in a shaky voice, almost forgetting about the waving and smiling.
"Relaxing you." Buffy was delighted to feel he was not even wearing underwear for his coronation. "Is this where the expression 'king size' comes from?" she asked innocently.
"Buffy, God, stop," he pleaded when she began to stroke his cock.
"Keep waving," Buffy reminded him. He was getting harder by the minute, and it was getting more and more difficult for him to maintain his facial expression. Buffy enjoyed her power immensely. She lowered her head on his lap.
"Don't do that, you... oh, God," he told her, but his words fell on deaf ears.
Buffy ran her tongue up and down the length of his member, then licked over the head. She placed her mouth over it and began to suck, taking him in, inch by inch.
Spike could already hear the radio commentaries.
"... and here King William's carriage passes the Old Admiralty, it's his Coronation Day, and from here I can see right into the carriage, and isn't that a happy expression? He's glowing!"
His eyelids fluttered. Now, how was he supposed to keep an even face when his little vixen was going down on him? He felt he could not hold back the inevitable much longer.
He pretended to shield his eyes from the sun with his hand, but in reality he only hid his expression from view when he came, his whole body shaking with the intensity of such a forbidden act as he began spilling into her mouth.
Buffy licked her lips sensuously, while making sure with her fingers that nothing was to waste. She took her purse and began to fumble for something, Spike guessed a tissue, or a mirror.
Her distraction gave him a moment to calm down and resume waving, the big grin on his face not fake this time.
"I knew it," Buffy whispered, "The only thing that's better than fucking a king is..." He saw the gun in her hand too late, "... killing him!"
"No!!!!!" Spike awoke with a start.
Buffy was by his side immediately. "What's wrong?" she asked with concern.
He looked frantically around the office. Everyone was still gathered at the conference table, Xander, Anya and Sir Rupert looking at him questioningly.
"It's okay," Buffy whispered, kissing his forehead, "You dozed off. I didn't have the heart to wake you."
"It was a nightmare," he told her.
Buffy tilted her head. The bulge in his pants said otherwise. However, she did not comment on it, just patted his hand.
A sudden shriek from Willow made them all jump.
"What?" Spike asked immediately.
"My programme is through with the calculations," Willow informed him. "The result should be pretty accurate."
"How accurate?" Spike asked.
"About 99,996 per cent," Willow said.
"Well, that's pretty accurate," Spike admitted.
"What does it say?" Buffy asked. "Who would succeed to the throne if something happened to Spike?"
Willow gestured at her laptop proudly. "Have a look."
Xander looked over her shoulder. His eyes widened. "Isn't that..."
"Was this person at the polo match or at the opera?" Anya asked.
Buffy walked around the table, looking over Willow's shoulder. "Are you positive? That's the rightful successor after Spike?"
Willow nodded.
"Who?" Spike asked.
"You won't believe it even if you see it," Buffy commented.
Sir Rupert stared at the small screen. The name and the face were familiar. He began to rub his glasses. "Sometimes it turns out you do not know people at all."
Spike rose and walked around the table, joining the others, in order to look at the mysterious outcome on Willow’s computer. Then all the missing pieces fell into place.

*

"How's my hair?"
"Fine..."
"Attention, Claudia, commercial's over. Five, four, three..." the last two digits were merely indicated by the assistant's fingers.
"This is Claudia Vayne, live from the Abbey Church of St Peter, better known as Westminster Abbey, where thousands of people have gathered this morning to attend the coronation of King William V. Among the guests we encounter members of all European royal families along with representatives of politics and society from all over the world." Pictures of the guests' entrance into the Abbey were shown on television while Claudia Vayne kept talking. "With us, again, Lord Quentin Travers, British royalty expert, who will comment the coronation for us. Lord Travers, thank you for being with us today."
"My pleasure, Miss Vayne," Lord Travers said pompously.
"Lord Travers, can you tell us what is going on?"
"Of course. The litany is sung as the Dean and Prebendaries and the choir of Westminster proceed from the Altar to the west door of the Church.
The Archbishops and the Bishops Assistant lead the procession, which is formed immediately outside of the west door of the Church. They wait until notice is given of the approach of her Majesty, and then shall begin to move inside the Church. And the people remain standing from the Entrance until the beginning of the Communion Service. The king enters, passes by his throne, where he is given time for private prayer. Then he sits in his Chair, the regalia are presented and lain down on the altar. Then the king is acclaimed from all four sides of the abbey. What follows is the oath and presentation of the Bible, Communion, Anointment, delivery of the regalia, and finally, the Coronation."
"There has been much speculation about the security measures at the coronation. Have there been any concrete threats to the life of His Majesty?"
"Currently, we have no indication of the existence of such a threat. There has to be security, of course, given the nature of this event and its attendants. There is no need to worry on such a joyous day."
"Our TV station has received some insider information from a reliable source, claiming that King William was planning on giving the ceremony a personal touch. What do you know about that, what might that mean?"
Lord Travers chuckled condescendingly. "I do not know who your reliable source is supposed to be. I assure you, this ceremony has been the same for several hundred years. There will not be any changes whatsoever."

*

Spike's knees were weak when he approached the carriage which was supposed to take him to the abbey. His dream was still too vivid on his mind, and he was not sure Buffy's plan was the best of ideas.
With another deep breath, he approached it, the door was opened for him, as always, then he got inside and sat leaning back in the red plush seats, sweating and falling to pieces.
"Nervous?" a female voice asked next to him.
Only then did he see there was already someone seated inside the brougham.
His heartbeat stopped.
"How have you been?" she asked softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be at your side before. My feeble health did not allow such a thing. But I am happy to make your acquaintance at last. Just let me say one thing: I am proud of you."
Spike stared at the elegant woman, who held herself with such grace and dignity despite her age and frail wellbeing. His voice was trembling with emotion. "Thanks... mother."

*

In Westminster Abbey, Buffy and her father pretended to be exchanging some small talk with Wesley and Fred.
"Everything's prepared," Wesley reported to Sir Rupert, a false smile on his face, while Fred kept nodding at those people she knew and who were seated in the south wing of the abbey with them. "We are just waiting for the assassin to make his move. And, thanks to Buffy's strategy, we will catch him."
Buffy forced herself to smile. "Strategy? I have a strategy?"
"The distraction will work out fine," Fred said, trying to sound more convinced than she actually was. "Though I'm still not sure if it's right to do such a thing in a church."
"The assassin didn't mind that killing someone in a church wasn’t appropriate either, well actually, killing someone anywhere is inappropriate, full stop" Buffy said. Her heart was pounding. What if she was wrong? What if the assassin struck before Spike even entered the abbey?

*

"Oh my God, this is such a surprise!" Claudia Vayne practically screamed into the microphone, "As the Royal Carriage is passing through the streets of London, we can see there are two people waving at the subjects, it's King William and his mother, the old Queen, and the crowd is out of control, wow, this is better than Notting Hill Carnival, now look at them, the same crystal blue eyes, I can't believe it, it's an historical day, a day to remember!"
Closer to her than she thought, someone prepared his weapons to make one unforgettable day indeed.

*

Spike looked at the old queen as the carriage stopped at the entrance for the guests, and she made to descend from the carriage. "Are you not coming with me?"
She smiled. "No. My place is among the guests. This is your day, and your crown." With an encouraging nod of her head and assisted by servants, the queen left the carriage, and Spike was alone again. The carriage rolled on to the west entrance.
The carriage door was opened. The servants bowed.
Spike got off the carriage, accompanied by the shouts from the crowd, Long live the King. "Hopefully," Spike murmured. He waved at his subjects one last time.
Trumpets.
Organ.
And he approached the entrance, the doors were being held for him. The guests gathered at the abbey stood to greet him. He slowly walked down the aisle. The choir sang a psalm.
I was glad when they said unto me:
We will go into the house of the Lord.
Our feet shall stand in thy gates:
O Jerusalem.
"As I said," Lord Travers said with satisfaction, "Everything is being followed according to the traditional ceremony, no personal note whatsoever."

Spike passed through the body of the church. Nothing looked suspicious. He passed into and through the choir, and then up the steps to the Theatre; when he was given a moment for private prayer, he looked around for any sign from security, but there was none. His only prayer was to leave Westminster Abbey alive.
Jerusalem is built as a city:
that is at unity in itself.
O pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
they shall prosper that love thee.
Peace be within thy walls:
and plenteousness within thy palaces.
He felt exposed when he finally sat on his Chair. If the assassin shot at him now, there was absolutely nothing he could do. But Buffy had been so sure of her plan. He trusted her, and so he would stick to it.
Spike hardly looked when the Lords presented the regalia to him.
The music faded.
The Archbishop of Canterbury stepped forward to welcome the guests and the cameras, and with them, the millions of people whose eyes rested on him that day in more than a hundred and fifty nations.
Suddenly, the lights went off, limelight in four different colours flashed through the ancient abbey, and the loudspeakers flooded the building with "The Final Countdown" at full volume. Girls in glittering white, blue and red costumes emulating the British flag brought huge real ones with them, always two of them carrying one spread flag in front of the Archbishop, the Lord Chancellor, Lord Great Chamberlain, Lord High Constable, Earl Marshal, and the King, hiding them from view behind those flags, glitter bombs exploding left and right of the King's chair.

"No personal note whatsoever, huh?" Claudia Vayne asked Lord Travers with glee.
"This is a scandal," Lord Travers murmured.
"But a darn good show," Claudia Vayne made her point across.

As the last lines of the Final Countdown filled the hall, the girls all dropped the flags at once, and a single spotlight was focused on the King, now revealed to the public again. He stood beside the chair, looking very grave and serious, maybe also a little tense, but who was to blame him?
The lights went back on.
Some of the elderly guests looked scandalized at the change of a traditional coronation ceremony, but especially the younger princes and princesses of Europe's royal houses were very enthusiastic about this fusion between popular culture and ancient monarchy.

"Now follows the official acclamation from all corners of the abbey, representing the corners of the British Empire," Claudia Vayne commented for the spectators at home, "As soon as the monarch has been acknowledged formally from all four corners, he is officially the undoubted sovereign and is proceeded to be crowned. So if there was any objection to this king, now would be the time. Of course, in all of British history, there hasn't been a single sovereign who has been denied acclamation in Westminster Abbey."

The Archbishop went to the east corner of the abbey, addressing the congregation in a loud voice:
"Sirs, I here present unto you
King William,
your undoubted King:
Wherefore all you who are come this day
to do your homage and service,
Are you willing to do the same?"
Those in the east wing replied all with one voice: "God save King William."

On one of the side galleries, the assassin prepared for his big moment.

The Archbishop proceeded to the south corner, repeating his words.
"Sirs, I here present unto you
King William,
your undoubted King:
Wherefore all you who are come this day
to do your homage and service,
Are you willing to do the same?"
Buffy, exchanged a frightful glance with her father.
Sir Rupert squeezed her hand. "God save King William," he said loudly and clearly along with the other people around them.
"God save King William," Buffy murmured mechanically, and she meant it.

The assassin took his position. The assassin's hands were calm, not trembling. His heartbeat was calm, his expression determined under the black mask. One clean shot in the head. The heart wouldn't do. He bet the King was wearing a Kevlar vest underneath his uniform. Loudly and clearly, the words were carried up to him from the west wing now, for the third time acclaiming the new monarch: "God save King William."

"One more acclamation left," Claudia Vayne commented for her audience, "What a contrast to the light show of just a minute ago, this is truly an extraordinary coronation ceremony for an extraordinary king."
"He keeps making mistakes," Lord Travers snorted arrogantly, "He is supposed to face every side of the abbey when they acclaim him, but he's just staring right in front of him like petrified, as if this were his execution and not his coronation!"
Claudia Vayne gave him a dirty side-glance. "Oh, just shut up!"

The archbishop had slowly walked to the remaining side, the north wing. He spoke very loudly now.
"Sirs, I here present unto you
King William,
your undoubted King:
Wherefore all you who are come this day
to do your homage and service."
Buffy gasped. A red light danced on Spike's forehead. Her head flew around, and she saw a dark figure, well-hidden among the marble saints on one of the side galleries.
The Archbishop addressed the congregation: "Are you willing to do the same?"

"God save King William!" the assassin whispered and shot.

*

There were screams and panic, the Archbishop and his assistants immediately surrounded the fallen king, guests stormed for the exits, ladies fainted, some security men shouted "Scotland Yard!" or "MI6, everything's under control, don't panic!", making their way through the fleeing crowd, as all hell broke loose.
The assassin looked down at his work with satisfaction. The king's body lay still, eyes wide and glassy. When all kinds of people rushed to his side, they would be too late.
"Nice shot," Wesley said behind him, aiming his weapon right at the back of the assassin's head. "Put it down."
The assassin did not move.
"I said PUT IT DOWN!" Wesley shouted.
The assassin chuckled. He raised his hands very slowly, stretching them away from his body, and slowly put the weapon down.
"MI6, you are under arrest, as a murder suspect," Wesley told him, " You have the right to remain silent. Now, if you would be so kind as to take off your mask - Sir Riley."
Sir Riley looked at him in astonishment. "How did you know it was me?"
"You are the first in line after King William, a much neglected side line of the family," Wesley said. "So let’s see the reasons that made us suspect you, besides your lineage: You trained the King in polo and had access to the saddle chamber, plenty of opportunity to cut the strap. I saw you at the opera house as well. Why would a polo instructor be interested in the fine arts? You live on the premises of Buckingham Palace. It was easy for you to sneak into the kitchen and poison the King's drink for the Investiture ceremony. The acid found in the glass is normally used to clean dried horse excrements from the royal stables. The King's glass has his very own Coat of Arms on it, easily recognisable for an employee. Oh, and let us not forget your mother lives at Canterbury, and you happened to visit her the day the Black Prince's shield almost crushed King William's skull," he added coldly. "If I didn't know better, I would say you wanted to be caught. We had to figure it out, sooner or later."
Sir Riley grinned. "Just not fast enough. It doesn't matter, as long as he's dead. Look at the body, how he's lying surrounded by a sea made of his own blood." He peered down at the body. He frowned. "There isn't enough blood... I shot him in the head... There ought to be blood, and brain matter, and..."
Wesley's lips curled into a smile.

*

"Nice work," Spike told Jeni and Lisa from Madame Tussaud's, looking down at his double, which was a sorry sight. "He looks just like me. Apart from the hole in his head."
"My best piece of work, and now I have to do it again," Jeni complained, but she was smiling.
"Exchanging you against your wax figure while those half-naked girls were holding a flag before you, what a brilliant idea," Lisa agreed. "And everyone thought you were putting on a show!"
"All the credit goes out to Buffy," Spike admitted, "She was the brain behind all this undercover operation."
"I was so scared," Buffy admitted hugging him fiercely, not that he was complaining.
"You were scared?" Spike teased her.
Sir Rupert stepped to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret the little charade and the shock it caused you, but it was necessary for the safety of King William. I am glad to inform you that the situation is under control now. The shooter has been arrested, and the King has not been harmed. So if you please return to your seats. We shall continue with the ceremony shortly. Thank you."

*

The shock was hard on many of the assembled guests, and very reluctantly they did return into the abbey. However, the many cameras pointed at them and the load of tabloid publicity this may carry finally got the better of the European royalty, and so, they came back to follow a ceremony which would be in the headlines of the yellow press for several of the following weeks, at least until the Belgian crown prince was arrested in a drug raid at a night club in Brussels.
Thanks to Fred's training, Spike did not make a single mistake during the whole ceremony. Sometimes he sought out Buffy's eyes in the crowd, and she smiled at him, blinking away a tear when he swore to preserve the country.
"That's ridiculous, I'm an American citizen, why am I crying?" she whispered in a small voice.
Instead of an answer, Sir Rupert began to clean his glasses.
The Archbishop blessed the crown on the altar. Then he stepped forward and reverently put the crown on Spike's head. " God crown you with a crown of glory and righteousness, that having a right faith and manifold fruit of good works, you may obtain the crown of an everlasting kingdom by the gift of him whose kingdom endureth forever."



EPILOGUE

"They're here!" Dawn ran down the stairs, almost tripping on the last step.
"Slow down, child" Joyce chided her, "They can't fly - they will need to get off the car first!"
"Can't wait to tell my classmates that the king of England is staying at my house!"
"Dawn," Joyce said in a strict voice, "We talked about this. Buffy and William want some time on their own after those horrible past few weeks, and they wouldn’t enjoy their holiday if the press knew about their staying in Sunnydale. You can't go on bragging about the British monarchy's best guarded secret around your high school!"
Dawn made a sad little face. Joyce opened the door.
"Mom!" Buffy burst through the door and embraced her mother, then her sister. "Dawn! It's so good to be home! Seven hours in a military jet, that's enough to last me for the three weeks till we have to go back!"
"Three weeks?" Dawn looked disappointed. "Can't you stay longer?"
"Spike has to work," Buffy explained.
"He's the King, others are supposed to do the work for him!" Dawn protested.
"You must be Dawn," Spike said and to Dawn's surprise she observed he was carrying his own suitcase and Buffy's.
Dawn stared at him.
"Your Majesty," Joyce said and curtseyed awkwardly.
"Spike," he corrected her immediately.
"Can I call you Spike, too?" Dawn asked curiously.
"Of course, you're my future sister-in-law, after all," he told her.
Dawn's eyes widened. "Cool."
Buffy extended her hand so Dawn and their mother could get a good look at her precious engagement ring.
Spike cleared his voice. "Buffy, where do these go?" He shrugged with the heavy baggage still in his hands. "Arms falling off here."
"Sorry," Buffy said, "Upstairs, to my room. I'll show you." She walked up the stairs, followed by Spike and her hyper excited sister.
"I've made some lunch," Joyce called after them, "let me just close the door, and then..." She made to close the door, when someone else appeared at her doorstep. "Hello, Joyce."
Joyce was staring at the man in his incredibly old-fashioned tweed suit. "Rupert."
"Sorry I have not called," Sir Rupert apologized. "I was not sure if you wanted to see me."
Joyce was totally taken aback. "It's been a really long time," she finally said.
"I know." He cleared his voice. "I wanted to talk to you about Buffy's future. I presume you have noticed the ring."
Joyce nodded.
"And I suppose you were aware of a slight problem to that. Since Buffy does not belong to British nobility, King William is technically considered to be marrying beneath his station."
Joyce took in a sharp breath. "Yeah. Seems Spike has more guts than someone else I know."
Sir Rupert cast his eyes down in shame, for she was right. "I deserve that kind of treatment. Joyce. I've made a terrible mistake I cannot dream you would allow me to rectify, after all this time. I know we can't turn back the clock twenty years, but... I was thinking... I mean, we are not getting any younger, none of us... and in theory, if Buffy were a child of mine by legitimate marriage, she would be entitled to the rank of a Lady. So I was thinking, maybe just for Buffy's well-being, we could... talk."
Joyce stared at him. "After twenty years, you just show up here and... Wait, you are not proposing to me, are you?"
Sir Rupert shrugged with a minor grin on his face. "Not technically, no."
Joyce stepped away from the door, with a grin on her face which gave him a little hope. "Come on in. Let’s talk."

THE END