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Anarchy Reigns by angelic_amy
 
Alone Time.
 
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Thanks to Sue for the beta. *smoochies*



Chapter 11: Alone Time.


Drusilla clapped her hands at one of her minions, the young male vampire quickly scurrying forward and dropped to his knees before the love seat she reclined upon. She was hungry and didn’t feel much like hunting. It was important for the success of the plan her presence in Sunnydale remained undetected, hence the black car being used to transport her around town when she required. Tonight, however, she wasn’t in the mood to hunt.

The spell had been performed as planned and now it was only a matter of waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Right now it was much too early to move forward to the next phase of the plan.

Drusilla had consented to the specific spell used tonight for a number of reasons, but it didn’t mean she favored the ultimate outcome. Seeing her Dark Prince and the slayer together—in the flesh, not just in her mind—was not something she would easily abide.

Pouting petulantly Drusilla trailed her manicured fingernails down the left cheek of the subservient minion before her. “Princess is hungry,” she informed, the pout returning.

His eyes never leaving the floor, the minion made a proposition. “Would you like me to bring you a human to feed from, mistress?”

“Something… young,” Dru answered, patting her minion on the head.

With a nod and a bow the young male vampire rose to his feet, and obediently left the cavern.

~*~*~


The friends walked down the quiet streets of Sunnydale in relative silence. Willow was still trying to block out the visuals she had been witness to in the frat house, whilst Anya was busily remembering the scenes she had walked in on for inspiration when she got Xander home. Buffy and Spike were also silent, standing not nearly as close to each other as they’d have preferred. It was merely the knowledge they’d soon be alone that kept their hands from wandering. So far.

The Wiccans were the first to bid goodnight, breaking off and heading towards their dormitory.

Spike was beginning to become impatient with the slow pace, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Buffy heard his impatience and leaned closer to his shoulder, giving his hand a tight squeeze to let him know he wasn’t the only frustrated one.

“Now they’re gone, we like minded people and demons—ex and current,” Anya pointed out with a nod in Spike’s direction, “who are all fans of the wonderful pleasure the interlocking bodies of males and females can provi--.”

“Ahn!” Xander interrupted when he realized, later rather than sooner, where this conversation was. “Ix-nay on the edroom talk b-ay.”

Buffy shot an amused grin at Xander, while Spike barely managed to control the chuckle that rose in his throat. There was nothing he enjoyed more—save spending one-on-one time with Buffy—than seeing the brunette whelp getting flustered, and the ex-demon’s mouth was usually responsible.

“What?” Anya demanded. “We’re all adults here. Judging by the sexual tension in the air you could cut with a knife, I thought Buffy and Spike would appreciate details of some of the positions I took note of when I walke--.”

The rest of the sentence was cut off when Xander’s hand clamped over his girlfriend’s mouth. “We’ll be going now.”

Spike continued to watch the pair with amusement as Xander dragged his sexually forthright girlfriend in the direction of his parent’s house. Anya looked over her shoulder at the blonde pair, winking mischievously as they disappeared around the corner.

“She did that on purpose!” Buffy exclaimed with delighted surprise.

“That she did, love.”

“But, why?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth realization dawned, her mouth forming a perfect circle. Colour rose in her cheeks and her temperature practically rose under the intense gaze from Spike, his tongue curling behind the back of his teeth.

Spike stepped back a few feet to gain a better look. What started out as a gentle appreciation swiftly became a leer, as the vampire’s focus dropped from Buffy’s plump pout to the exposed flesh of her décolletage. The swell of her breasts peeking over the top of the tight, black and deadly scrap of a shirt was too much of a temptation for Spike to ignore, and his mouth watered in torturous anticipation as a decidedly ragged breath caused her bosom to heave.

“Why d’you think, pet?” he asked, even though she’d already figured the reason for Anya and Xander’s swift—and not to mention timely—exit. Spike made a show of looking around the street, sweeping his arms from side to side as if to indicate the complete lack of observers. The smirk he shot in her direction was lascivious; all pretence of discretion evaporating as he eagerly eyed her from head to toe. “No more friends around or pesky college boys to interrupt us. Whatever should we do?”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to be the playful one. With a deliberate toss of her hair to expose the golden length of her neck to Spike’s hungry gaze, Buffy smiled her own tempestuous smile. “You want me?”

Spike’s response was a vigorous nod as he prowled towards her.

An impish glint flickered through Buffy’s eyes as she threw down the gauntlet. “Then you’ll have to catch me.”

Buffy darted off down the street, the impatient vampire growling with a mixture of annoyance—that she had run from him—and appreciation that she was playing to his vampiric tendencies.

The hunt was something Spike had reveled in during his days of feeding. Pursuing a victim, tracking them down and trapping them was half the fun of the kill. In his pre-chip days it wasn’t uncommon for him to get hard purely from the thrill of the chase—and more often than not that pursuit involved a certain blonde Slayer who was currently evading him. Spike may have adjusted to his non-biting of humans, care of the chip, but it didn’t in any way block the desire to hunt, something Buffy was keenly aware of. Darting off like she had was only going to fuel his hunger for her and make the end result—her capture—all the more thrilling.

The lingering scent of Buffy’s perfume directed Spike when the slayer managed to disappear from his view somewhere in the middle of his musing. But she hadn’t gone far. The vanilla of her perfume wasn’t the only aroma that fragranced the air, the heady smell of her arousal alerting Spike as to just how much Buffy was enjoying this little game of hide and go seek.

Realizing exactly where she was leading him when the wrought iron gates of Restfield Cemetery came into view, Spike slowed down. Blending in with the shadows created by the large stone walls and trees that littered the grounds, Spike stalked his prey.

“Baby’s gonna get it.”

Delighted giggles sounded to Spike’s left, followed by a twig snapping. Keeping to the shadows he closed in on the noise. “Slayer’s getting’ sloppy in ‘er old age, not quite as stealthy as she used to be.”

A snort of annoyance followed by a “humph” came from his right. If she were truly trying to evade him Spike was certain she could do so. Hell, the number of times she’d sprung up from nowhere and practically surprised the un-life out of him was too many count. She was circling this small section of the graveyard, hunting him just as much as he was hunting her. Moving around like she was had muddied the air with her essence, making it more difficult for him to track her by scent alone. So he’d have to settle for the not so subtle noises she was making.

As if she’d read his mind, all tantalizing subtlety disappeared as Buffy’s movements became deliberate and precise, leaving Spike in silence.

It seemed the slayer had upped the stakes and was going to make him pay for his teasing. Well, two could play at that game. Closing his eyes to focus his attention, Spike stretched out his senses. First came the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, then the rustle of grass beneath his own feet as he moved. And then finally a steady thump thumping of a heartbeat, Buffy’s. She’d moved further away than he’d anticipated.

Opening his eyes, the bones and sinew of his forehead shifted and changed as his vampire came forth, giving his vision an added advantage. Using the strong cadence of her heartbeat as a guide, Spike skulked forward.

~*~*~


Buffy was growing increasingly impatient. What she had begun as a playful chase had quickly turned more serious when Spike’s taunting hit a tender nerve. It was meant only in jest but that didn’t mean it didn’t cause her to think. With the threat of Glory now a non-issue, and Darla under lock and key in LA, Buffy’s nightly worries had been reduced to a couple of fledgling vampires every now and then, and the odd demon looking to overtake the tunnel systems. Nothing really life threatening or of an apocalyptic nature. So she’d let herself relax and had cut back on her training to spend more ‘quality’ time building her new relationship, something Giles had initially frowned upon. As much as she had protested she deserved a break, a small part of Buffy was worried.

What if she became sloppy? What if something happened to her friends, or Dawn, or Spike and she could have prevented it if only she’d trained more? What if something crept up on her and she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard it?

A tingle at the back of her neck alerted Buffy to a vampiric presence that wasn’t Spike, milliseconds before a balled fist connected with the side of her jaw. The force of the punch caused Buffy’s head to snap back roughly, eliciting a short cry of pain.

Note to self: don’t get lost in thought in a graveyard.

Buffy whirled around to find five vampires eyeing her with deadly intent, each armed. So much for a night off… she thought with a roll of her eyes, her earlier reflections on the quiet forgotten. Interruptions like this always happened when she had something planned.

“What does a girl have to do to get a night’s rest around here?” she complained.

Without a word, and as one, they attacked.

Buffy dodged the right hook sailing toward her jaw, dropping to a crouch and spinning her left leg in an arc to trip her first attacker. Her hands flew to her hip where she normally had a stake hidden away, belatedly remembering, and cursing, the fact she was wearing a skirt. She was unarmed.

Tucking into a ball Buffy rolled to her feet, putting some distance between the four standing demons. As she rose so did the fifth. A quippy comment was on the tip of her tongue but before it could be delivered they attacked again.

The two vampires to her left dove toward her but fell short so Buffy turned her full attention to the other three who threw punches at her head, chest and limbs. Block, jab, jab, kick, dodge, parry, jab. Over and over Buffy struck at the three vampires who occupied her attention. Most of her hits connected, the vampires making no effort to dodge her blows. Normally this would have twigged that something was up, but Buffy barely had the time to consider it as a right hook pushed through her defensive stance and connected with her face.

Buffy’s wince of pain became a growl of anger when a wet heat indicated that the blow had in fact caused her cheek to split, blood seeping from the wound. Growling in outrage she swung wildly, throwing her entire weight behind the mother of all sucker punches. She had expected to connect with the nose of the one responsible for her wound, but instead found herself swinging into nothing when the vamp made his first defensive move and ducked.

It was all the misdirection the group needed, the two vampires who’d rolled away after their first failed lunge appeared from behind a headstone and tackled the unbalanced slayer around her knees, knocking her to the ground. The breath rushed from Buffy’s lungs as she hit the ground awkwardly.

Reflexively, she tried to curl into the fetal position to recover her lost breath only to find her legs pinned to the ground. Suddenly, aware that she was in peril, danger flashed through Buffy’s eyes as her left hand was yanked harshly outwards. Instinct drove her free hand to smash a nose breaking punch into the face of one of her assailants, but it was not enough to free her trapped limbs entirely. And silent they remained.

Buffy thrashed wildly, a combination of adrenaline and fear causing her heart to pound with the speed of a race horse, her baser instincts of survival refusing to give in even though the odds weren’t in her favor. A hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head to the side and baring her neck to a set of lowering fangs.

BUFFY!

Her name was shouted in alarm, followed by a growl of pure rage, breaking the unbearable silence. The air above Buffy whistled with movement, followed immediately by a thwap and the meaty crunch of wood hitting flesh. There was a snap of breaking timber followed by a cry of pain, the first sound any of the vamps had made, as a shower of dust descended over her.

Arms freed and breath returned to her, Buffy rolled onto her side and snatched a leg away from her captors; a short, sharp kick slamming with a satisfying crunch into the face of a nameless vampire. As soon as she was on her feet a weapon was tossed by Spike, the handle end of a garden rake snapped in the middle.

In unison the pair fought, their attacks sharp and brutal as they made quick work of the four. Each of them was dusted without uttering a word.

Muscles aching from the exertion of the fight and blows she had attained, Buffy cricked her neck, chancing a glance down at her outfit and not at all liking what she saw.

Spike on the other hand was raring to go another round. He’d been slowly making his way toward Buffy, extending the little cat and mouse game they had going until the point where not seeing her was unbearable. Imagine his surprise when he happened upon his girl about to be fed on by a group of vampires.

The red, blinding rage of that moment was nothing like he’d ever felt before.

The desire to protect Buffy, fuelled by said rage that another vampire would dare touch her, surged within him to the point of combustion. His attacks had been brutal, bordering on violence he had dished out since his pre-chip days. Had her life not been in mortal danger, Spike would have taken great pleasure in dismembering the vampires limb from limb, prolonging the pain for as long as inhumanly possible.

But that wasn’t the case. Spike’s one thought was almost caveman-ish, boy protect girl. For as strong and capable as Buffy truly was, tonight she’d needed help. And he dreaded to think what might have happened had he not been there.

His temper lowering to a simmer, he lifted his gaze to his girl, and his expression immediately softened, vampiric ridges and teeth disappearing as his human face took over.

Blood was smeared across her right cheek, her hair was a tangled mess and her outfit was torn and stained beyond repair. A pout curled at her lips as she inspected her ruined outfit, a disgruntled sigh preceding a string of curse words she’d obviously picked up from him.

To Spike, she’d never looked more beautiful.

“My shirt’s ruined, I’m bleeding, and…” Buffy’s fingers tentatively sought out her hair, a grimace creeping across her face. “And it’s going to take a month to get these knots out! Why on --”

Buffy’s was silenced by a powerful arm banding around her waist and cool lips fusing to her own, in a desperate, needy kiss.



~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Anyone think it’s working up to smut? You might be right… *grins and runs away*
 
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