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Cousin Arabella by Lilachigh
Chp 8 Sixty Minutes
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Cousin Arabella by Lilachigh

Chapter ll
Sixty Minutes

“I wonder if there’s any food left downstairs; I’m starving!”

Spike raised his head from where he was tracing delicate patterns with his tongue on Buffy’s flat tanned stomach. ‘Bloody hell, Slayer. A good hour‘s shagging and all you can think about is food! You don’t do much for a bloke’s ego, you know. Couldn’t you just sigh a couple of times and murmur, ‘Oh Spike, that was fantastic!’’

Buffy pouted and curled her fingers in the platinum curls, trying to make them all turn the same way - which they refused to do. ‘Oh, Spike, that was fantastic, marvellous, the best ever and and please, please can you go and find me something to eat!”

Spike sighed, rolled over and pulled on his jeans. “OK, Slayer, I’ll see what I can do. But it depends on the demon activity, sweetheart.”

Buffy pulled a face. ‘I forgot about the demons,” she admitted. ‘Do you think they know where we are?”

Spike grinned down at where she still lay on the floor, her blonde hair splayed out over the rich red carpet, her legs still apart from his last plundering, marauding advance. She was making no gestures of trying to cover herself up as she normally did. She was sated and satisfied, her lips swollen, her nipples bright red with kissing. He could see the sweat beading on her body, the trails of moisture and come on her damp thighs. She’d never looked so relaxed or so gorgeous since he’d met her.

“I think they’d have been battering down the door if they’d sensed us,” he said. ‘This house has so many passages and staircases that they’ve lost our trail. But eventually one of them will track us down.“

Buffy sat up abruptly and looked round her. The white and red silk dress lay in ribbons around her. Her peach bra was the only item of clothing she could wear again because she’d never had any panties on from the moment earlier this evening that Spike had come into her bedroom.

‘You’d better find me something to put on,” she said dryly. “And you owe me for my best dress. Did you have to tear it into pieces?”

He smiled. “You weren’t complaining too much at the time, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t hear much ‘Oh Spike, mind my dress,’ but a lot of ‘Oh god, faster, more, harder, again, please, please, make me come again, oh god!’”

“Pig!” Buffy said automatically, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. Being naked seemed natural now in front of him. She used to be shy of him seeing her body, unless they were making love. But now, after the hour they’d just spent, she felt intensely feminine. For sixty wonderful minutes, she’d stopped being the Slayer, stopped having to think and decide and control. He’d taken her body and driven all the tension and unhappiness out of her.

Oh, she knew it would come back. Soon they would have to go home, back to Sunnydale and all the problems that awaited them. But she would never forget that sixty minutes, when all her inhibitions had been driven away, even Spike and Buffy had vanished, it had just been a man and a woman, diving into the very depths of passion.

She watched now as his gaze roamed over her body, the breath he didn’t need hissing through his teeth. He crossed the room in two strides and crushed her against him, bending her head back to kiss her, his hands moulding her body as he did so.

“Grrrr, Slayer, you drive me wild,” he muttered. “OK, OK, I know what you’re going to say. Food and clothes! Wait here and I’ll see what I can do. Have this in the meantime.” He threw her his red silk shirt and she pulled it on. Although it came down to her thighs, there was no way she was going to walk round Arabella’s house dressed just in this!
She could smell Spike on the shirt and it made her legs go weak. She sat on the floor, waiting for him to return, thinking about what they’d just done, feeling the colour flooding her cheeks at her memories. Where had her behaviour come from? It had been - she struggled to find the words she needed.

Wanton. Abandoned. Out of control. All were true. She tried to remember her one time with Angel. OK, sixteen, a virgin, scared, unsure of what she was doing. There had been a certain amount of pain, a certain amount of pleasure, but she was pretty damn sure that her legs had never wrapped round his waist, that she hadn’t screamed with passion and desire.

Sex with Riley had been, well, sort of relaxing, she’d always known exactly what he was going to do and what order he was going to do it in. She’d never been surprised or alarmed by him. She’d even once had the wicked thought that there was an army manual somewhere with all the moves written down and Riley followed it to the letter.

Sex with Spike was - OK, mind-blowingly great, but more than that. She hated to admit it, in fact she refused to admit it! - but somehow, apart from their bodies which seemed to know each other instinctively, what they wanted, what they needed, they also committed to each other in a deep, overwhelming, emotional way she failed to understand.

If it had been any other man, she would have said she was head over heels in love with him. But that was ridiculous. This was Spike - evil vampire, ex Big Bad, her arch enemy, admittedly now helpless, but only held in place by that gizmo the government boys had placed in his brain. How could she possibly love him? No, she was just confused by the sex and his ability to get under her skin.

After all, how ridiculous to be jealous of his cousin Arabella. How could she possibly be jealous of someone who was way over a hundred years old. That, she told herself firmly, had just been that wretched pink champagne. Well, the effects of that were wearing off now. She was quite certain that the next time she met Arabella, she would feel nothing but mild irritation at the female vampire’s devious ways to get inside Spike’s pants!

Buffy sighed and stretched luxuriously. She would think about all this another day. Right now, she realised, she was facing other more pressing problems.

High up on the stone wall was a little round window. Through it she could see that the dark midnight blue of the sky was beginning to pale. Dawn wasn’t too far off. She frowned. If the sun came up, she and Spike would be stuck here and that would cause all sorts of problems at home.

‘Hurry up,” she murmured, wishing she wasn’t so hungry. Slaying or making love, they both had the same effect on her stomach she’d noticed!

Suddenly the door banged open, Spike flew through it and slammed it shut behind him. From the other side, they could hear shouts and growls and then a thumping and scratching on the thick wood, as if claws and talons were being used to tear it apart.
“Sorry, Slayer! Got caught half way downstairs. Thought they’d have given up by now but I was wrong!’

“And my snacks?” Buffy said hopefully.

Spike glared at her. “Sod the snacks, Buffy. At least I got you something to wear!”

He fished in his pocket and pulled out a pair of pink see-through chiffon trousers. Buffy stared at Spike and then at them. The last time she’d seen these, they’d been on a little fluffy demon who was serving drinks!

“Don’t ask, Slayer,” Spike said grimly and she pulled them on under the red shirt. At least they weren’t dripping with gungy demon blood, she thought, trying to look on the bright side.

The scratching and growling at the door was getting louder. “So, how do we get out of here?’ she asked.

Spike shook his head and glanced round. “God knows. Perhaps we could open the door and rush them?’

Buffy picked up her purse and emptied it onto the floor. She still had her stake. She pushed it into her waistband and surveyed the room. “The window, Spike,” she said at last. “It’s our best chance.”

Swiftly, without any further words, he grasped her foot and heaved as she jumped. She sailed upwards and grabbed hold of the stone sill. For a long second she hung, her legs scrabbling against the stone, then she got a firmer grip and pulled herself up until she was sitting on the deep window sill.

She glanced back down at Spike who was standing, hands on hips, staring up at her.
“Great view, Goldilocks,” he grinned nodding at her transparent trousers.

“Give me strength!” she snapped. “Here we are, trying to escape from a pack of demons and all you can think of is - ’

“Hey, I’ve always been bad, Slayer! Your bum is such a perfect round shape,” he quipped. “Must admit I don”t often get to see it from this angle. Could be a new approach to shagging, luv!”

Buffy turned away before he could see her smile. She grasped the frame of the window and pulled. She felt it give, then with a wrench of her Slayer strength, it came loose and she flung it down, giggling as Spike had to dodge as it crashed against his head.

“Sorry!” she called. “It’s the trousers! They’re spoiling my aim!”

“Just wait till we get out of here!”

Buffy stared outside of the window and gulped. She had a feeling they weren’t going anywhere. She reached down her arm and Spike leapt up, grasping her hand and allowing her to swing him up beside her.

He looked out of the window. “Bloody hell, Slayer. How high up are we?”

Their room was at the top of a turret built at the far end of Arabella and Div’vid’s mansion. Below them was a sheer wall that fell straight down into an oily black lake where, even in this half light she could see that wicked rock teeth pushed up above the surface

Buffy stared. There was no way they were going to jump down there. She bit her lip. Every second the sky was growing paler. There was a distinct lavender glow in the east. The sun would be up soon and it was vital that Spike wasn’t outside when that happened.

She glanced back down at the door. She could see that great splinters of wood were being gouged out now from outside. The noise of the hunting demons was growing louder by the second. So they couldn’t go back and they couldn’t go forwards. They were trapped!

“If you were a proper vampire like Dracula, we could fly out of here!” Buffy snapped, staring down at the sheer drop beneath them.

Spike edged out onto the sill and reached upwards to search for non-existant handholds on the stone wall above his head. “Flashy gypsy tricks, pet. I wouldn’t demean myself by using them.“

“Excuse me, Mr Perfect, but he’s not the one stuck at the top of a tower with a pack of demons about to break through the door!’ Buffy said crossly.

“I think we can climb upwards and sort of inch round to the other side of the turret,’ Spike said more in hope than certainty.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, we can give it a go, pet.”

Buffy suddenly jumped back down into the room.

‘Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

‘Spike! I’m coming to my senses, that’s what I’m doing. This is ridiculous. I’m the Slayer, for goodness sake. What on earth am I doing, running away from a pack of drunk demons. I must be mad. If they want to fight, OK, I’ll fight. Come on, surely, you’re not shirking a good scrap. Where’s your sense of adventure, British boy.”

‘Bloody Hell!” Spike muttered. “Women! Wish you’d make up your mind, pet.” He swung himself back through the window and hurtled down to land like a great cat on his feet at her side. “Just don’t kill too many, Slayer. Remember, they’re Arabella and Div’vid’s guests here tonight! I’m family, I can’t upset her by going round knocking off her friends just as I choose.”

“I don’t see why,” Buffy said indignantly. “You used to attack my friends all the time! Giles - Willow, remember. And hey, you’d bite Xander in a second if you had the chance.”

“Vampire here! It’s what I do. Or did. But this is different. You wouldn’t start killing Janice, the Bit’s friend, now would you?”

“Oh all right. I’ll be careful.” Buffy sighed. Honestly, was she getting tired of all the ‘mustn’t upset Arabella’ crap? Had she ever had a more annoying evening out? It was hard to remember one. Oh, yes, she’d died a couple of times. Perhaps they counted as big fat ten out of tens, but this was a close nine and a half! No, make that nine and three-quarters!

The roaring and yelling outside the door was growing louder every second and now the gouges in the wood were showing light on the other side. Any second now the door would be down.

She glanced at Spike and he grinned back. Clad only in a lacy peach bra, a red silk shirt and pink transparent trousers he’d stolen from a very camp demon, he couldn’t remember when she’d looked so god damn sexy. Her hair was a mass of golden tangles and her green eyes blazed at him. He felt his trousers tighten and knew with pounding certainty that on the day he was dying, he would react to her in the same way.

Whatever the cords were that bound them, they were becoming stronger and stronger with each passing day. He couldn’t believe that anything could ever part them now, even though he knew she still thought he was an evil, soul less thing.

He reached over and pulled her close, bending back her head so her hair cascaded down over his arm, and kissed her, slowly, seductively, achingly tender. But underneath, Buffy could feel the passion, the lust, the desire, the longing for a good fight, and all her Slayer blood responded to him.

She twined her fingers deep into his hair and returned the kiss with all her power. She heard him grunt as he dug his boots into the floor to keep his balance against her strength.

This was what she gloried in where Spike was concerned. Every other man - except Angel - would have gone crashing to the floor, with her then apologetically having to help him up. And Angel - well, she’d never have acted so brazenly with him, never forced him to stand and fight her back with his kisses as Spike was now doing.

“Just you wait, Slayer!” he breathed at last as she broke away for air. “Wait until I get you away somewhere private.”

“More promises,” she murmured and then yelped as the door finally gave way and a crowd of demons broke into the room.

The next few minutes were a whirling kalaidoscope of punches and kicks, flying bodies, teeth and fangs, golden glowing eyes, claws and horns, fur and blood. At last Spike hurled himself down the staircase, taking five or six demons with him and Buffy skipped along behind, her fists connecting with scales and slime, but not using her stake.

She wished for a split second that she wasn’t wearing the chiffon trousers, though, especially when the fluffy pink demon who owned them, came screaming in a high falsetto up the stairs, accusing her of being a thief!

Buffy knocked him out with one punch and then ran after Spike who was buried under various heaving bodies and obviously thoroughly enjoying himself from the shouts of laughter and cries of “Come on, is that all you’ve got!” she could hear.

By now the fight had reached the great marble hallway and the enormous crash as the central blue and white and silver flower decoration was hurtled to the floor made even Buffy wince. “Spike! Head for the car!” she yelled. “We must get out of here. It’ll be dawn soon.”

“Buffy!!! Look out!” With a roar, Spike shook off two vampires who were trying to throttle him and threw himself across the hall as the black slime demon that had crept up behind Buffy was just about to smash in the back of her head with the stone bowl that was all that was left of the flower decoration.

It hit Spike on the temple and he dropped, senseless to the floor. Buffy yelled and stood over him, brandishing the stake she’d tucked into the drawstring of her transparent pants. ‘Touch him and you die!” she hissed, eyes blazing green. “Spike! Spike! ” She nudged at him with her foot but he lay motionless. “Get up! Please, get up.”

“He can’t hear you, Slayer,” the slime demon grunted and prowled forward dripping mucus from every pore. “He can’t defend you anymore. I’m having a really good day because you’re going to die!”

to be continued

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