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Cousin Arabella by Lilachigh



Chapter 5 Shall I draw you a Picture?

Spike has taken Buffy to meet his cousin and her demon husband. But the evening isn’t turning out too well!


Buffy’s eyes widened in amazement as they entered the mansion’s vast ballroom. It was like something out of a fairy-tale, or a Hollywood movie. Chandeliers sparkled, the wooden floor gleamed; people - well, a mixture of weird demons and - if her senses were accurate - a good proportion of vampires, were standing in little groups, drinking champagne and nibbling on little goodies handed round by a battalion of small, bright pink demons who minced around, covered in fluffy fur, squeaking at each other indignantly when they got in each other’s way.

There was a group playing soft jazz on a balcony, the music almost drowned by the chatter, squeaking, growling, hissing and general noise of the guests beneath them.

And to Buffy’s horror, she realised she was the only woman wearing a short dress! Every other woman - even those with horns and tails - was in full evening gear.

She gulped and removed a glass of champagne swiftly from a tray as it went past her. She needed a drink! There were so many demons and vampires in this room that her sensory system had gone into overdrive.

‘Ah, you’ve got a drink. Great!’ It was Div’vid, the giant green, cow demon who was married to Spike’s cousin.

Buffy smiled up and up at him. This was a big demon! But his eyes were so soft, velvety brown and his little ears so pretty, she couldn’t get too worked up about him.

‘Yes, thank you. What a beautiful house.’

Div’vid smiled warmly. ‘Thank you, Miss Buffy. I’m so glad you like it. I always feel it’s nice to have - space - to move in, don’t you?’

His giant, emerald green hand swung expansively round, almost decapitating one of his guests.

Buffy nodded nervously and glanced around for Spike. Where the hell was he? And where was Miss Poison Ivy, his cousin Arabella? There was no sign of them. Not that she cared, she told herself, as she chatted to Div’vid, listening as he told her how he’d come to America from England, how difficult it was to grow roses in the desert, how much his beloved wife missed her home land.

‘Why doesn‘t she go back here then?’ Buffy asked silently, wishing that Arabella could be on the next jet out of Los Angeles. She peered over her shoulder again. Still no sign of the cousins.

She gulped down another mouthful of pink champagne and nodded as a little fluffy pink demon offered to fill her glass.

They were probably off upstairs having a nice-to-see-you-after-all-this-time-shag, she thought and wondered why she cared. She hated Spike. OK, she liked what he did to her. She shuddered as the icy champagne hit her throat. OK, understatement of the year, here. She loved what he did to her, what she did to him., but she didn’t like him!

So, if he was shagging Arabella, then that just proved what an evil, immoral thing he was, especially as he’d seemed to like Div’vid, his cousin’s husband and his host for the evening.

‘So, you and William - you’re - together?’ Div’vid was obviously trying to be tactful.

‘Not so much, more like - we work together sometimes.’

‘Oh work colleagues. Nice. But - ’ he smiled down at her and waggled his ears suggestively. ‘I can sense you’re much more than that! I may only be a mere Frovlax, but even I can sense when a couple have been - well, shall we say close! It’s the smell, you know. And I must say, I’m pleased. To be truthful - ’ he glanced round, as nervous as a seven foot Frovlax Demon could be - ‘I never really liked Drusilla. Charming woman when she wanted to be, but - well - complicated. And there was all that business with the puppies - Still, you two seem well suited. I’d like to see William settled with a nice girl - ’

‘Oh, no, you don’t understand. You see we’re just - ’ Buffy tried to stop, appalled at the words which were escaping from her mouth, but she couldn’t prevent them ‘we’re just good friends.’

A giant emerald hand patted her on the head and a mooing laugh made the chandeliers above them ring and dance.

Then, luckily, Div’vid was distracted by another late guest arriving. Buffy pushed her way through the crowd, her fingers itching to pull a stake out of her purse and dispatch half of them. She was going to kill Spike when she next saw him. How dare he make her say that, but what else could she have told Div’vid?

Oh no, I’m the Slayer and I’ve recently been dead but now I’m back and I kill demons and vampires, and, by the way, I’m using Spike for sex because only then do I feel anything. And I’m only here because...because....

Because you wanted a night out with Spike, a voice in her head said. You wanted to go out as a couple because every minute you spend with him makes you feel hot. And when you’re not with him, you have all those little itches he talks to you about in the dark, the ones only he can scratch!

Out in the hall, a wide staircase curved graciously up to the first floor. Buffy made her way up it; she needed a rest room badly, although there was no way she was going to be able to make her white silk dress turn into a full length evening gown.

‘I’ll kill him! Then I’ll kill him all over again,’ she muttered. Why hadn’t he told her it was a formal evening. She was sure everyone was looking at her. They probably thought she was some sort of poor relation and being pitied by a group of vamps and demons was not how she’d expected to spend the evening

After she’d pulled a comb through her tangled hair and found a lipstick to repair some of the damage Spike had done to her mouth on their journey here, she felt a little more human. Which, she reckoned, was some sort of record in this house this evening!

Buffy hesitated as she came back out into the corridor. It was such a wonderful house. She’d love to see more of it. Surely no one would mind if she just wandered about a bit and it would save her having to go downstairs on her own again.

She sighed, wishing that Xander and Willow were here. They’d have a laugh together at how out of place they all were, Willow would make marvellously bitchy remarks about Arabella and Xander would probably be hauled off to a bedroom by some femme fatale demon lady!

As she turned a corner, a familiar voice caught her attention. Buffy stopped and peered through a half open bedroom door.

Spike was sitting on a king sized bed, his back to the door. He was holding Arabella in his arms and her head was buried in the crease of his neck, her fingers playing with the little platinum curls that feathered his ears.

Her long brown curls cascaded across his arm and back and catching sight of Buffy in the doorway, she smiled, slowly, licked her lips lasciviously and vamped out as she ran her other hand possessively down his back.

Buffy froze as the icy champagne rose up in the back of her throat and she wanted to be sick. She forced herself to move; she needed fresh air. One step, then another - concentrate on walking steadily, carefully, don’t think about anything but getting out of the house. You’re just a little bit tipsy, that‘s all. You’re not upset about what you’ve just seen. Why should you be upset? Spike’s an evil thing and evil things do evil things. It’s all very straightforward.

She collected another glass of champagne as she crossed the ballroom. People were dancing now and she could see Div’vid looking round everywhere, obviously search ing for his wife.

Hey, Div‘vid, she felt like shouting. She’s upstairs with Spike and the two of them are giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘kissing cousins’.

But she couldn’t do that. He was such a sweet demon but she had a nasty feeling that if crossed, a charging bull would have nothing on him. Not that she cared if he trampled Spike into tiny, weeny, dust particles, she thought, but she still had to get home and Spike had the car keys!

At the side of the ballroom, wide glass windows lead out onto a marble terrace. Buffy slipped outside. It was cooler, the breeze soft against her burning cheeks. Her hands were hurting and she gazed down in amazement to find a row of blood crescents where her nails had dug into her palms.

God, she needed to go home. She needed to go now! She wondered if she could ring for a cab. But that would be so expensive and she didn’t have any money.

The hairs on the back of her neck wriggled and she knew, without turning, who was standing behind her.

‘There you are, Goldilocks. I’ve been looking for you.’ Spike with a tankard of beer in his hand. ‘Having a good time?’

Buffy took a deep breath, determined not to let him see how upset she was. ‘Yes, thank you. Lovely party. Lots of interesting - well, lots of interesting peoply things. And you? Have you caught up with all the family - gossip?’

Spike leant against the stone balustrade that ran the length of the terrace and took a deep swig of beer. ‘She’s great, Bella, isn’t she? Have you had a chance to chat yet? I know she wants to talk to you.’

Buffy looked at him blankly. What was it about men - be they dead or alive - that they completely missed the reaction between two women - again, alive or dead - when they met?

She and Arabella had hated each other on sight and always would. How could they have a ‘nice chat’? But here was Spike, looking at her, almost eagerly, with a ridiculous piece of white beer foam stuck to his top lip just asking to be licked off by her tongue.

‘She’s been too busy with you to bother about me,’ she replied sweetly.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Miaow!’ he said with a grin. ‘Pull your claws in, Slayer. You’ll make a guy think you might be jealous of me sharing my time with another woman.’

Buffy felt her skin flaming with indignation. She took another large sip of pink champagne. Goodness, this was a nice drink. Why did everyone say it made you tipsy? It was just like lemonade.

‘Jealous, of you? In your dreams, bleach boy. I’m only here because... because...’ she hesitated. She couldn’t actually remember why she was here. ‘If you want to shag your cousin, then be my guest.’

Spike frowned, the smile vanishing from his blue eyes. ‘Shag Bella? What the bloody hell are you talking about, Buffy?’

‘Do you want me to draw you a picture?’ she snapped. ‘I really don’t care if the two of you are fucking like rabbits, but I think it’s tacky doing it in Div’vid’s house because he seems like a really nice guy and anyway, I object to being used as a smoke-screen for your sordid affairs! So give me the car keys, now! I’m going home.

to be continued





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